Despite the thick layer of snow covering the city, the Immortal Pulse was alive. The energy of the crowd got into her blood like pixie dust. Like magic. Which was fitting for a nightclub catering to the city’s fae population. Jewell wrapped her arms around the neck of the guy she was dancing with, pulling him closer. His hands were on her hips and his lips against her throat, kissing her pulse as it beat in time with the music.
A discordant sound jolted her from her momentary euphoria as the world tilted in a scream of metal and a roar.
Jewell opened her eyes, looking through the multi-colored haze of lights to the front of the club where a lesser demon had torn open the double doors and pounced inside. The crowd--high on life and drugs and magic--screamed in a frenzy, trying to run and get away. Even her dance partner wanted to run, trying to tug her with him. The Empress shoved him back with a curse and then tried to fight the tide of non-humans, moving towards the danger.
Towards Sapphire.
It had been Sapphire’s idea that they go out tonight. It had been too long since they dressed up and went out partying, and they hadn’t been together on New Year’s Eve. Add to that the amount of time the young woman was spending with Sami, the trip Jewell had taken with Taneth and Jake, plus the giant snowstorm, and she had a strong argument for why they needed to put on something sparkly and hit the town together.
When chaos erupted around them, Sapphire was not with Jewell on the dancefloor. She was at the bar. She was at the bar near the doors talking to some guy about music. Jewell had left her there to go dance with the handsome elf who told her that someone should call the Watch because certainly it was illegal to look so good. They had been dancing for at least a half hour now. Maybe Sapphire wasn’t by the bar anymore, but something told Jewell she was.
And not only was she there, she was probably trying to fight the demon. Jewell knew that’s what she would do if she was there.
She was right. When she reached the bar, after shoving, pushing, and blood bending person after person out of her way, the lesser demon stood between her and the blue haired wonder, but she heard her girl call for her. “Mama!” Sapphire shouted, unable to see her. It wasn’t the first time she had called out for Jewell. For her mother. Her father. Mallory. Someone.
“I’m here!” Jewell shouted, reassuring her. Then she turned to the demon who stood in her way, calling to it, “Vile creature.”
First, it swiped at the girl who dared to stand against it and Sapphire’s scream rent the air, shrill over the still thrumming beat of the bad house music. Then the demon turned, its maw and claws wet with blood, and Jewell caught her first glimpse of her girl: on the ground, bleeding, still struggling to get up and fight.
“Sapphire, stay down.” Jewell hissed at her, turning her attention to the lesser demon before her. When she looked at it, she saw more than what would appear to the normal eye. The thing was huge in this reality, with large muscular arms intended for crushing and a powerful tail whipping about, but on the other side it was even bigger. Stronger. Its legs and arms seemed without number, all ending in razor sharp claws meant to render soul and spirit from body, and its name was He Who Tears and Destroys.
He saw her too. A silver light, glowing. Unquenchable. Small but so powerful. He wanted to devour that light. The building shook as the creature roared and came at her, much faster than its girth should have allowed.
The Empress was ready for it. This creature had fully crossed over. It inhabited a mortal body, summoned by someone. She didn’t know who. Yet. It didn’t matter. She could destroy a mortal body, and for hurting Sapphire, she would go a step further.
As it took another step towards her, Jewell held both hands up, palms out, as if to halt its progress. And it worked. The creature screamed and the faerie grinned. She had seized control of all the fluid in its mortal form, but had not stopped at just halting its progress. No no. Jewell twisting her fingers and the demon writhed in pain, its muscles and form twisted at unnatural angles as it rose into the air, crashing into the lights and sending a shower of glass down upon her. She didn’t care.
“I sever the chain that binds you, demon.” Her voice was deep, amplified by the magic thrumming through her body. With one hand, she held the creature in its place in the air, bound by her elemental magic. With the other, she tore the veil apart. “And send you back from whence you came.” With a gesture, she tore apart its physical body, leaving nothing for it to return to as pieces of the creature rained down across the nightclub, mixing with spilled drinks on the floor.
Its spirit roared at her, freed from its mortal prison but desperate to find another. It could not survive here long without it.
“No.” Jewell said the single word as it cast about. She didn’t have Mallory, Safiya, and Ishmerai at her side this time to help her, but she didn’t need them. Her heart wasn’t breaking this time. She raised both hands to the spirit again. She could not bend the blood in its body. It didn’t have any. Instead, she blasted it with pure energy that singed her fingertips and frizzled her hair. “Begone.”
The creature was forced through the tear she had formed in the Veil, its spirit withering at the touch of her magic, and was lost to the other side -- weakened and diminished.
Jewell closed the doorway with a wave of her hand as she ran to Sapphire, dropping to the ground beside her.
She was already too late.
The Deep Dreaming
Moderators: Bailey Raptis, JewellRavenlock
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
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Dom Lahart
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 6
- Joined: Wed Jan 02, 2019 1:18 am
Re: The Deep Dreaming
The pocket watch was a detailed thing of rose gold, lacquered with cosmic filigree that shimmered like the face of an opal. Each of her brethren, her early dreamt kin, were gifted with one as a tool of their trade. To keep track of the hours, minutes, seconds until a last breath would be taken. Sigils were where numbers should have been, part of some ancient language that not even the Elder Twelve knew anymore. Dusty numbers that made no sense or artful strokes of calligraphy that were nothing more than symbols. They changed frequently depending on the mood of the aether, the true gods of the Dream. Dom read them as casually as a man reads the newspaper, as easy as a woman applies lipstick. It remained open in her palm, sinking into the soft tapestry of the skin she wore.
Tick-tick-tick.
She was a pale shark in an ocean of gorgeous creatures, all who had the cryptic sensation to avoid her. They parted wide, split further, denied to rub elbows with the woman who was tucked, neck deep, in a tailored suit the color of tangerine. Explosive in color when laid on a backdrop of white smoke skin with just the barest tints of a lavender blush. They decided her eyes were too sharp, too bright, too dark, too old, too unknown; they kept pretending she wasn’t there because it was easy to forget that fate was always just around the corner, down the length of the bar, sipping from a petite glass of port. While they all danced and writhed against one another to the electric pulse of a beat, she watched. She watched with an almost serene expression. A face of a woman unconcerned with a single thing that spiked through the cross hairs of her attention.
Screams rose up to dominate over the original energy that the club had been alive with. There were shouts of surprise, wails of panic, the distraught language of pandemonia, and still this woman who sat with her drink in the eccentric orange suit did not seem to care. It was uncanny, but no one would notice; she mouthed a few lines of stragglers as they rushed to find an exit, echoing their sentiments or their prayers or their curses, like a blue blood patron of a very real opera who had memorized the lines of her favorite characters. She even moved the glass of port along the smooth surface of the bar moments before a thick brushstroke of blood came from a horrendous scene fifteen feet down the way.
Dom had seen this movie before.
Tick-tick-tick.
She glanced down to the pocket watch which she still held. It was closing in on the time but there was still a scene to go, the final curtain call which she could visualize from every point of every corner of this establishment. There was the one she knew from before, from multiple times, a woman who had been given second chances that turned into third chances. A single entity kept in the birdcage of gossamer bones and a liquid metal tongue: The Empress. Jewell was a fascinating piece in every single story that involved her. She was often a hero, a mad woman, a feral pixie that escaped by the skin of her teeth. Dom had so few favorites but Jewell remained in that category. Debts were paid, as they always should be, though she had been unable to escort this blue haired monarch into the Deep Dreaming.
And Dom admired that.
“Someone...”
There was a buzz of people around her, running, shouting, crying for help. Jewell ignored them all, cradling the bloody body of Sapphire against her chest. There was so much blood.
“I tried…” Sapphire started before she coughed, her body wracked with spasm and pain.
“Shh. I know you did, sweetie. You’re a real hero.” Sapphire smiled and closed her eyes. Only then did Jewell look around, “I need a medic here, now! She’s… she’s dying! Someone help me.” She could feel her girl’s pulse fluttering, weak. She tried to pour her own energy into her, to stop the bleeding, but she had already lost so much. “Someone…” she looked around, desperate.
The pocket watch was closed with a resounding click, a simple noise that distorted the grip of reality that ruled here. As many still were running for their life, finally snapped from their shock by the victory of the Empress, they began to slow down. Slower and slower, till those who remained were unique looking fixtures of bent knees and strained faces. Time overturned on itself to break all the rules it had previously written and make the world come to a complete stop. Tears hung like crystalline ornaments in mid air, ruffling of fabric remained unbroken from the spell and appeared to stay in one place, yet there were three that were not wrapped in this wormhole: Jewell, Sapphire, and the woman who approached them both, Dom. She was quiet save for the dull connection between heel and floorboards or the reverberating tap of fingers to the invaluable surface of that pocket watch. Dom held her hand out to push aside a glistening spray of a broken vodka bottle, moving the hovering beads of liquor from her path.
Everything about her seemed to be unsullied. From the way she dressed with the edges neatly pressed, to the pullback of whalebone white hair where not a single piece was out of order. Unconventional beauty, that’s what some had said about the premonition who looked down to Jewell and Sapphire. Certain things seemed comforting while others were terribly divine; the beginning scene of her beryl bright eyes to their metamorphosis into wine-dark and wild, her features equally morphing in an illusion of canine shapes, wolfish and yet commanding, like a separate movie was just there, in the background, behind the mortal mask she wore now.
“Hello, Empress of Eternal Summer.” Familiar, possibly, like the nostalgia of scents and sights. Texture of memories that could have been but were never made, the timbre of when dreams startle you awake, the berceuse of old gods. It is with smoke and fog and stars that she speaks with because the language is dreamt up from the First Man. Dom tilted her head to regard Sapphire, tenderly, her pearly pink lips fostering a gentle smile.
“You.”
She had seen Dom before. At the bar, earlier. They had passed each other and Jewell had felt a cold chill run down her spine. She had seen her elsewhere though too: Two years ago, in the hospital after an iron shiv had pierced her heart, she had dreamed of this woman. That spring, as suicidal ideations were never far away, this woman was there when she thought about stepping out in front of a truck or throwing herself over the edge as she leaned over the railing of her balcony. As death approached all on its own and her heart failed within her chest and Team Awesome raced to save her, Dom was there. And when they all fought an epic battle in the halls of the sanitorium against the Night Court and Belladonna, Dom had been there. On the steps of the sanitorium as the House of Summer girls died, in the foyer where the Earl had torn at her neck savagely, standing aside in the atrium as Mallory performed the ritual.
Dom was there.
Although she knew somehow the real reason for her presence deep inside, she couldn’t help but look to her hopefully, “Can you help me? Please?”
“No, Jewell, I do not think I can help you. I’m just the collector; I answer to a higher authority than even you.” Unfolding her fingers to reach down towards the fallen girl, the girl who did not realize that time was cruel and unusual, a punishing thing when fate got involved.
Dom stopped her fingers from touching at Sapphire’s brow just a breath away.
“-- what did you have to trade, Jewell?”
(Written together and in part with JewellRavenlock.)
Tick-tick-tick.
She was a pale shark in an ocean of gorgeous creatures, all who had the cryptic sensation to avoid her. They parted wide, split further, denied to rub elbows with the woman who was tucked, neck deep, in a tailored suit the color of tangerine. Explosive in color when laid on a backdrop of white smoke skin with just the barest tints of a lavender blush. They decided her eyes were too sharp, too bright, too dark, too old, too unknown; they kept pretending she wasn’t there because it was easy to forget that fate was always just around the corner, down the length of the bar, sipping from a petite glass of port. While they all danced and writhed against one another to the electric pulse of a beat, she watched. She watched with an almost serene expression. A face of a woman unconcerned with a single thing that spiked through the cross hairs of her attention.
Screams rose up to dominate over the original energy that the club had been alive with. There were shouts of surprise, wails of panic, the distraught language of pandemonia, and still this woman who sat with her drink in the eccentric orange suit did not seem to care. It was uncanny, but no one would notice; she mouthed a few lines of stragglers as they rushed to find an exit, echoing their sentiments or their prayers or their curses, like a blue blood patron of a very real opera who had memorized the lines of her favorite characters. She even moved the glass of port along the smooth surface of the bar moments before a thick brushstroke of blood came from a horrendous scene fifteen feet down the way.
Dom had seen this movie before.
Tick-tick-tick.
She glanced down to the pocket watch which she still held. It was closing in on the time but there was still a scene to go, the final curtain call which she could visualize from every point of every corner of this establishment. There was the one she knew from before, from multiple times, a woman who had been given second chances that turned into third chances. A single entity kept in the birdcage of gossamer bones and a liquid metal tongue: The Empress. Jewell was a fascinating piece in every single story that involved her. She was often a hero, a mad woman, a feral pixie that escaped by the skin of her teeth. Dom had so few favorites but Jewell remained in that category. Debts were paid, as they always should be, though she had been unable to escort this blue haired monarch into the Deep Dreaming.
And Dom admired that.
“Someone...”
There was a buzz of people around her, running, shouting, crying for help. Jewell ignored them all, cradling the bloody body of Sapphire against her chest. There was so much blood.
“I tried…” Sapphire started before she coughed, her body wracked with spasm and pain.
“Shh. I know you did, sweetie. You’re a real hero.” Sapphire smiled and closed her eyes. Only then did Jewell look around, “I need a medic here, now! She’s… she’s dying! Someone help me.” She could feel her girl’s pulse fluttering, weak. She tried to pour her own energy into her, to stop the bleeding, but she had already lost so much. “Someone…” she looked around, desperate.
The pocket watch was closed with a resounding click, a simple noise that distorted the grip of reality that ruled here. As many still were running for their life, finally snapped from their shock by the victory of the Empress, they began to slow down. Slower and slower, till those who remained were unique looking fixtures of bent knees and strained faces. Time overturned on itself to break all the rules it had previously written and make the world come to a complete stop. Tears hung like crystalline ornaments in mid air, ruffling of fabric remained unbroken from the spell and appeared to stay in one place, yet there were three that were not wrapped in this wormhole: Jewell, Sapphire, and the woman who approached them both, Dom. She was quiet save for the dull connection between heel and floorboards or the reverberating tap of fingers to the invaluable surface of that pocket watch. Dom held her hand out to push aside a glistening spray of a broken vodka bottle, moving the hovering beads of liquor from her path.
Everything about her seemed to be unsullied. From the way she dressed with the edges neatly pressed, to the pullback of whalebone white hair where not a single piece was out of order. Unconventional beauty, that’s what some had said about the premonition who looked down to Jewell and Sapphire. Certain things seemed comforting while others were terribly divine; the beginning scene of her beryl bright eyes to their metamorphosis into wine-dark and wild, her features equally morphing in an illusion of canine shapes, wolfish and yet commanding, like a separate movie was just there, in the background, behind the mortal mask she wore now.
“Hello, Empress of Eternal Summer.” Familiar, possibly, like the nostalgia of scents and sights. Texture of memories that could have been but were never made, the timbre of when dreams startle you awake, the berceuse of old gods. It is with smoke and fog and stars that she speaks with because the language is dreamt up from the First Man. Dom tilted her head to regard Sapphire, tenderly, her pearly pink lips fostering a gentle smile.
“You.”
She had seen Dom before. At the bar, earlier. They had passed each other and Jewell had felt a cold chill run down her spine. She had seen her elsewhere though too: Two years ago, in the hospital after an iron shiv had pierced her heart, she had dreamed of this woman. That spring, as suicidal ideations were never far away, this woman was there when she thought about stepping out in front of a truck or throwing herself over the edge as she leaned over the railing of her balcony. As death approached all on its own and her heart failed within her chest and Team Awesome raced to save her, Dom was there. And when they all fought an epic battle in the halls of the sanitorium against the Night Court and Belladonna, Dom had been there. On the steps of the sanitorium as the House of Summer girls died, in the foyer where the Earl had torn at her neck savagely, standing aside in the atrium as Mallory performed the ritual.
Dom was there.
Although she knew somehow the real reason for her presence deep inside, she couldn’t help but look to her hopefully, “Can you help me? Please?”
“No, Jewell, I do not think I can help you. I’m just the collector; I answer to a higher authority than even you.” Unfolding her fingers to reach down towards the fallen girl, the girl who did not realize that time was cruel and unusual, a punishing thing when fate got involved.
Dom stopped her fingers from touching at Sapphire’s brow just a breath away.
“-- what did you have to trade, Jewell?”
(Written together and in part with JewellRavenlock.)
“That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods
-
JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
Re: The Deep Dreaming
“-- what did you have to trade, Jewell?”
“Trade?” she echoed numbly even as she tugged Sapphire away from Dom. She wouldn’t let this woman touch her even as her mind whirled, the question opening an endless pit inside her. The foolish faerie had traded so much in the last few years. She had made trades and bargains for vengeance and revenge. To take back what was stolen from her. For a longer life. She had given up her True Name, her magic, two hundred years of service to her family, steady love and the very chance of it again, her marriage…
Ishmerai.
“Too much. Too much,” she cried, holding Sapphire close. She had given up so much, but she’d give even more for this girl in her arms whose star was flickering and fading. “What do you want from me? Just take it. I’ll give you anything for her. Anything you ask.”
There was little fight left in Sapphire; she was a wilted blue rose in the tangled arms of her mother, limp in the pool of red that was starting to spread out like spilled paint. Their combined beauty could shatter worlds but, unfortunately, not this world. Not where time had come to a standstill, not in the center of this club, not in the essence of a moment planned out by consequence. No, at this time there was nothing more than the delivery of a lurid lady who hovered above the heap of limbs they made like a foreigner who belonged anywhere but here.
Dom appeared as motionless as the array of club goers, fixated on swallowing every bit of light that radiated off of Jewell in the core of her eyes. Haunting, yet they were not monstrous, not threatening, but curious and benign even in their color of burgundy-black.
"You have so little left to give, Empress.", she crooned as only a primordial might. Soft as autumn leaves falling and just as cool as the breeze that might take them. Her regard for Jewell went from benevolent to razor-sharp in an instant. "I am unable to take your life for hers, you see, and I'm not sure I would truly enjoy that trade if I am being honest. So, I ask again ...", trailing during the rearranging of her posture where her body seemed leaner and longer. Still, her fingers remained close, drifting just a breath away from touching at Sapphire's brow even with how Jewell tugged and pulled and tried to shadow her kin. "... what do you have to trade?"
Her grey eyes went hard with resentment. With her back against the wall, Jewell was at her most dangerous. A lithe lioness hovering over her wounded cub, claws out, ready to snap at Dom. She restrained herself though. She couldn't strike this woman down as effortlessly as she had dealt with the demon. She needed her. Once again, fate drew her inevitably into the most dangerous but beloved game of the sídhe: a game of bargains, oaths, and trades. It was a game the Empress had played and survived for years now, though few could say she ever came out on top.
With her own life off the table, a price she would have willingly paid despite the mad scramble to save it just thirteen months prior, Jewell raced to think of something, anything that would please this creature before her, another in a long line who saw an opportunity and could not resist to take something from the blue haired faerie. Piece by piece, they took from her but she was still here and despite what Dom thought, she still had much to give. Her mouth was dry as she forced herself to offer with bitterness of spirit, "My service. My glamour. My eyes. My love. You name your price, woman. I will pay it. I always pay it."
There was only one thing she would balk to give, and that was her Name.
Jewell knew, deep within her pretty bones, that the woman who stood before her was more than the trifling, deceptive type who would insist on outlandish trades to encourage their own power. This manifestation could have been from the beginning. A walking Genesis who had, over thousands and millions of years, morphed into this opulent creature that cut corners of debt collecting, dealt with guidance of the Veil spirits, and ultimately should have been Jewell's own chauffeur into the Deep Dreaming more than a handful of times. Feral and furious, Jewell was still wise. Could still calculate the percentages of winning this fight with brute strength and dark magic, but what was written between the lines of both their eyes was the truth: This was who had no other objective than leading the fresh to death sprites and sylphs and sirens to a land that was no land at all.
Dom clenched her fingers together to create a fist that looked between fragile and demanding. It took her fingers from being so close to showing a momentary truce. Every piece of Jewell was suddenly out for the taking when she swept her tongue to concoct up all those morsels; service, glamour, eyes, love. Each one tastier than the last but Dom was no salivating Red Cap or a devil dealing Sluagh. What she wanted was no real desire, nothing to be spoken in the simplicity of mortal words. What the grim but captivating Moira wanted was vastly more complicated.
"-- the memories of them. Your children. Those that I took too soon, those that you let go too soon. Your bereaved nostalgia of everything they remind you of." Every word that she spoke was drenched in melancholia because she felt the seasonal shift of Jewell's own heart when Dom even suggested such a transaction. This could be construed as two different things and both would label Dom a pitiless bitch no matter which avenue one was determined to believe. Most would convey a savage poem about death, that it was a vicious monster with nothing to give but sorrow. Jewell would undoubtedly be no different. For as many times as Jewell had tussled with Fate, this time it was not about her life. Not about her heart, her madness, her Name. This was about the fallen girl in her lap who had for so long believed the others, the ones long gone, meant more to the fabled Empress than anything or anyone else.
It was Jewell's turn to finally look the reaper in the eyes and juggle her sacrifice.
Her breath hissed in through clenched teeth sharply as if Dom had dealt her a physical blow. It struck her heart more deeply than the iron shiv Kal had wielded, and there was no sweet relief this time to follow. There was no kiss to the crown of her head to soften the blow. There was just the keening pain of a sacrifice demanded, a price so high that she could not count the cost in that moment or a hundred moments.
She closed the eyes she had offered willingly, conjuring up the memories Dom wanted to steal away like she had stolen her children. Amanda with her bold smile and unbreakable spirit. Moradin, quiet and reserved like Alexander. The triplets, the image of Celfina Cher lingering in her life after death. Devyn and Kerrick, both too young to leave a lasting impression on anyone except the mother who had held them, nursed them, and delighted in their smiles and little manners as their personalities had just begun to truly manifest themselves. This is what Dom wanted to take from her. Their faces. Their names. The touch of their hands and their arms around her neck. Childish kisses pressed to her cheek and a thousand murmurs of Goodnight, sleep tight, I love you.
When she opened her eyes, she did not look to Dom but the girl in her arms. She stroked Sapphire's face, smudging blood across her wan cheek. "Why? You took them once from me," her voice hitched, drowning in grief and fury. "Why take them again? Why?" Jewell looked up at Dom, demanding an answer from this woman, this escort of souls who could not take her but instead took the ones she loved the most.
Not a single inch of her features told any story of delirious joy from Jewell's resentment. There wasn't an ounce of relish that erupted through the muted show of her mouth, no trace of malignant bliss. There was stoicism, bare hints of day old mourning, and the evolution of her connection to the grief was enough to showcase how even death could show empathy for the wounded warriors she often came to collect. Her head tilted just slightly to realign the image of her human guise to the white-wolf illusion of her more bestial form, and as brief as it was, she looked akin to an inquisitive bird with how she watched Jewell. Watched Sapphire be as still as moonlight in a pool of cardinal. What Dom was asking for was the world on which Jewell was shaped; memories such as the loss of children sculpted matriarchs into forces of nature, rose them above the husks they may have been before. And now it was being questioned after as if it was a currency, a long forgotten coin that would be used to barter flickering souls.
"I am not who took them from you, Jewell. You must know that to be untrue." Rising to stand straight, to stand tall, and where a shadow should have been there to loom itself over them like a wintry blanket, there was nothing. "I am only the one to ferry the fallen. Their blood, Sapphire's blood, your blood? They are not on these hands." Unfolding her hands to showcase them as pristine, white, almost alien in their perfection. "Because this trade, this deal, it needs to be of equal value. And what else could be equal to the life of one of your own children but that of the memories of those before her? Nothing. Nothing, Empress. It is them, for her." Fingers swept down to motion at Sapphire, the darling spitfire who could be, maybe, a youthful mirror image of Jewell herself.
"She's not even mine," Jewell whispered, looking down at Sapphire and brushing a bit of blue hair away from her forehead. "Not really." She had not given birth to this girl. She had not held her to her breast. She did not hear her first cries. She did not know her from the moment of conception, forming a bond while she was still in her womb. In fact, she hadn't even known her for the first eighteen years of her life. Sapphire was not her child. She was not her daughter except for in every way that actually mattered.
Loyalty. Love. Late nights spent with ice cream and conversations about life, the universe, boys. Caring for each other. Supporting one another. Setting Kal's belongings on fire in a plastic bucket. Crying over a bad breakup. Making music together or learning to cook. Training together. Fighting together. A million evenings spent on the couch with Ishmerai sandwiched between them and both girls giggling as they tormented him.
Could she do it? Could she give up the ones that were truly hers but gone (through no fault of Dom's she wordlessly conceded) for this wild young woman who had burst into her life by accident and had stayed on purpose?
"All my life, I've been living in that girl's shadow. That dead girl's shadow. Do you have any idea what that's like? I mean, it's bad enough being the daughter of Harris and Jewell. Try growing up in that shadow! In public? I'm never me. I'm never just Sapphire. I'm always Harris's little girl. The little Empress. So you'd think at home it'd be better. At least there I can be me. But no, it doesn't work that way either because there? I have to make up for the one you lost. The girl you can't ever forget. I have to make up for the fact that she died and I lived. And I have to live up to these golden memories you have of her, like she was some saint. Some perfect child that, no matter what I do, I can't even come close to touching... When is anyone going to love me for me?" she jabbed at her chest with her pointer finger. "Not because they have to or because I remind them of someone else they've loved and lost, but because I am me and they love me."
There wasn't time to think, to plan, to hesitate. The blue haired wonder was already slipping away from her. Dom was right: she had let go of the others too soon, but she had also been clinging to them all this time, unable to let go. Unable to forget.
The choice was easier than she thought: She would never let go of Sapphire.
"Take them." The words were torn from her long tortured soul. "I said anything. I keep my word. Take them from me if you must, but you can't take her."
Laughter was not there to light the way. It was expelled with a breathy turn of volume; she was humored, and almost humbled, at the white lie that escaped from Jewell's lips: She's not even mine. "Untrue, Empress.", whispered to the same muted vibration that Jewell's had been spoken with. An eternity of leading the wicked and the brave to their ground of purgatory or paradise had taught Dom how to read the language of love, hate, violence and vigilance. There were trying times where her stillborn heart may have shuddered, though death was a neutral deity. Judgement was passed by higher aeons than even her, further through the reaches of the Dream where old kings and older queens slept in their billows of smoke and shade, unkempt in a trunk of an oak where they trapped themselves, all to give Seelie and Unseelie alike a new madame to loathe.
Dom was that madame.
"Come.", she said, drawing her hand down for Jewell to take. "I will show you them. A parting gift, so you will understand where they are now, only to forget it as if it never happened."
Jewell did not restrain her laughter. It was out of place perhaps and filled with long years of bitterness. Surely the pale beauty had heard such laughter before from those who thought they could beat even her at this game. "Your gifts cut deeply, Lady of Death." Yet she offered Dom her hand all the same, unable to refuse such an offer even if she would remember neither gift nor giver.
((Co-written between Dom and Jewell. Sapphire flashback taken from Sapphire’s Are Forever from August 2015.))
“Trade?” she echoed numbly even as she tugged Sapphire away from Dom. She wouldn’t let this woman touch her even as her mind whirled, the question opening an endless pit inside her. The foolish faerie had traded so much in the last few years. She had made trades and bargains for vengeance and revenge. To take back what was stolen from her. For a longer life. She had given up her True Name, her magic, two hundred years of service to her family, steady love and the very chance of it again, her marriage…
Ishmerai.
“Too much. Too much,” she cried, holding Sapphire close. She had given up so much, but she’d give even more for this girl in her arms whose star was flickering and fading. “What do you want from me? Just take it. I’ll give you anything for her. Anything you ask.”
There was little fight left in Sapphire; she was a wilted blue rose in the tangled arms of her mother, limp in the pool of red that was starting to spread out like spilled paint. Their combined beauty could shatter worlds but, unfortunately, not this world. Not where time had come to a standstill, not in the center of this club, not in the essence of a moment planned out by consequence. No, at this time there was nothing more than the delivery of a lurid lady who hovered above the heap of limbs they made like a foreigner who belonged anywhere but here.
Dom appeared as motionless as the array of club goers, fixated on swallowing every bit of light that radiated off of Jewell in the core of her eyes. Haunting, yet they were not monstrous, not threatening, but curious and benign even in their color of burgundy-black.
"You have so little left to give, Empress.", she crooned as only a primordial might. Soft as autumn leaves falling and just as cool as the breeze that might take them. Her regard for Jewell went from benevolent to razor-sharp in an instant. "I am unable to take your life for hers, you see, and I'm not sure I would truly enjoy that trade if I am being honest. So, I ask again ...", trailing during the rearranging of her posture where her body seemed leaner and longer. Still, her fingers remained close, drifting just a breath away from touching at Sapphire's brow even with how Jewell tugged and pulled and tried to shadow her kin. "... what do you have to trade?"
Her grey eyes went hard with resentment. With her back against the wall, Jewell was at her most dangerous. A lithe lioness hovering over her wounded cub, claws out, ready to snap at Dom. She restrained herself though. She couldn't strike this woman down as effortlessly as she had dealt with the demon. She needed her. Once again, fate drew her inevitably into the most dangerous but beloved game of the sídhe: a game of bargains, oaths, and trades. It was a game the Empress had played and survived for years now, though few could say she ever came out on top.
With her own life off the table, a price she would have willingly paid despite the mad scramble to save it just thirteen months prior, Jewell raced to think of something, anything that would please this creature before her, another in a long line who saw an opportunity and could not resist to take something from the blue haired faerie. Piece by piece, they took from her but she was still here and despite what Dom thought, she still had much to give. Her mouth was dry as she forced herself to offer with bitterness of spirit, "My service. My glamour. My eyes. My love. You name your price, woman. I will pay it. I always pay it."
There was only one thing she would balk to give, and that was her Name.
Jewell knew, deep within her pretty bones, that the woman who stood before her was more than the trifling, deceptive type who would insist on outlandish trades to encourage their own power. This manifestation could have been from the beginning. A walking Genesis who had, over thousands and millions of years, morphed into this opulent creature that cut corners of debt collecting, dealt with guidance of the Veil spirits, and ultimately should have been Jewell's own chauffeur into the Deep Dreaming more than a handful of times. Feral and furious, Jewell was still wise. Could still calculate the percentages of winning this fight with brute strength and dark magic, but what was written between the lines of both their eyes was the truth: This was who had no other objective than leading the fresh to death sprites and sylphs and sirens to a land that was no land at all.
Dom clenched her fingers together to create a fist that looked between fragile and demanding. It took her fingers from being so close to showing a momentary truce. Every piece of Jewell was suddenly out for the taking when she swept her tongue to concoct up all those morsels; service, glamour, eyes, love. Each one tastier than the last but Dom was no salivating Red Cap or a devil dealing Sluagh. What she wanted was no real desire, nothing to be spoken in the simplicity of mortal words. What the grim but captivating Moira wanted was vastly more complicated.
"-- the memories of them. Your children. Those that I took too soon, those that you let go too soon. Your bereaved nostalgia of everything they remind you of." Every word that she spoke was drenched in melancholia because she felt the seasonal shift of Jewell's own heart when Dom even suggested such a transaction. This could be construed as two different things and both would label Dom a pitiless bitch no matter which avenue one was determined to believe. Most would convey a savage poem about death, that it was a vicious monster with nothing to give but sorrow. Jewell would undoubtedly be no different. For as many times as Jewell had tussled with Fate, this time it was not about her life. Not about her heart, her madness, her Name. This was about the fallen girl in her lap who had for so long believed the others, the ones long gone, meant more to the fabled Empress than anything or anyone else.
It was Jewell's turn to finally look the reaper in the eyes and juggle her sacrifice.
Her breath hissed in through clenched teeth sharply as if Dom had dealt her a physical blow. It struck her heart more deeply than the iron shiv Kal had wielded, and there was no sweet relief this time to follow. There was no kiss to the crown of her head to soften the blow. There was just the keening pain of a sacrifice demanded, a price so high that she could not count the cost in that moment or a hundred moments.
She closed the eyes she had offered willingly, conjuring up the memories Dom wanted to steal away like she had stolen her children. Amanda with her bold smile and unbreakable spirit. Moradin, quiet and reserved like Alexander. The triplets, the image of Celfina Cher lingering in her life after death. Devyn and Kerrick, both too young to leave a lasting impression on anyone except the mother who had held them, nursed them, and delighted in their smiles and little manners as their personalities had just begun to truly manifest themselves. This is what Dom wanted to take from her. Their faces. Their names. The touch of their hands and their arms around her neck. Childish kisses pressed to her cheek and a thousand murmurs of Goodnight, sleep tight, I love you.
When she opened her eyes, she did not look to Dom but the girl in her arms. She stroked Sapphire's face, smudging blood across her wan cheek. "Why? You took them once from me," her voice hitched, drowning in grief and fury. "Why take them again? Why?" Jewell looked up at Dom, demanding an answer from this woman, this escort of souls who could not take her but instead took the ones she loved the most.
Not a single inch of her features told any story of delirious joy from Jewell's resentment. There wasn't an ounce of relish that erupted through the muted show of her mouth, no trace of malignant bliss. There was stoicism, bare hints of day old mourning, and the evolution of her connection to the grief was enough to showcase how even death could show empathy for the wounded warriors she often came to collect. Her head tilted just slightly to realign the image of her human guise to the white-wolf illusion of her more bestial form, and as brief as it was, she looked akin to an inquisitive bird with how she watched Jewell. Watched Sapphire be as still as moonlight in a pool of cardinal. What Dom was asking for was the world on which Jewell was shaped; memories such as the loss of children sculpted matriarchs into forces of nature, rose them above the husks they may have been before. And now it was being questioned after as if it was a currency, a long forgotten coin that would be used to barter flickering souls.
"I am not who took them from you, Jewell. You must know that to be untrue." Rising to stand straight, to stand tall, and where a shadow should have been there to loom itself over them like a wintry blanket, there was nothing. "I am only the one to ferry the fallen. Their blood, Sapphire's blood, your blood? They are not on these hands." Unfolding her hands to showcase them as pristine, white, almost alien in their perfection. "Because this trade, this deal, it needs to be of equal value. And what else could be equal to the life of one of your own children but that of the memories of those before her? Nothing. Nothing, Empress. It is them, for her." Fingers swept down to motion at Sapphire, the darling spitfire who could be, maybe, a youthful mirror image of Jewell herself.
"She's not even mine," Jewell whispered, looking down at Sapphire and brushing a bit of blue hair away from her forehead. "Not really." She had not given birth to this girl. She had not held her to her breast. She did not hear her first cries. She did not know her from the moment of conception, forming a bond while she was still in her womb. In fact, she hadn't even known her for the first eighteen years of her life. Sapphire was not her child. She was not her daughter except for in every way that actually mattered.
Loyalty. Love. Late nights spent with ice cream and conversations about life, the universe, boys. Caring for each other. Supporting one another. Setting Kal's belongings on fire in a plastic bucket. Crying over a bad breakup. Making music together or learning to cook. Training together. Fighting together. A million evenings spent on the couch with Ishmerai sandwiched between them and both girls giggling as they tormented him.
Could she do it? Could she give up the ones that were truly hers but gone (through no fault of Dom's she wordlessly conceded) for this wild young woman who had burst into her life by accident and had stayed on purpose?
"All my life, I've been living in that girl's shadow. That dead girl's shadow. Do you have any idea what that's like? I mean, it's bad enough being the daughter of Harris and Jewell. Try growing up in that shadow! In public? I'm never me. I'm never just Sapphire. I'm always Harris's little girl. The little Empress. So you'd think at home it'd be better. At least there I can be me. But no, it doesn't work that way either because there? I have to make up for the one you lost. The girl you can't ever forget. I have to make up for the fact that she died and I lived. And I have to live up to these golden memories you have of her, like she was some saint. Some perfect child that, no matter what I do, I can't even come close to touching... When is anyone going to love me for me?" she jabbed at her chest with her pointer finger. "Not because they have to or because I remind them of someone else they've loved and lost, but because I am me and they love me."
There wasn't time to think, to plan, to hesitate. The blue haired wonder was already slipping away from her. Dom was right: she had let go of the others too soon, but she had also been clinging to them all this time, unable to let go. Unable to forget.
The choice was easier than she thought: She would never let go of Sapphire.
"Take them." The words were torn from her long tortured soul. "I said anything. I keep my word. Take them from me if you must, but you can't take her."
Laughter was not there to light the way. It was expelled with a breathy turn of volume; she was humored, and almost humbled, at the white lie that escaped from Jewell's lips: She's not even mine. "Untrue, Empress.", whispered to the same muted vibration that Jewell's had been spoken with. An eternity of leading the wicked and the brave to their ground of purgatory or paradise had taught Dom how to read the language of love, hate, violence and vigilance. There were trying times where her stillborn heart may have shuddered, though death was a neutral deity. Judgement was passed by higher aeons than even her, further through the reaches of the Dream where old kings and older queens slept in their billows of smoke and shade, unkempt in a trunk of an oak where they trapped themselves, all to give Seelie and Unseelie alike a new madame to loathe.
Dom was that madame.
"Come.", she said, drawing her hand down for Jewell to take. "I will show you them. A parting gift, so you will understand where they are now, only to forget it as if it never happened."
Jewell did not restrain her laughter. It was out of place perhaps and filled with long years of bitterness. Surely the pale beauty had heard such laughter before from those who thought they could beat even her at this game. "Your gifts cut deeply, Lady of Death." Yet she offered Dom her hand all the same, unable to refuse such an offer even if she would remember neither gift nor giver.
((Co-written between Dom and Jewell. Sapphire flashback taken from Sapphire’s Are Forever from August 2015.))
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
Re: The Deep Dreaming
All too brief was the exchange of skin to skin. Contact that was typically forbidden yet Dom chose to play cats cradle with the guillotine wires of fate; she was a master of her craft, a true artist that watched the Veil and the Grove through abstract eyes. Even this tiny of a gift could come with tremendous consequences but who was she to play a villain all the time?
Jewell would find the club gone, every mundane line of it, and in its place was the epitome of Utopia. Lush was the land filled with evergreen and clear blue waterfalls that spilled from the towering crags of rock and crystal. Other surfaces of floating islands dripped ivy vines down in mimicry of tendrils that blossomed with unknown flora, soaking up the warmth of triple suns that rotated to eclipse one another. A place that mixed a palette of pigments as rich as a sunset with the dewy glow of a sunrise. Some vast kingdom that was the promise of Zion with its ever changing hills that were speckled in poppy fields. Air was too rich to be real, too pure to be consumed, but it tasted like light and smelled of eternity.
Both the immaculate keeper of the Last Dream and the exquisite royal Empress looked out of place here in their modern day dress. Foreigners to a plane of existence that was only available once pure faeborne were taken from their time in the tangible life. That was not to say that this was some farce, a faux haven of deception. It was as real as could be to those that belonged here such as the rousing group of youthful and familiar children that danced further in the distance. Each one smiling, not a care in the world. They were not somber mannequins sleeping but lively and barefoot heathens that were not weighted in guilt, in regret, in heartbreak.
"They remember you." Dom carefully spoke, that limbo of soft and stern.
"Do they?" There was such longing in her voice as she watched them. There was no hurt here. There was no sign or lasting mark to show the things that had been done to them or the cruel hands that had taken them from their beds, from their mother's arms, and then from life itself.
This was the place she had run from so many times. How silly! The trauma of the past several years fell away from her shoulders in this paradise, and Jewell thoughtlessly went to step forward and join her children in their frolic.
They called to her when they saw her approach, the cries of “Mom!” and “Mommy!” bringing tears instantly to her eyes as they raced halfway up the hill to meet her. The triplets, the twins, Moradin, and last but not least her beautiful first born with her dark blue curly hair and a smile softened by her time in this utopia. Her strong daughter that had fought tooth and nail the day they had all been stolen, making sure that she had taken two fae knights with her when Dom escorted her to the Deep Dreaming because they had dared to touch her younger brother first. Even with all the other kids hanging off her, demanding her attention, she still opened her arms to Amanda and her girl wasted no time in embracing her tightly.
And for a little while, everything was as it should be.
They ran about and played all day. For a hundred days. Time held no meaning in the Deep Dreaming. They chased butterflies and danced under waterfalls. They built castles in the sand on the edge of a purple sea. They played tag in a field of wildflowers taller than all of them, plucking the petals after and setting them free into the wind. And for a moment, a thousand beautiful, heart-breaking moments, Jewell was a mother again.
As the trio of suns set one after another, the Empress tucked each one of her precious souls into a flowery bower where they could sleep: safe and sound. She said good night to them as she should have that evening long ago: singing a song, telling a story, kissing them, and treasuring the way their little arms wrapped around her neck and they pressed their lips to her cheek in childish goodnight kisses. From each, she tried to take something to hold onto: Moradin’s shy and rare smile as they snuggled beneath a tree to read together. Devyn’s belly laugh and the one dimple in Kerrick’s right cheek as she made up and told them the story about the little bunny that lived in a burrow on the other side of the hill. The way Eva Jade closed her eyes and settled down with a happy sigh after asking (and receiving) one more song; the way Raven’s hair fell rakishly across his forehead no matter how many times she pushed it back, kissing his head each time she did so despite his playful protests; and Oz’s crushing hug when he told her, “I’m glad you’re my mama.”
“I’m glad to be your mama, love,” she responded despite the choking feeling in her throat.
From Amanda she took one more golden hour to treasure, an hour of sitting together, watching twilight fall and a thousand thousand fireflies take to the air around them. Together they spoke of hopes and dreams, of things long past, and things still yet to come.
“Moradin and I are going to build a ship and sail across that sea.”
“How far do you think it goes?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“Do you remember your Brian Ravenlock doll?”
“Yes!” she giggled. “And the way I used to make him dance across the bar.”
“And Uncle Brian would make you chocolate milk.”
“Yeah, I liked that. That was fun.”
“It was.”
“Do you still have people to watch over you, mama?”
“I don’t need anyone to watch over me.”
“Sure you don’t. But do you have someone anyway?”
“I do.”
“Good.”
As a trail of moons, five in all, rose across the sky to bathe the whole world in their soft light, her girl… her first little girl who had loved her so much, the first person to truly love her at all, took her hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s time to go, mama.”
“No,” Jewell shook her head, unable to live with the choice she had made in that moment. How could she let go of her girl? Her sweet, sweet girl. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t! Every fiber of her being vehemently rejected the bargain she had made. Jewell belonged here with Amanda, with all her children. They were not meant to be parted. “No, I don’t want to leave you. Not again.” She held her daughter’s face with both hands, a promise ready on her lips: to never leave her again, to stay here at her side. To not be parted in this world like they had in the other. They could play and run around all day, every day for eternity and none of them would ever hurt again. The words were already forming as she looked into her grey eyes. Amanda really was her mirror image, but she couldn’t help but think that her eyes should be blue.
As blue as sapphires.
She felt a keening pain deep in her soul. Sapphire. Sapphire lying on the floor of a night club, her life blood pooling around her. The blue haired wonder with her sassy and smart smile that was quick to come to life and light up her whole face and so easily turned to sarcastic mocking. The young woman with a raucous laugh that made others want to laugh along. That girl was in danger, her laughter at risk from being taken from the world too soon. Like Amanda’s had.
Instead of a promise of eternity, Jewell sobbed, “I have to go. I have to go back to her.”
Amanda smiled. She was always so steady and wise. So calm. She had been Jewell’s rock for so long. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. And we’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”
The sídhe did not deserve absolution or reassurance in light of the sin she was about to commit, but she sought it all the same. “Promise me that you’ll still be waiting no matter what happens. No matter what I do. No matter what I have to do. Promise me.”
“Don’t worry, mama. I promise.”
Jewell released her hold on Amanda’s face to wrap her arms around the girl instead, her child stuck on the cusp of adulthood for all eternity. Holding her, she tried desperately to imprint a shortened lifetime of memories onto her very soul where even Dom could not touch them: The midwife putting her daughter into her arms for the first time, the squalling, wrinkled little thing with blue fuzz on her head. Four years when it was just the two of them against the world. Burning pancakes together on weekend mornings, shrieking with laughter as her little girl chased her around the house with sticky, syrup hands. Laying in a hammock together on the beach, talking long into the night. Watching her hold Moradin and recognizing the strong, life-long bond between them. Listening to the girl stutter and watching her blush as she told her about her first kiss. Arguing as they trained together. Laughing through life’s up and downs. Hearing and actually believing the words, “I love you” for the first time from this darling’s lips.
She needed to remember everything--every laugh, kiss, smile, tear, and word--if only for a few more moments.
Amanda pulled away from her, untroubled by the cares and worries that weighed on her mother, and laid down on a bed of sweet smelling grass. Jewell leaned over her, her face wet with tears as she kissed her forehead. “Be safe my darling.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. Nothing can hurt me here.”
“I know. I know.” She brushed her blue hair off her face and leaned down for one last kiss, “I love you, Amanda. Always.”
“I love you too mommy.”
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
Jewell would find the club gone, every mundane line of it, and in its place was the epitome of Utopia. Lush was the land filled with evergreen and clear blue waterfalls that spilled from the towering crags of rock and crystal. Other surfaces of floating islands dripped ivy vines down in mimicry of tendrils that blossomed with unknown flora, soaking up the warmth of triple suns that rotated to eclipse one another. A place that mixed a palette of pigments as rich as a sunset with the dewy glow of a sunrise. Some vast kingdom that was the promise of Zion with its ever changing hills that were speckled in poppy fields. Air was too rich to be real, too pure to be consumed, but it tasted like light and smelled of eternity.
Both the immaculate keeper of the Last Dream and the exquisite royal Empress looked out of place here in their modern day dress. Foreigners to a plane of existence that was only available once pure faeborne were taken from their time in the tangible life. That was not to say that this was some farce, a faux haven of deception. It was as real as could be to those that belonged here such as the rousing group of youthful and familiar children that danced further in the distance. Each one smiling, not a care in the world. They were not somber mannequins sleeping but lively and barefoot heathens that were not weighted in guilt, in regret, in heartbreak.
"They remember you." Dom carefully spoke, that limbo of soft and stern.
"Do they?" There was such longing in her voice as she watched them. There was no hurt here. There was no sign or lasting mark to show the things that had been done to them or the cruel hands that had taken them from their beds, from their mother's arms, and then from life itself.
This was the place she had run from so many times. How silly! The trauma of the past several years fell away from her shoulders in this paradise, and Jewell thoughtlessly went to step forward and join her children in their frolic.
They called to her when they saw her approach, the cries of “Mom!” and “Mommy!” bringing tears instantly to her eyes as they raced halfway up the hill to meet her. The triplets, the twins, Moradin, and last but not least her beautiful first born with her dark blue curly hair and a smile softened by her time in this utopia. Her strong daughter that had fought tooth and nail the day they had all been stolen, making sure that she had taken two fae knights with her when Dom escorted her to the Deep Dreaming because they had dared to touch her younger brother first. Even with all the other kids hanging off her, demanding her attention, she still opened her arms to Amanda and her girl wasted no time in embracing her tightly.
And for a little while, everything was as it should be.
They ran about and played all day. For a hundred days. Time held no meaning in the Deep Dreaming. They chased butterflies and danced under waterfalls. They built castles in the sand on the edge of a purple sea. They played tag in a field of wildflowers taller than all of them, plucking the petals after and setting them free into the wind. And for a moment, a thousand beautiful, heart-breaking moments, Jewell was a mother again.
As the trio of suns set one after another, the Empress tucked each one of her precious souls into a flowery bower where they could sleep: safe and sound. She said good night to them as she should have that evening long ago: singing a song, telling a story, kissing them, and treasuring the way their little arms wrapped around her neck and they pressed their lips to her cheek in childish goodnight kisses. From each, she tried to take something to hold onto: Moradin’s shy and rare smile as they snuggled beneath a tree to read together. Devyn’s belly laugh and the one dimple in Kerrick’s right cheek as she made up and told them the story about the little bunny that lived in a burrow on the other side of the hill. The way Eva Jade closed her eyes and settled down with a happy sigh after asking (and receiving) one more song; the way Raven’s hair fell rakishly across his forehead no matter how many times she pushed it back, kissing his head each time she did so despite his playful protests; and Oz’s crushing hug when he told her, “I’m glad you’re my mama.”
“I’m glad to be your mama, love,” she responded despite the choking feeling in her throat.
From Amanda she took one more golden hour to treasure, an hour of sitting together, watching twilight fall and a thousand thousand fireflies take to the air around them. Together they spoke of hopes and dreams, of things long past, and things still yet to come.
“Moradin and I are going to build a ship and sail across that sea.”
“How far do you think it goes?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“Do you remember your Brian Ravenlock doll?”
“Yes!” she giggled. “And the way I used to make him dance across the bar.”
“And Uncle Brian would make you chocolate milk.”
“Yeah, I liked that. That was fun.”
“It was.”
“Do you still have people to watch over you, mama?”
“I don’t need anyone to watch over me.”
“Sure you don’t. But do you have someone anyway?”
“I do.”
“Good.”
As a trail of moons, five in all, rose across the sky to bathe the whole world in their soft light, her girl… her first little girl who had loved her so much, the first person to truly love her at all, took her hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s time to go, mama.”
“No,” Jewell shook her head, unable to live with the choice she had made in that moment. How could she let go of her girl? Her sweet, sweet girl. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t! Every fiber of her being vehemently rejected the bargain she had made. Jewell belonged here with Amanda, with all her children. They were not meant to be parted. “No, I don’t want to leave you. Not again.” She held her daughter’s face with both hands, a promise ready on her lips: to never leave her again, to stay here at her side. To not be parted in this world like they had in the other. They could play and run around all day, every day for eternity and none of them would ever hurt again. The words were already forming as she looked into her grey eyes. Amanda really was her mirror image, but she couldn’t help but think that her eyes should be blue.
As blue as sapphires.
She felt a keening pain deep in her soul. Sapphire. Sapphire lying on the floor of a night club, her life blood pooling around her. The blue haired wonder with her sassy and smart smile that was quick to come to life and light up her whole face and so easily turned to sarcastic mocking. The young woman with a raucous laugh that made others want to laugh along. That girl was in danger, her laughter at risk from being taken from the world too soon. Like Amanda’s had.
Instead of a promise of eternity, Jewell sobbed, “I have to go. I have to go back to her.”
Amanda smiled. She was always so steady and wise. So calm. She had been Jewell’s rock for so long. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. And we’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”
The sídhe did not deserve absolution or reassurance in light of the sin she was about to commit, but she sought it all the same. “Promise me that you’ll still be waiting no matter what happens. No matter what I do. No matter what I have to do. Promise me.”
“Don’t worry, mama. I promise.”
Jewell released her hold on Amanda’s face to wrap her arms around the girl instead, her child stuck on the cusp of adulthood for all eternity. Holding her, she tried desperately to imprint a shortened lifetime of memories onto her very soul where even Dom could not touch them: The midwife putting her daughter into her arms for the first time, the squalling, wrinkled little thing with blue fuzz on her head. Four years when it was just the two of them against the world. Burning pancakes together on weekend mornings, shrieking with laughter as her little girl chased her around the house with sticky, syrup hands. Laying in a hammock together on the beach, talking long into the night. Watching her hold Moradin and recognizing the strong, life-long bond between them. Listening to the girl stutter and watching her blush as she told her about her first kiss. Arguing as they trained together. Laughing through life’s up and downs. Hearing and actually believing the words, “I love you” for the first time from this darling’s lips.
She needed to remember everything--every laugh, kiss, smile, tear, and word--if only for a few more moments.
Amanda pulled away from her, untroubled by the cares and worries that weighed on her mother, and laid down on a bed of sweet smelling grass. Jewell leaned over her, her face wet with tears as she kissed her forehead. “Be safe my darling.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. Nothing can hurt me here.”
“I know. I know.” She brushed her blue hair off her face and leaned down for one last kiss, “I love you, Amanda. Always.”
“I love you too mommy.”
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
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Dom Lahart
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 6
- Joined: Wed Jan 02, 2019 1:18 am
Re: The Deep Dreaming
Dom had learned patience.
Patience for the way that people viewed death. How their eyes would become watery, their cheeks flushed, their emotions tempestuous; hysteria mixed with sorrow was a beautiful construct of the heart. Patience allowed Dom to be the vigilant voyeur, standing there in the serene camouflage of cool skin, awaiting for them to realize that certain things were unable to be bargained for. And now, even in the concept of the Deep Dreaming, she would exude that patience and stand in waiting for Jewell to have her fill. Jewell could be gluttonous in this land of dreamt up magic and feast until she could no longer stomach the reality of the situation; and still, there was Dom.
Time was a bizarre element that was man made. It didn’t belong here where minutes were nothing, and years were the blink of an eye. As the days shifted to nights, the pillar of fate, with all her long limbs and whetted features, remained in the background. Just there, at the corner of the eye. Smudged like a mirage but ever the reminder that this was not where Jewell would remain. That at some point, she would have to face off with the deal and all of this would wither into the unknown of her subconscious.
And Dom waited. Ever patient.
Jewell’s limbs were heavy as she left Amanda’s side and moved to meet Dom with many a look back at the slumbering teen. Just one more glance to remember her by. Just one more look to hold on to. But with each turn of her head, her resolve crumbled a little more. Finally, her progress halted, her feet uncertain. She wanted to run back, throw herself at Amanda’s side, and beg for her forgiveness. She wanted to get lost in this Dream and never return.
Jewell lifted her hands to cover her face, hiding her shame from Dom and removing the temptation of her sleeping children from her eyes. In doing so, though, she inhaled blood.
Sapphire’s blood.
So it was that when she reached Dom, it was not with tears and a broken heart. Her face was dry, grey eyes brittle as iron in the dreamy lights of the Deep Dreaming. The faerie was accustomed by now to clawing her way out of the depths of the deepest despair and pain. Of fighting through it. This is what she had learned in two hundred years spent in service to her family. At the hands of The Vessel and the Temple of the Divine Mother. When iron stopped her heart. As she spent a year fading away to nothing. When her magic was ripped from her chest.
The day she learned her children had perished.
There was work to be done. There was a precious life to be saved. Seven souls had perished but she had the chance to save one more. The sídhe was a cruel cold queen as she stood before Dom, Sapphire’s lifeblood staining her hands and dress. She couldn’t afford to be anything else.
“Take me away from this place.”
They weren’t the begging words of a heartbroken mother. She was the Empress. Nothing could break her. Not even this. And she did not beg.
She struck bargains.
Being broken for so long eventually hardened a soul to the core. Shards of past regrets mutated into scythe like weapons to cut off the fatty pieces of empathy, or the juicy bits of affection. It would be no different here; Jewell was a warning label with too-wild eyes that could decapitate even the most vengeful hydras. Any other being may have flinched in the avalanche that came crushing forward from Jewell’s otherworldly aura but Dom was no ordinary creature to be swayed by it.
Those behind Jewell, the fascinating tribe of slain children, were given a brief but purposeful look. What did it mean to be forgotten? Was that the true death, the final curtain, the six feet under that the dead couldn’t understand? While it may not have been family, blood bound kin, it was Dom that would (and could) remember ever single face she had reaped into the afterlife. It was with that confidence that the opalescent primordial engaged with Jewell by drawing her hand up to gently touch fingertips along the jawline of the Empress.
That world was gone. The introduction back into the hard, gritty reality was forceful. Everything was as it was; Sapphire lay in Jewell’s lap, the bar a galore of broken glass and bloodshed, and the sickening sense of dread which hung through the atmosphere. Dom knelt just there in front of them both, collecting herself to eye level with Jewell. Her hand stretched out to display the open face of the bizarre pocket watch with all of it’s chimerical sigils and runes, the face of it shimmering as if it was made of the same materials that Dom was. At this distance, one could see their own reflection in the shark dark eyes, how they shifted between blood and black.
“I will ask you one more time; is this the trade you are willing to make?"
Jewell hissed in a sharp breath, the transition jarring. A discordant and disharmonious union between utopia and the broken and shattered bar teased her vision for a moment before dissipating along with the presence of her children. She let them go. She could not cling to them any longer. If she looked back, she was lost and so was Sapphire. Instead, she clung to the dying girl in her arms, letting the acrid smoke, the sweet smell of fae blood mingled with shit and sugary cocktails, replace the memory of the sweet evening air she and Amanda had enjoyed just moments ago. Her determination had not weakened at all but was hardened as the bar came into focus, still frozen in that moment before Sapphire’s last breath. Her girl was securely in her arms but only as long as time stood still. And Dom was just a touch away with Sapphire stuck liminally between the two of them. Between death and life.
It was Jewell’s choice which she would find.
“You insult me,” the Empress growled, haughty to the last. “I gave you my word. Take them from me, woman, but you will not touch her. Not while there is a breath left to me.” She looked down, brushing Sapphire’s hair away from her face again. “You will take my memories of you as well, won’t you?” Only then did she look up into those obsidian eyes, her wolfish smile a promise: despite the gift Dom had given her, Jewell had not forgiven her. “It doesn’t matter. I will find you.”
Everyone felt something different towards Dom between the veils of what was, and what could have been. This face of alien beauty with its too sharp angles and too bold lines all heaped into a pretend image of what she wanted to be, what she expected had she been a of mortal heart and bone. Those that dove too deep often found themselves drowning in her eyes while others attempted to crawl too close to her neutral mouth and it’s milk-pink allure. Any and all, though, found out just how much this fae-collector remained in limbo. But like all creatures when they are put in a corner, they lash out. They spit vitriol and bile, foaming at the mouth, painting her the damnable sinner.
Unchanged from the cosmic leap between the walls of dream, Dom relented a small smile in the face of a tooth-showing royal. A barely there slip of an expression that was poised to toe the line of polished and predatory, to juggle the element of Jewell’s frustration, her strife, with the unbroken alignment of her nature. A nature that was drawn in the stars by a destiny she did not control. Unless a deal was ready to be made.
“I have no doubt that you will find me, Jewell. Or, that I will find you --”, she trailed breathlessly, leaving a cryptic innuendo there to unmask if the Empress so wished. “-- just as I have found you each time before.” Her voice grew so quiet but seemed to be the only telling sound in the whole of the ransacked bar. Echoes upon echoes, the layering of different tones that shifted as seamlessly as a snake through it’s own skin. That was the voice of fate, of the first ancient one, of the woman who reached to execute a wave in front of Jewell’s face. Curling her wrist back, a fist made, slow to draw it away from Jewell until she blossomed her hand open to display a pearl-blue glow of static in the epicenter of her palm. Each child that she was giving up frolicked there, quick snippets of every single memory being changed over like cruising through television shows. A brief flicker of smiles, a warbled ripple of tears, the anguish and anger and ultimately every other emotion that was tied to those moments was represented in faerie dust particles. The light from it bright enough to cast shadows across all three of their faces.
The memories were siphoned away from her, slowly at first and then faster and faster like fine grains of sand slipping through a sieve, unstoppable. In their place, Jewell was shifted. Altered. Her life readjusted itself seamlessly, filling in the gaping holes left behind while the wind of Dom’s magic smoothed out the surface and obscured the little details, retouching her entire existence. No more children to teach her selflessness. No more Amanda as her rock. No more grievous loss and drawn out pursuit of revenge to poison her and make her bitter and broken. No more childish kisses and goodnight songs to make her sweet. No more I love you mama to soften her and make her more kind.
Once again, Jewell was remade: colder, harder, more selfish.
She stared owlishly, confused, as once familiar scenes played out in Dom’s hand while the primordial admired it as a god might the actions of lesser beings. Curious, intent on deciphering the value of these minutes, her head tilted to engage some closer inspection. Eyes quickly migrated to watch Jewell before the inevitable was to come: She crushed her hand closed to shatter the glow into a glittery dust.
Just like that, they were no longer a part of what made the Empress.
And Dom was gone.
There was a buzz of people around her, running, shouting, crying for help. Jewell ignored them all, cradling the bloody body of Sapphire against her chest. There was so much blood. The young woman took a deep, shuddering breath. “I tried…” she started before she coughed, her body wracked with spasm and pain.
“Shh. I know you did, sweetie. You’re a real hero.” Sapphire smiled and closed her eyes. Only then did Jewell look around, “I need a medic here, now! She’s… she’s dying! Someone help me.” She could feel her girl’s pulse fluttering, weak. She tried to pour her own energy into her, to stop the bleeding, but she had already lost so much. “Someone…” she looked around, desperate.
A first responder ran up to her, kneeling in the growing pool of Sapphire’s blood. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ve got her. George!” she shouted over her shoulder. “This one has to go first! She’s in bad shape.” She took out a bottle from her bag even as she shouted commands, spraying Sapphire’s wounds with the mix to stop her bleeding. “This your little girl, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Jewell cried. “She’s my daughter. You have to save her. I don’t have anyone else. She’s… her name is Sapphire.”
“You hear that, Sapphire? You’re all she’s got so stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you over to RhyDin General and everything is gonna be all right. Just hang on now.”
(Written between Dom Lahart and JewellRavenlock!)
Patience for the way that people viewed death. How their eyes would become watery, their cheeks flushed, their emotions tempestuous; hysteria mixed with sorrow was a beautiful construct of the heart. Patience allowed Dom to be the vigilant voyeur, standing there in the serene camouflage of cool skin, awaiting for them to realize that certain things were unable to be bargained for. And now, even in the concept of the Deep Dreaming, she would exude that patience and stand in waiting for Jewell to have her fill. Jewell could be gluttonous in this land of dreamt up magic and feast until she could no longer stomach the reality of the situation; and still, there was Dom.
Time was a bizarre element that was man made. It didn’t belong here where minutes were nothing, and years were the blink of an eye. As the days shifted to nights, the pillar of fate, with all her long limbs and whetted features, remained in the background. Just there, at the corner of the eye. Smudged like a mirage but ever the reminder that this was not where Jewell would remain. That at some point, she would have to face off with the deal and all of this would wither into the unknown of her subconscious.
And Dom waited. Ever patient.
Jewell’s limbs were heavy as she left Amanda’s side and moved to meet Dom with many a look back at the slumbering teen. Just one more glance to remember her by. Just one more look to hold on to. But with each turn of her head, her resolve crumbled a little more. Finally, her progress halted, her feet uncertain. She wanted to run back, throw herself at Amanda’s side, and beg for her forgiveness. She wanted to get lost in this Dream and never return.
Jewell lifted her hands to cover her face, hiding her shame from Dom and removing the temptation of her sleeping children from her eyes. In doing so, though, she inhaled blood.
Sapphire’s blood.
So it was that when she reached Dom, it was not with tears and a broken heart. Her face was dry, grey eyes brittle as iron in the dreamy lights of the Deep Dreaming. The faerie was accustomed by now to clawing her way out of the depths of the deepest despair and pain. Of fighting through it. This is what she had learned in two hundred years spent in service to her family. At the hands of The Vessel and the Temple of the Divine Mother. When iron stopped her heart. As she spent a year fading away to nothing. When her magic was ripped from her chest.
The day she learned her children had perished.
There was work to be done. There was a precious life to be saved. Seven souls had perished but she had the chance to save one more. The sídhe was a cruel cold queen as she stood before Dom, Sapphire’s lifeblood staining her hands and dress. She couldn’t afford to be anything else.
“Take me away from this place.”
They weren’t the begging words of a heartbroken mother. She was the Empress. Nothing could break her. Not even this. And she did not beg.
She struck bargains.
Being broken for so long eventually hardened a soul to the core. Shards of past regrets mutated into scythe like weapons to cut off the fatty pieces of empathy, or the juicy bits of affection. It would be no different here; Jewell was a warning label with too-wild eyes that could decapitate even the most vengeful hydras. Any other being may have flinched in the avalanche that came crushing forward from Jewell’s otherworldly aura but Dom was no ordinary creature to be swayed by it.
Those behind Jewell, the fascinating tribe of slain children, were given a brief but purposeful look. What did it mean to be forgotten? Was that the true death, the final curtain, the six feet under that the dead couldn’t understand? While it may not have been family, blood bound kin, it was Dom that would (and could) remember ever single face she had reaped into the afterlife. It was with that confidence that the opalescent primordial engaged with Jewell by drawing her hand up to gently touch fingertips along the jawline of the Empress.
That world was gone. The introduction back into the hard, gritty reality was forceful. Everything was as it was; Sapphire lay in Jewell’s lap, the bar a galore of broken glass and bloodshed, and the sickening sense of dread which hung through the atmosphere. Dom knelt just there in front of them both, collecting herself to eye level with Jewell. Her hand stretched out to display the open face of the bizarre pocket watch with all of it’s chimerical sigils and runes, the face of it shimmering as if it was made of the same materials that Dom was. At this distance, one could see their own reflection in the shark dark eyes, how they shifted between blood and black.
“I will ask you one more time; is this the trade you are willing to make?"
Jewell hissed in a sharp breath, the transition jarring. A discordant and disharmonious union between utopia and the broken and shattered bar teased her vision for a moment before dissipating along with the presence of her children. She let them go. She could not cling to them any longer. If she looked back, she was lost and so was Sapphire. Instead, she clung to the dying girl in her arms, letting the acrid smoke, the sweet smell of fae blood mingled with shit and sugary cocktails, replace the memory of the sweet evening air she and Amanda had enjoyed just moments ago. Her determination had not weakened at all but was hardened as the bar came into focus, still frozen in that moment before Sapphire’s last breath. Her girl was securely in her arms but only as long as time stood still. And Dom was just a touch away with Sapphire stuck liminally between the two of them. Between death and life.
It was Jewell’s choice which she would find.
“You insult me,” the Empress growled, haughty to the last. “I gave you my word. Take them from me, woman, but you will not touch her. Not while there is a breath left to me.” She looked down, brushing Sapphire’s hair away from her face again. “You will take my memories of you as well, won’t you?” Only then did she look up into those obsidian eyes, her wolfish smile a promise: despite the gift Dom had given her, Jewell had not forgiven her. “It doesn’t matter. I will find you.”
Everyone felt something different towards Dom between the veils of what was, and what could have been. This face of alien beauty with its too sharp angles and too bold lines all heaped into a pretend image of what she wanted to be, what she expected had she been a of mortal heart and bone. Those that dove too deep often found themselves drowning in her eyes while others attempted to crawl too close to her neutral mouth and it’s milk-pink allure. Any and all, though, found out just how much this fae-collector remained in limbo. But like all creatures when they are put in a corner, they lash out. They spit vitriol and bile, foaming at the mouth, painting her the damnable sinner.
Unchanged from the cosmic leap between the walls of dream, Dom relented a small smile in the face of a tooth-showing royal. A barely there slip of an expression that was poised to toe the line of polished and predatory, to juggle the element of Jewell’s frustration, her strife, with the unbroken alignment of her nature. A nature that was drawn in the stars by a destiny she did not control. Unless a deal was ready to be made.
“I have no doubt that you will find me, Jewell. Or, that I will find you --”, she trailed breathlessly, leaving a cryptic innuendo there to unmask if the Empress so wished. “-- just as I have found you each time before.” Her voice grew so quiet but seemed to be the only telling sound in the whole of the ransacked bar. Echoes upon echoes, the layering of different tones that shifted as seamlessly as a snake through it’s own skin. That was the voice of fate, of the first ancient one, of the woman who reached to execute a wave in front of Jewell’s face. Curling her wrist back, a fist made, slow to draw it away from Jewell until she blossomed her hand open to display a pearl-blue glow of static in the epicenter of her palm. Each child that she was giving up frolicked there, quick snippets of every single memory being changed over like cruising through television shows. A brief flicker of smiles, a warbled ripple of tears, the anguish and anger and ultimately every other emotion that was tied to those moments was represented in faerie dust particles. The light from it bright enough to cast shadows across all three of their faces.
The memories were siphoned away from her, slowly at first and then faster and faster like fine grains of sand slipping through a sieve, unstoppable. In their place, Jewell was shifted. Altered. Her life readjusted itself seamlessly, filling in the gaping holes left behind while the wind of Dom’s magic smoothed out the surface and obscured the little details, retouching her entire existence. No more children to teach her selflessness. No more Amanda as her rock. No more grievous loss and drawn out pursuit of revenge to poison her and make her bitter and broken. No more childish kisses and goodnight songs to make her sweet. No more I love you mama to soften her and make her more kind.
Once again, Jewell was remade: colder, harder, more selfish.
She stared owlishly, confused, as once familiar scenes played out in Dom’s hand while the primordial admired it as a god might the actions of lesser beings. Curious, intent on deciphering the value of these minutes, her head tilted to engage some closer inspection. Eyes quickly migrated to watch Jewell before the inevitable was to come: She crushed her hand closed to shatter the glow into a glittery dust.
Just like that, they were no longer a part of what made the Empress.
And Dom was gone.
There was a buzz of people around her, running, shouting, crying for help. Jewell ignored them all, cradling the bloody body of Sapphire against her chest. There was so much blood. The young woman took a deep, shuddering breath. “I tried…” she started before she coughed, her body wracked with spasm and pain.
“Shh. I know you did, sweetie. You’re a real hero.” Sapphire smiled and closed her eyes. Only then did Jewell look around, “I need a medic here, now! She’s… she’s dying! Someone help me.” She could feel her girl’s pulse fluttering, weak. She tried to pour her own energy into her, to stop the bleeding, but she had already lost so much. “Someone…” she looked around, desperate.
A first responder ran up to her, kneeling in the growing pool of Sapphire’s blood. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ve got her. George!” she shouted over her shoulder. “This one has to go first! She’s in bad shape.” She took out a bottle from her bag even as she shouted commands, spraying Sapphire’s wounds with the mix to stop her bleeding. “This your little girl, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Jewell cried. “She’s my daughter. You have to save her. I don’t have anyone else. She’s… her name is Sapphire.”
“You hear that, Sapphire? You’re all she’s got so stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you over to RhyDin General and everything is gonna be all right. Just hang on now.”
(Written between Dom Lahart and JewellRavenlock!)
“That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
Re: The Deep Dreaming
Text to Mallory @ 10:38pm: Meet me at RhyDin General
Text to Mallory @ 10:38pm: Demon attacked nightclub. we were there. Sapphire badly hurt. Going into surgery now.
Text to Mallory @ 10:39pm: I need your help
Text to Jewell @ 10:41pm: omw. how is she? what do you need?
Text to Mallory @ 10:42pm: not good and I can’t leave her. Better to ask in person
Text to Jewell @ 10:42pm: look outside.
* * * * *
The horned witch stood on the curb outside the front doors, letting blood drip from the gaping wound across her left palm as worried onlookers stared. The air reeked of burning ozone, lingering and crackling around her in the wake of her teleportation, but the strange haze blew away as the hospital doors slid open. The hood of her jacket was drawn up, but it did little to conceal the fiery glow of Mallory’s vibrant green eyes.
Jewell had told the nurse she just needed a bit of fresh air and where to find her if she needed. She did need some fresh air. Mallory had seen Jewell at some of the lowest points of her life, but the faerie looked worse tonight than any of those times. Her sparkly leggings, backless shirt, and heels were all saturated with blood. Someone had gotten her to wash it off her hands and arms, but there was still traces of it on her neck, face, and in her hair. She didn’t hesitate to cross the sidewalk, heading right for Mallory and wrapping her in a hug--bloody hand and all.
Mallory clenched her eyes shut as she squeezed Jewell, unable to stop a rush of hot tears down her face. “How’s Sapphire?” she asked hoarsely.
She wasn’t quite ready to let go of the witch yet as Mallory’s tears released her own that she had held back valiantly over the last hour. “They said she’ll live but they don’t… they won’t know the damage done.” Jewell almost lost it at that but she made herself take a deep, shuddering breath and release Mallory. She stepped back, wiping at her tears furiously. “She’ll be okay. I won’t let her not.” She meant it too. She’d go to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for Sapphire.
Mallory nodded at Jewell as she explained, and sniffed as she wiped away her tears with the back of her arm. The aching grief of that moment was shoved aside and replaced by an infernal fury, one that demanded revenge for her wounded friend. “What about the demon?”
She nodded, still struggling to exert her normal amount of control. “Lesser demon. Someone or something summoned him over. I touched the link, but only for a moment before I tore him apart and sent him back to the other side. They called him He Who Tears and Destroys.”
“Seireterephedam.” That she knew the infernal syllables by heart would have surprised Mallory more at any other time. Her left hand curled into a fist, squeezing a fresh rivulet of blood from the tear in her palm. “Who sent him?”
A chill born of pure hate ran down her spine at hearing the creature’s name, but it wasn’t him who she wanted well and truly dead. “I don’t know. He was strong enough, so I doubt it was just one. Felt like more.” Jewell didn’t hesitate before blurting out her request, “I need you to find him, them… whoever. I tried,” a sob choked her words. “I tried to summon Ishmerai but he didn’t… he didn’t respond,” the faerie was borderline hysterical for a moment, her tears left unchecked. She had been so good without him, so strong, but this broke her. She needed her knight and he wasn’t here and she was so completely lost without him in this moment. So alone. “He’s not coming. And I can’t leave her alone. I can’t.”
Mallory’s gaze fell, her eyes moving restlessly as she wrestled with her guilt. Ishmerai was the man they could count on for protection and revenge, something the witch had known since he’d shown her the mangled remains of her tormentor, Lanuathen; but now he couldn’t answer because he was away in Faerie, paying her debt to Lorelei.
And now Fate had seen fit to balance the scales by making the witch pay another price. “If I summon the demon...” I can strike a bargain, learn what he knows. Mallory shook her head, not dismissing the thought so much as the thought of telling Jewell. “I can find them.” It was a promise, and she sealed it with a kiss, drawing her hood back and stepping up to press her lips to the faerie’s brow. “Stay with Sapphire. I’ll take care of everything.”
She took an unsteady breath and nodded, reassured by the promise. By the kiss. In her consent was evidence of how much she trusted Mallory and how much the witch meant to her, “Okay.”
With that, the witch turned her horned head, her fiery eyes a warning to the curious onlookers who quickly stepped out of her path. She darted across the busy way in front of the hospital, disappearing into a narrow alley that would take her to the Lyceum.
Something told her she’d need its arcane treasures before the end of the night.
“Happy hunting, Mallory.” Jewell whispered as Mallory slipped out of sight. “I’m counting on you.”
((Co-written between Jewell and the amazing Mallory))
Text to Mallory @ 10:38pm: Demon attacked nightclub. we were there. Sapphire badly hurt. Going into surgery now.
Text to Mallory @ 10:39pm: I need your help
Text to Jewell @ 10:41pm: omw. how is she? what do you need?
Text to Mallory @ 10:42pm: not good and I can’t leave her. Better to ask in person
Text to Jewell @ 10:42pm: look outside.
* * * * *
The horned witch stood on the curb outside the front doors, letting blood drip from the gaping wound across her left palm as worried onlookers stared. The air reeked of burning ozone, lingering and crackling around her in the wake of her teleportation, but the strange haze blew away as the hospital doors slid open. The hood of her jacket was drawn up, but it did little to conceal the fiery glow of Mallory’s vibrant green eyes.
Jewell had told the nurse she just needed a bit of fresh air and where to find her if she needed. She did need some fresh air. Mallory had seen Jewell at some of the lowest points of her life, but the faerie looked worse tonight than any of those times. Her sparkly leggings, backless shirt, and heels were all saturated with blood. Someone had gotten her to wash it off her hands and arms, but there was still traces of it on her neck, face, and in her hair. She didn’t hesitate to cross the sidewalk, heading right for Mallory and wrapping her in a hug--bloody hand and all.
Mallory clenched her eyes shut as she squeezed Jewell, unable to stop a rush of hot tears down her face. “How’s Sapphire?” she asked hoarsely.
She wasn’t quite ready to let go of the witch yet as Mallory’s tears released her own that she had held back valiantly over the last hour. “They said she’ll live but they don’t… they won’t know the damage done.” Jewell almost lost it at that but she made herself take a deep, shuddering breath and release Mallory. She stepped back, wiping at her tears furiously. “She’ll be okay. I won’t let her not.” She meant it too. She’d go to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for Sapphire.
Mallory nodded at Jewell as she explained, and sniffed as she wiped away her tears with the back of her arm. The aching grief of that moment was shoved aside and replaced by an infernal fury, one that demanded revenge for her wounded friend. “What about the demon?”
She nodded, still struggling to exert her normal amount of control. “Lesser demon. Someone or something summoned him over. I touched the link, but only for a moment before I tore him apart and sent him back to the other side. They called him He Who Tears and Destroys.”
“Seireterephedam.” That she knew the infernal syllables by heart would have surprised Mallory more at any other time. Her left hand curled into a fist, squeezing a fresh rivulet of blood from the tear in her palm. “Who sent him?”
A chill born of pure hate ran down her spine at hearing the creature’s name, but it wasn’t him who she wanted well and truly dead. “I don’t know. He was strong enough, so I doubt it was just one. Felt like more.” Jewell didn’t hesitate before blurting out her request, “I need you to find him, them… whoever. I tried,” a sob choked her words. “I tried to summon Ishmerai but he didn’t… he didn’t respond,” the faerie was borderline hysterical for a moment, her tears left unchecked. She had been so good without him, so strong, but this broke her. She needed her knight and he wasn’t here and she was so completely lost without him in this moment. So alone. “He’s not coming. And I can’t leave her alone. I can’t.”
Mallory’s gaze fell, her eyes moving restlessly as she wrestled with her guilt. Ishmerai was the man they could count on for protection and revenge, something the witch had known since he’d shown her the mangled remains of her tormentor, Lanuathen; but now he couldn’t answer because he was away in Faerie, paying her debt to Lorelei.
And now Fate had seen fit to balance the scales by making the witch pay another price. “If I summon the demon...” I can strike a bargain, learn what he knows. Mallory shook her head, not dismissing the thought so much as the thought of telling Jewell. “I can find them.” It was a promise, and she sealed it with a kiss, drawing her hood back and stepping up to press her lips to the faerie’s brow. “Stay with Sapphire. I’ll take care of everything.”
She took an unsteady breath and nodded, reassured by the promise. By the kiss. In her consent was evidence of how much she trusted Mallory and how much the witch meant to her, “Okay.”
With that, the witch turned her horned head, her fiery eyes a warning to the curious onlookers who quickly stepped out of her path. She darted across the busy way in front of the hospital, disappearing into a narrow alley that would take her to the Lyceum.
Something told her she’d need its arcane treasures before the end of the night.
“Happy hunting, Mallory.” Jewell whispered as Mallory slipped out of sight. “I’m counting on you.”
((Co-written between Jewell and the amazing Mallory))
-
Mallory
- RoH Admin
- Posts: 921
- Joined: Sun Jan 15, 2017 9:25 pm
- Location: The Lyceum or Kabuki Street, most of the time
Re: The Deep Dreaming
Mallory pressed her back to the door as she slammed it shut, rattling the Lyceum’s heavy knocker with the impact. She was alone in the darkened shop, lit only by the shafts of pale light from the atrium and arcane glimmers in the dust that hung in the air... and a flickering green light cast by the infernal fire in her own eyes.
She clenched them shut and took a deep breath.
Her vision was filled with imagined scenes of Sapphire’s near demise, a lesser demon howling with glee as it tore her open. Her insides made the same sound Abene’s had when she’d died last Valentine’s Day, the wet splatter audible over the frenzied beat of the night club. She screamed for anyone who would listen, Mama! Mal! Merai, please! as the demon dug deeper into her body, pausing only to look back at Mallory with an arrogant smile full of bloody fangs. He Who Tears And Destroys.
Seireterephedam.
The witch’s fingernails had dug unnaturally deep lines into the wooden door behind her, and her temples ached at the base of her horns with every pulse of the fury that had overwhelmed her senses. She grit her teeth together and forced her eyes open and her feet forward, over to the trapdoor behind the counter and the workshop below. As she landed on the basement’s cold brick floor, arcane lanterns flared to life, casting their eerie light over wands and staffs, rings and medallions, swords and daggers that hung on the walls and occupied shelves with scattered notes, spell components, and the countless other tools of her and Safiya’s trade.
“What do I need...?” she murmured to herself as she sorted through her closest options, blue fire and black miasma and a raging sandstorm stoppered in thick glass vials. “What... the fuck... am I even going to do?”
Burn them.
The ruby-hilted sword Drachenbane was hanging on the wall directly behind her; its gemstones gleamed strangely when she turned to look at it, filled with roaring fire. This wasn’t the first time the blade had spoken to the witch, and it caused her to narrow her eyes with suspicion. “What do you want?” she hissed.
Silence.
Mallory kept a wary eye on it as she knelt in the middle of the workshop. Whatever she did tonight, first she had to find out who was responsible for hurting her friend -- and there was only one being who could answer that question. All the components she needed for a ritual summoning were close at hand down here, and in only a few minutes she had a circle of ritually prepared salt, three candles, and a triangle of her own blood stretching between them.
She held out her dripping left hand in the center of the circle as she knelt just outside its salt barrier, allowing a generous crimson puddle to form as an offering before she invoked the demon’s name: “Seireterephedam.”
One moment she was alone, and the next, there was a pathetic creature lapping at her spilled blood, a gangly mass of broken limbs and withered wings, still blighted by the scars of Jewell’s magic that wound around its torso in bright silver veins. It was as wobbly on its feet as a newborn calf, supporting itself on its long-fingered hands as it dragged its forked tongue across the blood-soaked floor and stared up at Mallory with bulbous, iridescent eyes, like a pair of opals covered in slime.
She could feel another wave of white-hot rage wash over her as it feasted on her blood, unworried in her presence even in this diminished form, barely an hour after digging its claws deep into her friend.
You know what to do.
The ruby-hilted sword found an opening to speak to the witch through her fury, little different from the fury of those who had dared to wield the cursed blade in the past. She forced herself not to look at it, to remain focused on the demon she was here to parlay with, as it finished its meal and blinked benignly at her.
“You have something I want.”
“I do,” it croaked, bobbing its head and giving her a toothy grin.
She jabbed her index finger at it and narrowed her eyes: “You will give it to me.”
It parted its jaws just wide enough to hiss a laugh at her. “I might.” It ran its bloody tongue across its teeth as it considered her, then the objects around them, bulbous eyes swiveling in their shriveled sockets.
“See something you like?”
It let out another laugh, choked by a dry, wracking cough, and managed to lift up one hand and point a claw at Drachenbane. “That blade... it is cursed by a demon of fire and rage, a balor.”
“Tch.” The witch sneered derisively at the withered demon before her and shook her head. “Much too powerful for something like you to handle.”
“I would like to see you wield it.”
Mallory had only a split second to react, eyes wide with both surprise and anger that this creature had managed to put her on her back foot already, if only for a moment -- before the sword spoke once more. It thinks the sword will make you weak... weak enough to possess. She rose from her knees and held out her left hand, the slowly sharpening point of her ring fingernail poised over the soft skin of her palm, ready to break the circle and banish the demon with a simple pinprick of blood. “Yeah... that’s the last thing I need.”
The demon let out another long series of hisses, slapping its blood-slick hands against its gaunt legs as it laughed at her. You -- you’re stronger than the last one, but this creature thinks you’re weak. Prove it wrong.
Her horns ached terribly as another wave of rage washed over her. She took a deep breath... then blew it out, and stared at the demon. “Tell me the names of those who summoned you, and the proper name for the smallest place,” she said carefully, watching its expression rise before it fell sourly at her choice of words, “where they summoned you.”
“That is two things,” it snapped angrily at her, slapping its claws against the brick floor with a small shower of sparks. “So I shall require two things. You wield the sword... and I will tell you the names of those who summoned me, and the name for the smallest place where they summoned me, at the moment that you break the barrier.”
Mallory stared at the ruby-hilted sword for a long moment, watching the fire leap within the deep red gemstones in time with her thudding heartbeat, which had grown loud and fast with her anger. “Agreed,” she said through gritted teeth, and stretched out her right hand to close around the hilt... searing her flesh as soon as she made contact.
She screamed.
She clenched them shut and took a deep breath.
Her vision was filled with imagined scenes of Sapphire’s near demise, a lesser demon howling with glee as it tore her open. Her insides made the same sound Abene’s had when she’d died last Valentine’s Day, the wet splatter audible over the frenzied beat of the night club. She screamed for anyone who would listen, Mama! Mal! Merai, please! as the demon dug deeper into her body, pausing only to look back at Mallory with an arrogant smile full of bloody fangs. He Who Tears And Destroys.
Seireterephedam.
The witch’s fingernails had dug unnaturally deep lines into the wooden door behind her, and her temples ached at the base of her horns with every pulse of the fury that had overwhelmed her senses. She grit her teeth together and forced her eyes open and her feet forward, over to the trapdoor behind the counter and the workshop below. As she landed on the basement’s cold brick floor, arcane lanterns flared to life, casting their eerie light over wands and staffs, rings and medallions, swords and daggers that hung on the walls and occupied shelves with scattered notes, spell components, and the countless other tools of her and Safiya’s trade.
“What do I need...?” she murmured to herself as she sorted through her closest options, blue fire and black miasma and a raging sandstorm stoppered in thick glass vials. “What... the fuck... am I even going to do?”
Burn them.
The ruby-hilted sword Drachenbane was hanging on the wall directly behind her; its gemstones gleamed strangely when she turned to look at it, filled with roaring fire. This wasn’t the first time the blade had spoken to the witch, and it caused her to narrow her eyes with suspicion. “What do you want?” she hissed.
Silence.
Mallory kept a wary eye on it as she knelt in the middle of the workshop. Whatever she did tonight, first she had to find out who was responsible for hurting her friend -- and there was only one being who could answer that question. All the components she needed for a ritual summoning were close at hand down here, and in only a few minutes she had a circle of ritually prepared salt, three candles, and a triangle of her own blood stretching between them.
She held out her dripping left hand in the center of the circle as she knelt just outside its salt barrier, allowing a generous crimson puddle to form as an offering before she invoked the demon’s name: “Seireterephedam.”
One moment she was alone, and the next, there was a pathetic creature lapping at her spilled blood, a gangly mass of broken limbs and withered wings, still blighted by the scars of Jewell’s magic that wound around its torso in bright silver veins. It was as wobbly on its feet as a newborn calf, supporting itself on its long-fingered hands as it dragged its forked tongue across the blood-soaked floor and stared up at Mallory with bulbous, iridescent eyes, like a pair of opals covered in slime.
She could feel another wave of white-hot rage wash over her as it feasted on her blood, unworried in her presence even in this diminished form, barely an hour after digging its claws deep into her friend.
You know what to do.
The ruby-hilted sword found an opening to speak to the witch through her fury, little different from the fury of those who had dared to wield the cursed blade in the past. She forced herself not to look at it, to remain focused on the demon she was here to parlay with, as it finished its meal and blinked benignly at her.
“You have something I want.”
“I do,” it croaked, bobbing its head and giving her a toothy grin.
She jabbed her index finger at it and narrowed her eyes: “You will give it to me.”
It parted its jaws just wide enough to hiss a laugh at her. “I might.” It ran its bloody tongue across its teeth as it considered her, then the objects around them, bulbous eyes swiveling in their shriveled sockets.
“See something you like?”
It let out another laugh, choked by a dry, wracking cough, and managed to lift up one hand and point a claw at Drachenbane. “That blade... it is cursed by a demon of fire and rage, a balor.”
“Tch.” The witch sneered derisively at the withered demon before her and shook her head. “Much too powerful for something like you to handle.”
“I would like to see you wield it.”
Mallory had only a split second to react, eyes wide with both surprise and anger that this creature had managed to put her on her back foot already, if only for a moment -- before the sword spoke once more. It thinks the sword will make you weak... weak enough to possess. She rose from her knees and held out her left hand, the slowly sharpening point of her ring fingernail poised over the soft skin of her palm, ready to break the circle and banish the demon with a simple pinprick of blood. “Yeah... that’s the last thing I need.”
The demon let out another long series of hisses, slapping its blood-slick hands against its gaunt legs as it laughed at her. You -- you’re stronger than the last one, but this creature thinks you’re weak. Prove it wrong.
Her horns ached terribly as another wave of rage washed over her. She took a deep breath... then blew it out, and stared at the demon. “Tell me the names of those who summoned you, and the proper name for the smallest place,” she said carefully, watching its expression rise before it fell sourly at her choice of words, “where they summoned you.”
“That is two things,” it snapped angrily at her, slapping its claws against the brick floor with a small shower of sparks. “So I shall require two things. You wield the sword... and I will tell you the names of those who summoned me, and the name for the smallest place where they summoned me, at the moment that you break the barrier.”
Mallory stared at the ruby-hilted sword for a long moment, watching the fire leap within the deep red gemstones in time with her thudding heartbeat, which had grown loud and fast with her anger. “Agreed,” she said through gritted teeth, and stretched out her right hand to close around the hilt... searing her flesh as soon as she made contact.
She screamed.
-
Mallory
- RoH Admin
- Posts: 921
- Joined: Sun Jan 15, 2017 9:25 pm
- Location: The Lyceum or Kabuki Street, most of the time
Re: The Deep Dreaming
Banners snapped in the wind, singed by the embers that swirled around them, each one a field of black with a horned heart in the center, protected by a ring of three crimson hounds. They were affixed to spears, halberds and pikes driven into the ground, many of them skewering the bodies of the dead and dying. Other figures crawled forward on their knees, expressions locked in smiles of rapturous glee, as they dipped their hands into the rivulets of blood flowing from the center.
And there stood Mallory -- her left hand turned upward, below where her heart hung in the air, spilling an endless stream of blood into her palm and through her fingers, feeding the tributaries that nursed her subjects. Her right hand was downturned, a perfect counterbalance, palm on the pommel of the flaming sword partially buried in the ruptured earth.
Over the distant cries of battle and the moaning of the dying, she could hear her subjects as they chanted with one voice: “Praise to Malleus, who stands between life and death.”
* * * * *
She willed the fire to stop its seemingly inexorable spread filling her vision, and opened her eyes.
Her right hand still burned, but the fire felt like it came from within. The skin was black and grey, but her veins glowed orange and white, like living embers that were more than strong enough to keep the blade steady in her grasp. She could see the waves of heat in the air, radiating off of the weapon and her own skin, and heard the gleeful cackling of the caged demon as it watched her reel from her connection to Drachenbane.
Like Arane, Mallory had been marked by her choice. Like Ishmerai, she had paid the price and been blighted.
“My freedom, witchling... as we agreed,” the abyssal creature hissed through its teeth.
She staggered, swinging her blade in a low arc that gave off a burst of fire and hot air, strong enough to scatter the barrier that kept the demon caged, and as it slithered up to the gap, it missed the way she kept a close eye on him in spite of her apparent dizziness -- and the tiny wellspring of blood that had formed when her fingernail pierced her left palm. It blinked slowly at her, its iridescent eyes taking on a radiant glow as it spoke:
“I was summoned by three, a woman named Sylvia, and two men, Caleb and Valko. They were at the old Zeppa warehouse, in Dockside. Now open your body to me, witch, that I might take the reins,” it finished with a growl, loping towards her with sudden speed as its eyes flashed.
In one motion Mallory negated its hypnotic spell, scattering blood that emitted a bright burst of crimson in the air -- and grabbed its shriveled head with the same hand. It shrieked pathetically as she marked it with her blood, but before it could claw its way free, she had plunged the fiery blade through its chest, and it shrieked even louder as it burned.
“I thank you for your service, Seireterephedam -- and for the feast.” As the light faded from the creature’s eyes, the shadowy essence of its weakened spirit burst out of its flesh, drawn in through Mallory’s blood and the open tear in her palm. She shuddered from head to toe, letting the feeling of the lesser demon’s power wash over her, slowly replenishing what magic she had spent in conjuring and dealing with this creature.
Then, with a low swing of Drachenbane, she snuffed the arcane lanterns and ritual candles out, plunging the workshop into darkness -- save for the building glow of the blade itself.
And there stood Mallory -- her left hand turned upward, below where her heart hung in the air, spilling an endless stream of blood into her palm and through her fingers, feeding the tributaries that nursed her subjects. Her right hand was downturned, a perfect counterbalance, palm on the pommel of the flaming sword partially buried in the ruptured earth.
Over the distant cries of battle and the moaning of the dying, she could hear her subjects as they chanted with one voice: “Praise to Malleus, who stands between life and death.”
* * * * *
She willed the fire to stop its seemingly inexorable spread filling her vision, and opened her eyes.
Her right hand still burned, but the fire felt like it came from within. The skin was black and grey, but her veins glowed orange and white, like living embers that were more than strong enough to keep the blade steady in her grasp. She could see the waves of heat in the air, radiating off of the weapon and her own skin, and heard the gleeful cackling of the caged demon as it watched her reel from her connection to Drachenbane.
Like Arane, Mallory had been marked by her choice. Like Ishmerai, she had paid the price and been blighted.
“My freedom, witchling... as we agreed,” the abyssal creature hissed through its teeth.
She staggered, swinging her blade in a low arc that gave off a burst of fire and hot air, strong enough to scatter the barrier that kept the demon caged, and as it slithered up to the gap, it missed the way she kept a close eye on him in spite of her apparent dizziness -- and the tiny wellspring of blood that had formed when her fingernail pierced her left palm. It blinked slowly at her, its iridescent eyes taking on a radiant glow as it spoke:
“I was summoned by three, a woman named Sylvia, and two men, Caleb and Valko. They were at the old Zeppa warehouse, in Dockside. Now open your body to me, witch, that I might take the reins,” it finished with a growl, loping towards her with sudden speed as its eyes flashed.
In one motion Mallory negated its hypnotic spell, scattering blood that emitted a bright burst of crimson in the air -- and grabbed its shriveled head with the same hand. It shrieked pathetically as she marked it with her blood, but before it could claw its way free, she had plunged the fiery blade through its chest, and it shrieked even louder as it burned.
“I thank you for your service, Seireterephedam -- and for the feast.” As the light faded from the creature’s eyes, the shadowy essence of its weakened spirit burst out of its flesh, drawn in through Mallory’s blood and the open tear in her palm. She shuddered from head to toe, letting the feeling of the lesser demon’s power wash over her, slowly replenishing what magic she had spent in conjuring and dealing with this creature.
Then, with a low swing of Drachenbane, she snuffed the arcane lanterns and ritual candles out, plunging the workshop into darkness -- save for the building glow of the blade itself.
-
Mallory
- RoH Admin
- Posts: 921
- Joined: Sun Jan 15, 2017 9:25 pm
- Location: The Lyceum or Kabuki Street, most of the time
Re: The Deep Dreaming
There were birds roosting on top of the Dockside Zeppa warehouse, and pigeons in the rafters, coming in through holes in the roof and the gap between the loading bay doors that were chained shut. Since the building’s abandonment several years ago, the holes had grown -- as had the white stains that ran down the aging timbers and splattered on the floor.
So the warehouse’s latest occupants paid little mind when a red-eyed raven swooped in from the rooftop, alighting in the rafters and startling a cluster of pigeons away from its perch.
From there, it had a commanding view of the building’s gloomy interior, lit by three rusty candelabras and thirteen black candles that had bled most of their red wax interior onto the floor. Several figures in simple, ragged clothes slept on wool blankets placed on wooden pallets. A woman in dark robes paced around the edge of the summoning circle, muttering to herself as she passed by different symbols etched in chalk: “Seire, reter, tereph, phedam...”
Another paced his way across a catwalk, overlooking several heavy cages, bent and battered in places, with piles of chewed-on and broken bones scattered between them.
“It’s not coming back,” the woman by the circle said to a man fishing a cigarette from a pocket inside his robes as he passed.
“Maybe you’re saying it wrong,” he shrugged at her, then put up his hands when she gave him a withering glare. “It’s been a long night. Look, I’ll go through the incantation again after I’m done,” he added, gesturing with the cigarette. Each of them muttered crossly at the other as they parted ways, her to her pacing, him to a spot by the wall to smoke in peace.
The red-eyed raven cocked its head at him, watching as he sighed and squared his shoulders against the wall, trying to get comfortable. He set the cigarette between his lips and patted down the pockets under his robes, pulling out a flint and steel. He struck once, then twice more, muttering about the wind as the sparks failed to catch his cigarette alight.
Wood cracked apart as a blade passed through it, through his back and out the front of his belly, fire bursting off of the steel. The cigarette fell from his lips and disintegrated into ash as he began to scream, as flames climbed up the wall around him and rose from the gaping wound in his gut. The woman by the circle pointed at him and cried out, pulling a dagger and a vial of shadows from her robes as she went racing towards him.
She didn’t get far.
What had been a raven fell from the rafters as a massive hound, with a sleek coat of shadow and blazing red eyes. Its massive paws landed on her back, and its jaws were wrapped around her throat and sinking its teeth in before she could scream. She was dead by the time the other cultists fell upon the creature, and as their blades sank into its massive form, it burst apart -- covering them in a mist of blood.
“Break,” hissed a voice through the burning gap in the wall before them, and their skin split and burst wherever the blood had touched them. They cried out and staggered away, one man falling onto his back and clawing at his ruined face. Those still standing began to pull at their friend and head for the exits, the padlocked loading bay doors and a simple side door, but what they heard next stopped them in their tracks --
Two more hounds, barking and clawing at the doors, throwing their massive weight against them as wood splintered with each impact.
The wind rose, and with it the fire roared and grew in size, billowing thick clouds of smoke across the warehouse. They coughed and waved their arms, struggling to clear their vision, as a crimson flash marked the arrival of another being in their midst. Little could be discerned about her through the smoky haze, but as the flames climbed higher up the walls, they could see her silhouetted by the firelight:
A horned figure, regarding them with glowing green eyes narrowed in fury, wielding a flame-wreathed blade that spat embers as it hung at her side.
“Jewell Ravenlock sends her regards.”
So the warehouse’s latest occupants paid little mind when a red-eyed raven swooped in from the rooftop, alighting in the rafters and startling a cluster of pigeons away from its perch.
From there, it had a commanding view of the building’s gloomy interior, lit by three rusty candelabras and thirteen black candles that had bled most of their red wax interior onto the floor. Several figures in simple, ragged clothes slept on wool blankets placed on wooden pallets. A woman in dark robes paced around the edge of the summoning circle, muttering to herself as she passed by different symbols etched in chalk: “Seire, reter, tereph, phedam...”
Another paced his way across a catwalk, overlooking several heavy cages, bent and battered in places, with piles of chewed-on and broken bones scattered between them.
“It’s not coming back,” the woman by the circle said to a man fishing a cigarette from a pocket inside his robes as he passed.
“Maybe you’re saying it wrong,” he shrugged at her, then put up his hands when she gave him a withering glare. “It’s been a long night. Look, I’ll go through the incantation again after I’m done,” he added, gesturing with the cigarette. Each of them muttered crossly at the other as they parted ways, her to her pacing, him to a spot by the wall to smoke in peace.
The red-eyed raven cocked its head at him, watching as he sighed and squared his shoulders against the wall, trying to get comfortable. He set the cigarette between his lips and patted down the pockets under his robes, pulling out a flint and steel. He struck once, then twice more, muttering about the wind as the sparks failed to catch his cigarette alight.
Wood cracked apart as a blade passed through it, through his back and out the front of his belly, fire bursting off of the steel. The cigarette fell from his lips and disintegrated into ash as he began to scream, as flames climbed up the wall around him and rose from the gaping wound in his gut. The woman by the circle pointed at him and cried out, pulling a dagger and a vial of shadows from her robes as she went racing towards him.
She didn’t get far.
What had been a raven fell from the rafters as a massive hound, with a sleek coat of shadow and blazing red eyes. Its massive paws landed on her back, and its jaws were wrapped around her throat and sinking its teeth in before she could scream. She was dead by the time the other cultists fell upon the creature, and as their blades sank into its massive form, it burst apart -- covering them in a mist of blood.
“Break,” hissed a voice through the burning gap in the wall before them, and their skin split and burst wherever the blood had touched them. They cried out and staggered away, one man falling onto his back and clawing at his ruined face. Those still standing began to pull at their friend and head for the exits, the padlocked loading bay doors and a simple side door, but what they heard next stopped them in their tracks --
Two more hounds, barking and clawing at the doors, throwing their massive weight against them as wood splintered with each impact.
The wind rose, and with it the fire roared and grew in size, billowing thick clouds of smoke across the warehouse. They coughed and waved their arms, struggling to clear their vision, as a crimson flash marked the arrival of another being in their midst. Little could be discerned about her through the smoky haze, but as the flames climbed higher up the walls, they could see her silhouetted by the firelight:
A horned figure, regarding them with glowing green eyes narrowed in fury, wielding a flame-wreathed blade that spat embers as it hung at her side.
“Jewell Ravenlock sends her regards.”
-
JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
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- Contact:
Re: The Deep Dreaming
Text to Canaan @ 11:28pm: Sapphire got hurt tonight. She’s in RhyDin General. Should be out of surgery sometime in the next hour or two.
Text to Canaan @ 11:28pm: Do you think you could maybe come by for a bit?
Text to Canaan @ 11:30pm: I’m here alone. Ishmerai isn’t coming.
Text to Jewell @ 11:34pm: Be there in 10.
Text to Canaan @ 11:34pm: I'm sorry to be a bother, but can you bring me something to wear? I am covered in blood and I'm going to be here a while
Text to Jewell @ 11:35pm: Can do. I'll bring some of Sal's coffee, too.
Text to Canaan @ 11:36pm: Thank you x3
*****
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 11:32pm: Hey Sami, this is Jewell
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 11:32pm: Hate to text you this but Sapphire got hurt tonight. She’s at RhyDin General. They said they hope to be out of surgery in the next hour or two.
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 11:33pm: You’re welcome to come by tonight but we’ll be here a few days. She should be okay. Just wanted to make sure you knew.
Text from Sami to Sapphire's phone @ 11:55 pm: Oh my gosh. I'm on my way. I should make it before she's out of surgery.
Text from Sami to Sapphire's phone @ 11:56 pm: Let me know if you need me to pick up anything on my way.
Text from Sami to Sapphire's phone @ 11:58 pm: And thank you so much for telling me.
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 12:02am: Let me know when you’re here. Don’t know if they’ll let us know what her room number is before then.
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 12:03am: And a friend brought some clothes for me just now, so I think I’m good
((Texting conversations cross-posted from this thread and written collaboratively with Canaan and Samiyah!))
Text to Canaan @ 11:28pm: Do you think you could maybe come by for a bit?
Text to Canaan @ 11:30pm: I’m here alone. Ishmerai isn’t coming.
Text to Jewell @ 11:34pm: Be there in 10.
Text to Canaan @ 11:34pm: I'm sorry to be a bother, but can you bring me something to wear? I am covered in blood and I'm going to be here a while
Text to Jewell @ 11:35pm: Can do. I'll bring some of Sal's coffee, too.
Text to Canaan @ 11:36pm: Thank you x3
*****
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 11:32pm: Hey Sami, this is Jewell
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 11:32pm: Hate to text you this but Sapphire got hurt tonight. She’s at RhyDin General. They said they hope to be out of surgery in the next hour or two.
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 11:33pm: You’re welcome to come by tonight but we’ll be here a few days. She should be okay. Just wanted to make sure you knew.
Text from Sami to Sapphire's phone @ 11:55 pm: Oh my gosh. I'm on my way. I should make it before she's out of surgery.
Text from Sami to Sapphire's phone @ 11:56 pm: Let me know if you need me to pick up anything on my way.
Text from Sami to Sapphire's phone @ 11:58 pm: And thank you so much for telling me.
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 12:02am: Let me know when you’re here. Don’t know if they’ll let us know what her room number is before then.
Text from Sapphire’s phone to Sami 2.0 @ 12:03am: And a friend brought some clothes for me just now, so I think I’m good
((Texting conversations cross-posted from this thread and written collaboratively with Canaan and Samiyah!))
Re: The Deep Dreaming
My sister was badly hurt. You might be interested in speaking with her mother.
Luka had received the text from Samiyah Capistrano before his first lecture of the day and it had eaten at the corners of his mind through both of his classes. He’d known and worked with Sami for three years. She was an agent for the Rhovnik Foundation and he’d done consulting work for them in the past. If she thought he would be interested in her sister’s injury, he was certain that he would be.
He called Mina between classes to fill her in on the text exchange. It was the middle of the afternoon by the time they stood in an elevator at RhyDin General, taking it up to the fourth floor where the long-term care and recovery wing was located. Mina gravitated closer to Luka’s side as the three floors dinged by; the sterile smell of the hospital was burning her nose while the sheer amount of hurt and misery was overwhelming to her other senses. This place was supposed to be a house of healing, but it seemed more like a place of sickness and death.
When they got off on the fourth floor, Luka had to keep tugging her along. It was a struggle to keep Mina from stopping at every room they passed. “There’s just so many people hurting,” and it hurt her to see it.
The Empress was waiting in the doorway of room 416 for them, almost as if she knew they were on their way. She had changed out of her sparkly, party clothes at some point overnight, but even in a pair of men’s sweatpants and a sweatshirt far too big for her (courtesy of Canaan), and with the marks of a sleepless night under her eyes, she was striking. “Professor Gaumond?” she stepped forward with a pretty, glamoured smile. “Sami didn’t say you were so good looking. Or that you were bringing a friend.”
“This is Mina Ardelean,” Luka said politely and a little uneasily. He’d questioned the plan a dozen times on the way over. “I am sorry to be barging in here at a time like this.”
“Quite all right,” she nodded to Mina in greeting as if she had never seen her before. “Sami said you’re interested in demons. I happened to fight one last night, and far be it from me to put off being questioned by a handsome man. Why don’t you both come into the room a moment? My daughter is fairly sedated still but I’d rather not be out of sight.”
Jewell didn’t wait for a response before stepping back into the hospital room. Mina followed after a glance at Luka. Inside was a room spacious enough for a hotel suite with two chairs and a small couch off to the left and a hospital bed with a petite blue haired young woman connected to all sorts of machines to the right.
The Empress slouched in the chair closest to Sapphire’s bed, exhausted but watching both of them sharply. “You both stink like the fae.”
Luka kept his distance from the girl. She was a vulnerable young woman and he doubted she would want to be seen in such a state. He sunk to a seat on the edge of the couch, clasping his hands together over his knees. “It is our rings, probably. We won’t keep you long. We were hoping you could tell us whatever you remember about the demon you killed.”
Mina did not take a seat and Jewell watched her a moment as she stood near Luka with her attention clearly on Sapphire more often than not before the faerie looked to the young professor. “Sure thing. I don’t know what good it’ll do you though.” She rattled off the details like game statistics, “Lesser demon. Strong enough to need more than one person to summon it. He was called He Who Tears and Destroys. And I pretty much tore him apart before kicking his ass back to the other side.”
His thumb rolled over his knuckles. It wasn’t one that rang a bell to him. “Any idea of any group with enough people to summon it?”
She smiled, “Oh, I have an idea. But you’re not likely to find them now.”
That drew Mina’s attention back to the conversation and she glanced at Luka before asking, “Why not?”
Jewell straightened in her seat, stretching. “From what I understand, they’ve met with a grave accident recently. Very recently.” Word had come in from Mallory just a few hours after the pair had met outside the hospital.
The writing on the wall was clear to him. She’d already eliminated the threat. Unfortunately, he was afraid it was only a finger of a larger threat. Either way, this was now a dead end. He exhaled heavily before rising to his feet. “Thank you for your time. I’m glad your daughter survived the attack.”
“Certainly, Professor.” She stood and offered Luka her hand with that same glamoured smile she had greeted him with, “I’d like to say I’m sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused you, but I’m not. Perhaps though I can be of some help to you personally some other time.”
Mina had missed any insinuation in Jewell’s words and smile that would have had her bristling with jealousy. Instead, once it was clear that they had reached a dead end in their search, she had given up all pretense of being interested in the conversation and had gravitated towards Sapphire. She could feel the faerie watching her, but she didn’t care. She also didn’t ask for permission before reaching out to touch Sapphire’s arm lightly and whispering something to her.
Jewell didn’t stop her either. She just watched, passive, noting the transfer of energy between the two and how Mina’s cheeks had lost their natural rosy touch by the time she stepped back and looked at them. “She’s going to be just fine. She’s so strong, there will barely be a scratch on her.” It sounded more like a prophecy than an empty reassurance or hope, and it was all Mina said before she stepped out of the room.
Jewell looked between Sapphire in the bed, who suddenly seemed to be breathing easier, and the doorway. “Interesting girl you’ve got there, Professor.”
He was irritated by the situation and the dead end. But the woman’s daughter was lying in a hospital bed so he had held his tongue. That comment, though, wore through his polite manners and he quirked a hint of a brow. It suggested a power dynamic that didn’t quite sit right with him. He paused long enough to slide a glance to Jewell. “I’ve got? Oh, no. I’m just her assistant.”
“Take care.” With that, he stepped out of the room, lengthening his stride to catch up with Mina in a step or two.
The way she took his arm when he came up alongside her was natural and necessary. She felt light headed, her limbs heavy. The young woman had been in bad shape, but Mina was sure she’d be fine now. “Where do we go from here?”
“Food first,” he murmured, feeling a taste of her faintness. “And then some research into this demon, I think.”
“Hopefully she didn’t destroy all that too.”
((Co-written between the wonderful Luka Gaumond, Mina, and Jewell))
Luka had received the text from Samiyah Capistrano before his first lecture of the day and it had eaten at the corners of his mind through both of his classes. He’d known and worked with Sami for three years. She was an agent for the Rhovnik Foundation and he’d done consulting work for them in the past. If she thought he would be interested in her sister’s injury, he was certain that he would be.
He called Mina between classes to fill her in on the text exchange. It was the middle of the afternoon by the time they stood in an elevator at RhyDin General, taking it up to the fourth floor where the long-term care and recovery wing was located. Mina gravitated closer to Luka’s side as the three floors dinged by; the sterile smell of the hospital was burning her nose while the sheer amount of hurt and misery was overwhelming to her other senses. This place was supposed to be a house of healing, but it seemed more like a place of sickness and death.
When they got off on the fourth floor, Luka had to keep tugging her along. It was a struggle to keep Mina from stopping at every room they passed. “There’s just so many people hurting,” and it hurt her to see it.
The Empress was waiting in the doorway of room 416 for them, almost as if she knew they were on their way. She had changed out of her sparkly, party clothes at some point overnight, but even in a pair of men’s sweatpants and a sweatshirt far too big for her (courtesy of Canaan), and with the marks of a sleepless night under her eyes, she was striking. “Professor Gaumond?” she stepped forward with a pretty, glamoured smile. “Sami didn’t say you were so good looking. Or that you were bringing a friend.”
“This is Mina Ardelean,” Luka said politely and a little uneasily. He’d questioned the plan a dozen times on the way over. “I am sorry to be barging in here at a time like this.”
“Quite all right,” she nodded to Mina in greeting as if she had never seen her before. “Sami said you’re interested in demons. I happened to fight one last night, and far be it from me to put off being questioned by a handsome man. Why don’t you both come into the room a moment? My daughter is fairly sedated still but I’d rather not be out of sight.”
Jewell didn’t wait for a response before stepping back into the hospital room. Mina followed after a glance at Luka. Inside was a room spacious enough for a hotel suite with two chairs and a small couch off to the left and a hospital bed with a petite blue haired young woman connected to all sorts of machines to the right.
The Empress slouched in the chair closest to Sapphire’s bed, exhausted but watching both of them sharply. “You both stink like the fae.”
Luka kept his distance from the girl. She was a vulnerable young woman and he doubted she would want to be seen in such a state. He sunk to a seat on the edge of the couch, clasping his hands together over his knees. “It is our rings, probably. We won’t keep you long. We were hoping you could tell us whatever you remember about the demon you killed.”
Mina did not take a seat and Jewell watched her a moment as she stood near Luka with her attention clearly on Sapphire more often than not before the faerie looked to the young professor. “Sure thing. I don’t know what good it’ll do you though.” She rattled off the details like game statistics, “Lesser demon. Strong enough to need more than one person to summon it. He was called He Who Tears and Destroys. And I pretty much tore him apart before kicking his ass back to the other side.”
His thumb rolled over his knuckles. It wasn’t one that rang a bell to him. “Any idea of any group with enough people to summon it?”
She smiled, “Oh, I have an idea. But you’re not likely to find them now.”
That drew Mina’s attention back to the conversation and she glanced at Luka before asking, “Why not?”
Jewell straightened in her seat, stretching. “From what I understand, they’ve met with a grave accident recently. Very recently.” Word had come in from Mallory just a few hours after the pair had met outside the hospital.
The writing on the wall was clear to him. She’d already eliminated the threat. Unfortunately, he was afraid it was only a finger of a larger threat. Either way, this was now a dead end. He exhaled heavily before rising to his feet. “Thank you for your time. I’m glad your daughter survived the attack.”
“Certainly, Professor.” She stood and offered Luka her hand with that same glamoured smile she had greeted him with, “I’d like to say I’m sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused you, but I’m not. Perhaps though I can be of some help to you personally some other time.”
Mina had missed any insinuation in Jewell’s words and smile that would have had her bristling with jealousy. Instead, once it was clear that they had reached a dead end in their search, she had given up all pretense of being interested in the conversation and had gravitated towards Sapphire. She could feel the faerie watching her, but she didn’t care. She also didn’t ask for permission before reaching out to touch Sapphire’s arm lightly and whispering something to her.
Jewell didn’t stop her either. She just watched, passive, noting the transfer of energy between the two and how Mina’s cheeks had lost their natural rosy touch by the time she stepped back and looked at them. “She’s going to be just fine. She’s so strong, there will barely be a scratch on her.” It sounded more like a prophecy than an empty reassurance or hope, and it was all Mina said before she stepped out of the room.
Jewell looked between Sapphire in the bed, who suddenly seemed to be breathing easier, and the doorway. “Interesting girl you’ve got there, Professor.”
He was irritated by the situation and the dead end. But the woman’s daughter was lying in a hospital bed so he had held his tongue. That comment, though, wore through his polite manners and he quirked a hint of a brow. It suggested a power dynamic that didn’t quite sit right with him. He paused long enough to slide a glance to Jewell. “I’ve got? Oh, no. I’m just her assistant.”
“Take care.” With that, he stepped out of the room, lengthening his stride to catch up with Mina in a step or two.
The way she took his arm when he came up alongside her was natural and necessary. She felt light headed, her limbs heavy. The young woman had been in bad shape, but Mina was sure she’d be fine now. “Where do we go from here?”
“Food first,” he murmured, feeling a taste of her faintness. “And then some research into this demon, I think.”
“Hopefully she didn’t destroy all that too.”
((Co-written between the wonderful Luka Gaumond, Mina, and Jewell))
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
Re: The Deep Dreaming
When the doctors checked on Sapphire later Wednesday afternoon and again on Thursday morning, they left the hospital suite each time, shaking their heads in amazement and remarking on how quickly she was recovering. They were able to remove the breathing tube and unhook several machines by Thursday afternoon. By Friday morning, they had adjusted all their expectations, assuring Jewell that her daughter would eventually make a full recovery and be just fine with a little bit of time.
She’s going to be just fine.
That phrase stuck in her mind on repeat as the Empress made some joke about the good genes Sapphire had clearly inherited from both parents and thanked the doctors, genuinely relieved for their latest report. Then she sat down to write out a note on a piece of prescription paper she had received from a nurse practitioner with nothing more than a request and a pretty smile touched by glamour.
She had also taken the woman’s pen.
Ms. Mina Ardelean (Champion of the Fae and Current Holder of the Panther’s Claw) and Assistant,
I thought you would like to know that my daughter Sapphire is doing much better than expected. Your visit seems to have boosted her spirits immensely.
Feel free to stop by again or give me a call some time if you’d like.
xoxo The Empress
Jewell added her personal cell phone number at the bottom of the note before dispatching it with Janel, one of the few remaining House of Summer girls. “Find Professor Luka Gaumond for me and hand this to him directly. I hear he’s in New Haven somewhere, so he shouldn’t be difficult to find. If he is, you may give it to Ms. Mina Ardelean. I hear she’s often in the marketplace. I’d like one of them to have it as soon as possible.”
“You got it Empress. They dangerous?”
“Yes,” she replied unhesitatingly, sure of that fact after she had done a little bit of digging on the two. Jewell’s empire was still extensive enough to gather information on two champions of the Uremi. “But they shouldn’t do you any harm so don’t waste time heading back home for more weapons.”
“Got it.” The young woman tucked the note safely away in her pocket. She wouldn’t dare read it, but she couldn’t help but ask, “These two owe you money or something?”
“No,” Jewell frowned slightly. “I’m afraid I owe them.”
She’s going to be just fine.
That phrase stuck in her mind on repeat as the Empress made some joke about the good genes Sapphire had clearly inherited from both parents and thanked the doctors, genuinely relieved for their latest report. Then she sat down to write out a note on a piece of prescription paper she had received from a nurse practitioner with nothing more than a request and a pretty smile touched by glamour.
She had also taken the woman’s pen.
Ms. Mina Ardelean (Champion of the Fae and Current Holder of the Panther’s Claw) and Assistant,
I thought you would like to know that my daughter Sapphire is doing much better than expected. Your visit seems to have boosted her spirits immensely.
Feel free to stop by again or give me a call some time if you’d like.
xoxo The Empress
Jewell added her personal cell phone number at the bottom of the note before dispatching it with Janel, one of the few remaining House of Summer girls. “Find Professor Luka Gaumond for me and hand this to him directly. I hear he’s in New Haven somewhere, so he shouldn’t be difficult to find. If he is, you may give it to Ms. Mina Ardelean. I hear she’s often in the marketplace. I’d like one of them to have it as soon as possible.”
“You got it Empress. They dangerous?”
“Yes,” she replied unhesitatingly, sure of that fact after she had done a little bit of digging on the two. Jewell’s empire was still extensive enough to gather information on two champions of the Uremi. “But they shouldn’t do you any harm so don’t waste time heading back home for more weapons.”
“Got it.” The young woman tucked the note safely away in her pocket. She wouldn’t dare read it, but she couldn’t help but ask, “These two owe you money or something?”
“No,” Jewell frowned slightly. “I’m afraid I owe them.”
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Sapphire Ravenlock
- Adventurer
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Thu Sep 05, 2013 9:30 pm
- Location: RhyDin
Re: The Deep Dreaming
“Dad was never bad about it, cept he totally called me Sami once or twice. She and I laughed about it after. Mom though, mom has always been bad about it when she’s stressed. ‘Amanda… Devyn… Eva-Jade. You there! Whatever the hell your name is!’” She imitated her mother, gesturing at Jewell carefully so she didn’t tug her picc line out again. Her laughter at her own antics was more of a soft wheeze, her lungs still healing.
Jewell shook her head, smirking, “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sapphire shifted in her hospital bed, trying to get comfortable. It was near impossible these days. Her gesturing had still pulled at the picc line a little and it stung. She was also feeling the now normal afternoon sleepiness come over her as the latest round of meds in the IV started to work their way through her system, but she wasn’t ready to pass out just yet. Jewell had given her the play-by-play of Mallory’s fight in the Overlord match from last night and then they had diverged onto the topic of Harris and home since the Blue One had dragged himself from Adenna for the match and a waffle date with Jewell. “I mean, it used to upset me a lot but I got used to it after a while. I know she didn’t mean to hurt my feelings by it. At least you’ve only done it that one time.”
That seemed to bring the older faerie up short in bemused confusion. “What?”
“Don’t you remember?” Sapphire covered a yawn. “You called me Amanda that time when we were packing up your townhouse. I ran out… Ishmerai found me in the fight club the next evening?”
Jewell’s brow was furrowed as she shook her head. “Why would I call you Amanda?”
“I don’t know… because I look just like her?”
“Do you? I’ve never seen a picture of her.”
The room was starting to feel oddly warm, and Sapphire struggled to sit up better. “What…”
“I’ve only heard about Amanda from you, Little Blue and you've never brought me a picture to see.”
“I…” Sapphire rubbed the heel of her palm into her temple as her head started to throb. This was wrong. This was really wrong. “What are you talking about, mama? Don’t mess with me like that. Amanda was your first born. Of course you know what she looked like.”
“Honey, we’ve been over this a bunch of times before.” Jewell sounded concerned. “I’ve never had any kids.”
“Yes you did.”
“Sapphire, I think I would remember having kids. You're getting me confused with your mom.”
“No, that’s not right. Your past is the same as my mom’s. It’s the same! You had four kids and Auntie Cher’s triplets. It only diverged when you came back from Faerie without them and starting screwing Harris instead of Kal. That’s the difference.”
“Sapphire,” there was a warning in Jewell’s tone. She was unhappy about how excited the young woman was getting. “Your mother had children and lost them to Faerie. I didn’t. I’ve… I’ve been incapable of having kids since I was a teenager. You know that. That’s why I never got pregnant with you but your mom was able to. When I miscarried back home, that was it for me.”
“No.” She shook her head. The room felt like it was spinning. None of this was right. “No, no no! Mom had me because dad had PathFinder. We talked about this on the beach that time! But you both had four kids other than me. You did!”
“Little Blue, you’re not making any sense and you’re getting upset. I told that nurse to switch your painkillers,” she grumbled. “Do you want me to go talk to her about getting you a sedative tonight?” She was already standing up and moving towards the door.
“NO!” Sapphire slammed her hand down on her thigh and winced. “Damnit! You’re the one not making any sense. Not me.”
“That’s it.” Jewell had paused at her outburst but she started for the door again. “I’m going to get the nurse.”
“Stop it. I don’t want the fucking nurse. Just… just give me my phone.” She tried reaching for it but everything still hurt too much and it was just out of reach. Mother of Nature, where the hell was Ishmerai when she needed him? Since the fae knight was even more unreachable than her phone, she wanted the next best thing. Jewell eyed her a moment before moving towards the bed and placing the device within range. Sapphire grabbed it, promptly ignoring Jewell for the next several minutes and texting Mallory. The Empress removed herself to her chair in the corner and just watched her quietly, nervously.
Text to Mallory: Hey, J said you did an awesome job last night. sorry I missed it.
Text to Mallory: She also said you went out with her and Harris last night after. did you notice anything weird about her? Because she’s saying all sorts of crazy shit today and acting like it’s me on painkillers
Text to Mallory: Did she get hit on the head when you were out or something?
Text to Sapphire: no I didn’t notice anything. didn’t seem like she was disoriented or in a weird headspace, just hammed it up with Harris. what’d you notice?
Text to Mallory: that sounds like her. she digs him in this time too no matter what she says
Text to Mallory: but she totally just got all weird when I mentioned Amanda and acted like she'd never had kids
Text to Mallory: claimed she's been infertile since she was a teen. so I don't know if I'm on really good painkillers and having a bad trip or something or did I get knocked into an alt timeline when that demon smacked the shit out of me?
Text to Sapphire: when’s the last time you remember her talking about her kids? I’m only kinda aware of them — old articles from when she “died”
Text to Mallory: Shoot, idk. May have been before the heart thing. you scrambler her brain then too?
Text to Mallory: kidding. though maybe that explains it. we don't talk about them often but they came up and she got really weird
Text to Mallory: guess I won't push it right now though. She's giving me evil looks as I text you anyway
Text to Mallory: thx anyway xoxo bring me alcohol if you can next time you visit. or a dirty magazine. something to liven this place up a bit
Text to Sapphire: got a calendar with shirtless men playing rugby and a bottle of rakia with your name on it friendo <3
When she was done texting, she looked up to find Jewell still watching her. She looked scared. “Sapphire…”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, sure that Jewell must be convinced that she was having a nervous breakdown or some kind of post-concussive episode. “My head is all spinny tonight. It must be the painkillers like you said.”
“Oh… yeah.” Jewell relaxed visibly at this admission. “Want me to go see what’s for dinner before you fall asleep? Maybe it’ll help take the edge off.”
“Sure. That’d be great. Maybe they’ll have that red velvet cake again.”
Jewell was all smiles as she got up and headed for the door, “Mmm yum. That stuff is too good!” Apparently, she was able to brush off the conversation and forget about it.
Sapphire would not forget.
((Texting conversation co-written with Mallory and cross-posted here!))
Jewell shook her head, smirking, “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sapphire shifted in her hospital bed, trying to get comfortable. It was near impossible these days. Her gesturing had still pulled at the picc line a little and it stung. She was also feeling the now normal afternoon sleepiness come over her as the latest round of meds in the IV started to work their way through her system, but she wasn’t ready to pass out just yet. Jewell had given her the play-by-play of Mallory’s fight in the Overlord match from last night and then they had diverged onto the topic of Harris and home since the Blue One had dragged himself from Adenna for the match and a waffle date with Jewell. “I mean, it used to upset me a lot but I got used to it after a while. I know she didn’t mean to hurt my feelings by it. At least you’ve only done it that one time.”
That seemed to bring the older faerie up short in bemused confusion. “What?”
“Don’t you remember?” Sapphire covered a yawn. “You called me Amanda that time when we were packing up your townhouse. I ran out… Ishmerai found me in the fight club the next evening?”
Jewell’s brow was furrowed as she shook her head. “Why would I call you Amanda?”
“I don’t know… because I look just like her?”
“Do you? I’ve never seen a picture of her.”
The room was starting to feel oddly warm, and Sapphire struggled to sit up better. “What…”
“I’ve only heard about Amanda from you, Little Blue and you've never brought me a picture to see.”
“I…” Sapphire rubbed the heel of her palm into her temple as her head started to throb. This was wrong. This was really wrong. “What are you talking about, mama? Don’t mess with me like that. Amanda was your first born. Of course you know what she looked like.”
“Honey, we’ve been over this a bunch of times before.” Jewell sounded concerned. “I’ve never had any kids.”
“Yes you did.”
“Sapphire, I think I would remember having kids. You're getting me confused with your mom.”
“No, that’s not right. Your past is the same as my mom’s. It’s the same! You had four kids and Auntie Cher’s triplets. It only diverged when you came back from Faerie without them and starting screwing Harris instead of Kal. That’s the difference.”
“Sapphire,” there was a warning in Jewell’s tone. She was unhappy about how excited the young woman was getting. “Your mother had children and lost them to Faerie. I didn’t. I’ve… I’ve been incapable of having kids since I was a teenager. You know that. That’s why I never got pregnant with you but your mom was able to. When I miscarried back home, that was it for me.”
“No.” She shook her head. The room felt like it was spinning. None of this was right. “No, no no! Mom had me because dad had PathFinder. We talked about this on the beach that time! But you both had four kids other than me. You did!”
“Little Blue, you’re not making any sense and you’re getting upset. I told that nurse to switch your painkillers,” she grumbled. “Do you want me to go talk to her about getting you a sedative tonight?” She was already standing up and moving towards the door.
“NO!” Sapphire slammed her hand down on her thigh and winced. “Damnit! You’re the one not making any sense. Not me.”
“That’s it.” Jewell had paused at her outburst but she started for the door again. “I’m going to get the nurse.”
“Stop it. I don’t want the fucking nurse. Just… just give me my phone.” She tried reaching for it but everything still hurt too much and it was just out of reach. Mother of Nature, where the hell was Ishmerai when she needed him? Since the fae knight was even more unreachable than her phone, she wanted the next best thing. Jewell eyed her a moment before moving towards the bed and placing the device within range. Sapphire grabbed it, promptly ignoring Jewell for the next several minutes and texting Mallory. The Empress removed herself to her chair in the corner and just watched her quietly, nervously.
Text to Mallory: Hey, J said you did an awesome job last night. sorry I missed it.
Text to Mallory: She also said you went out with her and Harris last night after. did you notice anything weird about her? Because she’s saying all sorts of crazy shit today and acting like it’s me on painkillers
Text to Mallory: Did she get hit on the head when you were out or something?
Text to Sapphire: no I didn’t notice anything. didn’t seem like she was disoriented or in a weird headspace, just hammed it up with Harris. what’d you notice?
Text to Mallory: that sounds like her. she digs him in this time too no matter what she says
Text to Mallory: but she totally just got all weird when I mentioned Amanda and acted like she'd never had kids
Text to Mallory: claimed she's been infertile since she was a teen. so I don't know if I'm on really good painkillers and having a bad trip or something or did I get knocked into an alt timeline when that demon smacked the shit out of me?
Text to Sapphire: when’s the last time you remember her talking about her kids? I’m only kinda aware of them — old articles from when she “died”
Text to Mallory: Shoot, idk. May have been before the heart thing. you scrambler her brain then too?
Text to Mallory: kidding. though maybe that explains it. we don't talk about them often but they came up and she got really weird
Text to Mallory: guess I won't push it right now though. She's giving me evil looks as I text you anyway
Text to Mallory: thx anyway xoxo bring me alcohol if you can next time you visit. or a dirty magazine. something to liven this place up a bit
Text to Sapphire: got a calendar with shirtless men playing rugby and a bottle of rakia with your name on it friendo <3
When she was done texting, she looked up to find Jewell still watching her. She looked scared. “Sapphire…”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, sure that Jewell must be convinced that she was having a nervous breakdown or some kind of post-concussive episode. “My head is all spinny tonight. It must be the painkillers like you said.”
“Oh… yeah.” Jewell relaxed visibly at this admission. “Want me to go see what’s for dinner before you fall asleep? Maybe it’ll help take the edge off.”
“Sure. That’d be great. Maybe they’ll have that red velvet cake again.”
Jewell was all smiles as she got up and headed for the door, “Mmm yum. That stuff is too good!” Apparently, she was able to brush off the conversation and forget about it.
Sapphire would not forget.
((Texting conversation co-written with Mallory and cross-posted here!))
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Sapphire Ravenlock
- Adventurer
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Thu Sep 05, 2013 9:30 pm
- Location: RhyDin
Re: The Deep Dreaming
Sapphire let the matter of Jewell’s other children drop for a few days, but this morning, Jewell was her captive. Sal had stabbed her in the foot last night during a fight in the Outback, and The Empress was curled up on the hospital bed-chair, not eager to move. They were also starting to wean Sapphire off the heavier pain killers, so her head was clear enough to have this conversation.
“So mama, remind me of something.”
Jewell uncurled herself from around Cane’s sweatshirt. She had been using it like both a pillow and teddy bear while she rested for a few minutes, but she sat up now. “Sure kid, what’s up?”
“If you never had children, why did you leave Stephen Kidd and go to Faerie?”
She frowned. “Sapphire…”
“Humor me. Please? I don’t know if it’s getting hurt and almost dying or what, but everything is all confused in my head.”
The sympathy card worked like a charm. Jewell settled right back down, folding the sweatshirt against her chest. “Fine. My aunt, Conventina, threatened to glamour Stephen and keep him for herself. She also threatened many of my friends and family. And she burned down my house out of spite. So I went to Faerie to serve the Ta-Neers with every intention of taking them down when and if I could.”
“And then you eventually killed Conventina?”
“Mmhm. She tried to have me killed first, actually. Mountain trolls,” Jewell shook her head. “She had put a curse upon my grandmother too, her own mother. And when the Council for Preternatural Activities came to me and asked discreetly if I would take care of the problem, because Conventina was really becoming a problem beyond our little slice of Faerie, I said yes. The woman was a treacherous hag who exploited me mercilessly for years.”
“Right.” Sapphire was slowly nodding along, but something was eating away at her gut the longer Jewell spoke. “And how did you end up meeting Ishmerai? Like…” she was trying to word this carefully so as not to lead Jewell along or annoy her, “why were you in his land again?”
“It was a mission for my grandmother after Conventina had been dealt with. A peace mission, so I don’t know why she thought it was a good idea to send me.” The Empress grinned a bit at the memory. “I guess I can be charming sometimes. But there was a lot of instability in his area and they were trade partners with us, so she needed someone she could trust to be diplomatic but also dangerous if the need arose. Unfortunately, by the time I got there there was already a revolution and most of our partners were dead.”
This had been one of her favorite stories growing up, but it was all wrong this time. “And you found Ishmerai in the dungeon?” she asked uncertainty.
“Yes and I helped him escape, which saved his life.”
They covered a few other topics, including why Jewell had been so depressed a few years back.
“That was a tough few years in general, Sapphire. When they took my magic from me… it was like someone had hollowed me out inside. I was empty. And I thought I could appeal to the High Court to reverse their decision, but it didn’t work. To be back in RhyDin like that, a shadow of my former self surrounded by such familiar sights? Wouldn’t you have been depressed too?”
“I suppose so,” Sapphire reluctantly agreed. Her stomach was already in knots before she asked the most important question: “Why did you sell your True Name to get your magic back? You had already killed Conventina; what had Muirenn ever done to you?”
“It was about vengeance and honor, Sapphire. Muirenn had worked alongside Conventina all those years to keep me down, to manipulate me. Then she maneuvered things to take my magic away, and even that didn’t satisfy her. It was all a game for the throne. I was always going to be standing in her way no matter what happened, so it was either die or make sure she died. And I’m a survivor, Sapphire. I’ll always do what I need to make sure I survive. Me and the people I love.”
Sapphire nodded. “Right. I know that.” She had seen Jewell prove that to be true. All of her answers and stories sounded true. She let her head fall back on her pillow and stared out the window, thinking over everything Jewell had said. And about the things she hadn’t said.
She hadn’t mentioned her children once.
“So mama, remind me of something.”
Jewell uncurled herself from around Cane’s sweatshirt. She had been using it like both a pillow and teddy bear while she rested for a few minutes, but she sat up now. “Sure kid, what’s up?”
“If you never had children, why did you leave Stephen Kidd and go to Faerie?”
She frowned. “Sapphire…”
“Humor me. Please? I don’t know if it’s getting hurt and almost dying or what, but everything is all confused in my head.”
The sympathy card worked like a charm. Jewell settled right back down, folding the sweatshirt against her chest. “Fine. My aunt, Conventina, threatened to glamour Stephen and keep him for herself. She also threatened many of my friends and family. And she burned down my house out of spite. So I went to Faerie to serve the Ta-Neers with every intention of taking them down when and if I could.”
“And then you eventually killed Conventina?”
“Mmhm. She tried to have me killed first, actually. Mountain trolls,” Jewell shook her head. “She had put a curse upon my grandmother too, her own mother. And when the Council for Preternatural Activities came to me and asked discreetly if I would take care of the problem, because Conventina was really becoming a problem beyond our little slice of Faerie, I said yes. The woman was a treacherous hag who exploited me mercilessly for years.”
“Right.” Sapphire was slowly nodding along, but something was eating away at her gut the longer Jewell spoke. “And how did you end up meeting Ishmerai? Like…” she was trying to word this carefully so as not to lead Jewell along or annoy her, “why were you in his land again?”
“It was a mission for my grandmother after Conventina had been dealt with. A peace mission, so I don’t know why she thought it was a good idea to send me.” The Empress grinned a bit at the memory. “I guess I can be charming sometimes. But there was a lot of instability in his area and they were trade partners with us, so she needed someone she could trust to be diplomatic but also dangerous if the need arose. Unfortunately, by the time I got there there was already a revolution and most of our partners were dead.”
This had been one of her favorite stories growing up, but it was all wrong this time. “And you found Ishmerai in the dungeon?” she asked uncertainty.
“Yes and I helped him escape, which saved his life.”
They covered a few other topics, including why Jewell had been so depressed a few years back.
“That was a tough few years in general, Sapphire. When they took my magic from me… it was like someone had hollowed me out inside. I was empty. And I thought I could appeal to the High Court to reverse their decision, but it didn’t work. To be back in RhyDin like that, a shadow of my former self surrounded by such familiar sights? Wouldn’t you have been depressed too?”
“I suppose so,” Sapphire reluctantly agreed. Her stomach was already in knots before she asked the most important question: “Why did you sell your True Name to get your magic back? You had already killed Conventina; what had Muirenn ever done to you?”
“It was about vengeance and honor, Sapphire. Muirenn had worked alongside Conventina all those years to keep me down, to manipulate me. Then she maneuvered things to take my magic away, and even that didn’t satisfy her. It was all a game for the throne. I was always going to be standing in her way no matter what happened, so it was either die or make sure she died. And I’m a survivor, Sapphire. I’ll always do what I need to make sure I survive. Me and the people I love.”
Sapphire nodded. “Right. I know that.” She had seen Jewell prove that to be true. All of her answers and stories sounded true. She let her head fall back on her pillow and stared out the window, thinking over everything Jewell had said. And about the things she hadn’t said.
She hadn’t mentioned her children once.
-
Sapphire Ravenlock
- Adventurer
- Posts: 71
- Joined: Thu Sep 05, 2013 9:30 pm
- Location: RhyDin
Re: The Deep Dreaming
“Hey Is! I’ll be ready in a minute. I just have to find my sneakers. They’re not in that pile it seems,” she gestured to the messy pile of shoes that took up a good part of her foyer. Ishmerai used to constantly complain about them, so Jewell had decided to leave them there to spite the fae knight even though he couldn’t see them. She liked to think that he knew they were there. “Sapphire is on the couch in the living room, where she will stay,” Jewell raised her voice at the end before flashing a grin at her friend and dashing up the stairs to locate her sneakers.
Isuelt smirked and chuckled as Jewell vacated the foyer, offering a “Take your time!” before the Empress was completely out of sight. She then took a minute to saunter in to see the couch-dweller. Isuelt leaned against the door jamb, her hands in the pockets of her jogging pants. She grinned at Sapphire, “How are things, killer?” She would be perpetually impressed by Sapphire’s ability to handle herself in a fight after she had seen the young woman in action last year.
The young, blue-haired woman was healing quicker than anyone expected, but she was still confined to the couch for good reason. She pushed herself up, adjusting a pillow behind her to sit more comfortably, with only a little difficulty, but even that seemed to exhaust her. “Been better,” she grinned. Nothing could make her lose her sense of humor and positive outlook on life at least. “But the doctors all say I’m like some kind of super-healer, so that’s pretty cool as long as they don’t turn me into some genetic experiment.”
“Yeah, well,” Isuelt grinned, “That’s gotta have its upsides, too. I mean, they could turn you into some kind of superhero or something.” She winked at Sapphire, letting her lips slide into a wide smirk. “Then you could go around here kicking everyone’s ass.” She chuckled lightly as her own humor before pushing off of the wall and heading into the room. “You know, you, your mom...your whole family really, you guys constantly surprise me. Your resilience is really, well, pretty amazing.” She paused and regarded the young Sapphire. Isuelt was no fool. She knew that Sapphire possessed the same fire that her mother had and the same prowess in battle. In fact, it was quite possible that Sapphire beheld the gift of a natural warrior, even more than Jewell. But that was just Isuelt looking with her Scathachian-trained eyes. “Still, best to take it easy and do what they tell you to do, yeah?”
“Yeah yeah,” she sighed out. “I’m trying. It gets a bit boring after a while, though. But um… speaking of mom.” Sapphire craned her head to check the hallway even though she could still hear Jewell upstairs along with the occasional thunk of a shoe being thrown over her shoulder. Satisfied, she looked back at Issy. “Weird question but bare with me, I got knocked on the head. You knew my mom’s kids, right? Like… you both were friends back then before everything went to hell in Faerie?”
Observing Sapphire’s clandestine approach to the question, Isuelt tread lightly. “Yes.” She quieted the voices in her head just long enough to think back to Jewell’s children. The children from so long ago that were taken from her. Isuelt didn’t necessarily know the entire story, for the politics in Faerie were complicated, to put it mildly. But she did remember their gorgeous shining faces and their lovely little grins.
“Oh thank Nature!” Sapphire gushed out with a sigh. “I was starting to think I was going crazy. Look--” She cast another glance towards the stairs, thinking she heard something, before rushing her question out, “Something weird is going on. When’s the last time you heard mom mention them?”
“Uhm...well…” Isuelt was perplexed by Sapphire’s obvious relief. “I don’t know…I guess it’s been a while. But, she really didn’t talk about them all that much.” She thought for a moment, “I always supposed it was because it was too painful, but…” She paused, studying Sapphire, “Now I’m not so sure. Why? What are you thinking? What’s wrong with Jewell?” Isuelt was in mid-jump over the proverbial gun. “She’s not talking about them? Not remembering them?” After all, Jewell had been through some fairly traumatic stuff over the last few years. Psychologically, that had to take a toll on a person. Even a fae.
Sapphire shook her head, “She doesn’t remember them. She got all squirrely on me the other day, insisted she had never had children. Acted like I was losing my mind.” She bit at the inside of her cheek, worrying it as she mulled over the situation. “She even had really reasonable explanations for why certain stuff happened, but none of them involved the kids. She claimed to not even know what Amanda looked like. I thought maybe the heart ritual may have done it, but I couldn’t remember if she had mentioned them since then.”
Isuelt looked over her shoulder toward where she thought Jewell would be coming from when she eventually returned, then turned her focus back to Sapphire with a heavy sigh. She took a moment and then nodded, “You might be right. About the heart ritual. I mean...when she swapped hearts with...well, that other ‘Jewell’, is there a way that, well, that did something to her mind? Her memory?” She shifted her weight and hurried her words as she lowered her voice, coming toward Sapphire in a conspiratory manner. “I don’t think I’ve heard her say anything about them since then. Perhaps even further back.” There was no denying that Isuelt’s alarm was now triggered as she watched Sapphire, practically able to feel the anguish coming from her.
Sapphire sighed, “Maybe? Mallory seemed to think it was possible but she wasn’t sure either. I thought maybe if I could pinpoint when she last mentioned them.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek some more. Even with Issy and Mallory both thinking along the same lines, something didn’t feel quite right about that explanation. The other Jewell had been a mother once upon a time as well, so getting her heart wouldn’t have wiped them from their Jewell’s memory. Right? For a moment, Sapphire had a vision of a white haired woman hovering over her, fingers stopping short of brushing her forehead, and Jewell pulling her close, arguing with the woman.
Then it was gone again, an elusive dream clouded over and obscured by death and painkillers. “I guess there really isn’t anything to be done about it either way whenever it happened. I just thought maybe you’d know.” Sapphire slumped back against the mountain of pillows Jewell had placed behind her, defeated. “I wish Ishmerai were here. He’d know what to do. Maybe I’ll write to him.”
She didn’t get to offer up any other alternatives because they could both hear Jewell traipsing back down the stairs. “I foooound them! Time to try and kick my ass, Is.” The Empress stopped in the vestibule, not coming immediately into the living room as she tried to pull her sneakers on without sitting down. “Try being the operative word here!”
Isuelt’s dark head turned toward Jewell, a light smile on her features, though Jewell was far too engrossed in getting her shoes on as she balanced to notice. Isuelt looked back to Sapphire and tried on a different smile for her; this one was encouraging, along with a concerned brow and a quick nod of her head. Maybe Isuelt would help to figure out Sapphire’s riddle, subtly if she did so. She offered a wink to Sapphire, adding for Jewell more than Sapphire herself, “Keep yourself cozy and don’t get into too much trouble.” After an exhale, she lowered her voice poignantly to Sapphire, “In the meanwhile, I’m gonna see if I can’t knock a little sense into this one over here.” Isuelt nodded in Jewell’s direction before she mouthed It’ll be okay to Sapphire. Another wink and she was finally turned and facing Jewell. “I’m ready when you are, Empress. And I’m sure you’ll land more than few. I’m rusty, remember?” She grinned widely to Jewell as she headed toward her.
“Yeah yeah, so rusty.” Jewell laughed, ducking into the living room real quick to kiss Sapphire on the cheek as if she was a little girl. “Like Issy said, don’t get into too much trouble.” She fluffed up her pillows despite Sapphire’s protestations and then ruffled her hair, “Be good. Love you.” Then she and the Judge were on their way out the door.
Sapphire shifted uncomfortably, trying to squish the pillows back down after Jewell’s “help”. Once they were less fluffy, she sat back and brooded, not as much over Issy’s admonition to stay out of trouble but over what else she had said: It’ll be okay.
She hoped so.
((Co-written with the lovely Isuelt!))
Isuelt smirked and chuckled as Jewell vacated the foyer, offering a “Take your time!” before the Empress was completely out of sight. She then took a minute to saunter in to see the couch-dweller. Isuelt leaned against the door jamb, her hands in the pockets of her jogging pants. She grinned at Sapphire, “How are things, killer?” She would be perpetually impressed by Sapphire’s ability to handle herself in a fight after she had seen the young woman in action last year.
The young, blue-haired woman was healing quicker than anyone expected, but she was still confined to the couch for good reason. She pushed herself up, adjusting a pillow behind her to sit more comfortably, with only a little difficulty, but even that seemed to exhaust her. “Been better,” she grinned. Nothing could make her lose her sense of humor and positive outlook on life at least. “But the doctors all say I’m like some kind of super-healer, so that’s pretty cool as long as they don’t turn me into some genetic experiment.”
“Yeah, well,” Isuelt grinned, “That’s gotta have its upsides, too. I mean, they could turn you into some kind of superhero or something.” She winked at Sapphire, letting her lips slide into a wide smirk. “Then you could go around here kicking everyone’s ass.” She chuckled lightly as her own humor before pushing off of the wall and heading into the room. “You know, you, your mom...your whole family really, you guys constantly surprise me. Your resilience is really, well, pretty amazing.” She paused and regarded the young Sapphire. Isuelt was no fool. She knew that Sapphire possessed the same fire that her mother had and the same prowess in battle. In fact, it was quite possible that Sapphire beheld the gift of a natural warrior, even more than Jewell. But that was just Isuelt looking with her Scathachian-trained eyes. “Still, best to take it easy and do what they tell you to do, yeah?”
“Yeah yeah,” she sighed out. “I’m trying. It gets a bit boring after a while, though. But um… speaking of mom.” Sapphire craned her head to check the hallway even though she could still hear Jewell upstairs along with the occasional thunk of a shoe being thrown over her shoulder. Satisfied, she looked back at Issy. “Weird question but bare with me, I got knocked on the head. You knew my mom’s kids, right? Like… you both were friends back then before everything went to hell in Faerie?”
Observing Sapphire’s clandestine approach to the question, Isuelt tread lightly. “Yes.” She quieted the voices in her head just long enough to think back to Jewell’s children. The children from so long ago that were taken from her. Isuelt didn’t necessarily know the entire story, for the politics in Faerie were complicated, to put it mildly. But she did remember their gorgeous shining faces and their lovely little grins.
“Oh thank Nature!” Sapphire gushed out with a sigh. “I was starting to think I was going crazy. Look--” She cast another glance towards the stairs, thinking she heard something, before rushing her question out, “Something weird is going on. When’s the last time you heard mom mention them?”
“Uhm...well…” Isuelt was perplexed by Sapphire’s obvious relief. “I don’t know…I guess it’s been a while. But, she really didn’t talk about them all that much.” She thought for a moment, “I always supposed it was because it was too painful, but…” She paused, studying Sapphire, “Now I’m not so sure. Why? What are you thinking? What’s wrong with Jewell?” Isuelt was in mid-jump over the proverbial gun. “She’s not talking about them? Not remembering them?” After all, Jewell had been through some fairly traumatic stuff over the last few years. Psychologically, that had to take a toll on a person. Even a fae.
Sapphire shook her head, “She doesn’t remember them. She got all squirrely on me the other day, insisted she had never had children. Acted like I was losing my mind.” She bit at the inside of her cheek, worrying it as she mulled over the situation. “She even had really reasonable explanations for why certain stuff happened, but none of them involved the kids. She claimed to not even know what Amanda looked like. I thought maybe the heart ritual may have done it, but I couldn’t remember if she had mentioned them since then.”
Isuelt looked over her shoulder toward where she thought Jewell would be coming from when she eventually returned, then turned her focus back to Sapphire with a heavy sigh. She took a moment and then nodded, “You might be right. About the heart ritual. I mean...when she swapped hearts with...well, that other ‘Jewell’, is there a way that, well, that did something to her mind? Her memory?” She shifted her weight and hurried her words as she lowered her voice, coming toward Sapphire in a conspiratory manner. “I don’t think I’ve heard her say anything about them since then. Perhaps even further back.” There was no denying that Isuelt’s alarm was now triggered as she watched Sapphire, practically able to feel the anguish coming from her.
Sapphire sighed, “Maybe? Mallory seemed to think it was possible but she wasn’t sure either. I thought maybe if I could pinpoint when she last mentioned them.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek some more. Even with Issy and Mallory both thinking along the same lines, something didn’t feel quite right about that explanation. The other Jewell had been a mother once upon a time as well, so getting her heart wouldn’t have wiped them from their Jewell’s memory. Right? For a moment, Sapphire had a vision of a white haired woman hovering over her, fingers stopping short of brushing her forehead, and Jewell pulling her close, arguing with the woman.
Then it was gone again, an elusive dream clouded over and obscured by death and painkillers. “I guess there really isn’t anything to be done about it either way whenever it happened. I just thought maybe you’d know.” Sapphire slumped back against the mountain of pillows Jewell had placed behind her, defeated. “I wish Ishmerai were here. He’d know what to do. Maybe I’ll write to him.”
She didn’t get to offer up any other alternatives because they could both hear Jewell traipsing back down the stairs. “I foooound them! Time to try and kick my ass, Is.” The Empress stopped in the vestibule, not coming immediately into the living room as she tried to pull her sneakers on without sitting down. “Try being the operative word here!”
Isuelt’s dark head turned toward Jewell, a light smile on her features, though Jewell was far too engrossed in getting her shoes on as she balanced to notice. Isuelt looked back to Sapphire and tried on a different smile for her; this one was encouraging, along with a concerned brow and a quick nod of her head. Maybe Isuelt would help to figure out Sapphire’s riddle, subtly if she did so. She offered a wink to Sapphire, adding for Jewell more than Sapphire herself, “Keep yourself cozy and don’t get into too much trouble.” After an exhale, she lowered her voice poignantly to Sapphire, “In the meanwhile, I’m gonna see if I can’t knock a little sense into this one over here.” Isuelt nodded in Jewell’s direction before she mouthed It’ll be okay to Sapphire. Another wink and she was finally turned and facing Jewell. “I’m ready when you are, Empress. And I’m sure you’ll land more than few. I’m rusty, remember?” She grinned widely to Jewell as she headed toward her.
“Yeah yeah, so rusty.” Jewell laughed, ducking into the living room real quick to kiss Sapphire on the cheek as if she was a little girl. “Like Issy said, don’t get into too much trouble.” She fluffed up her pillows despite Sapphire’s protestations and then ruffled her hair, “Be good. Love you.” Then she and the Judge were on their way out the door.
Sapphire shifted uncomfortably, trying to squish the pillows back down after Jewell’s “help”. Once they were less fluffy, she sat back and brooded, not as much over Issy’s admonition to stay out of trouble but over what else she had said: It’ll be okay.
She hoped so.
((Co-written with the lovely Isuelt!))
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