Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Fri Mar 31, 2017 3:32 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Nothing could have prepared Dalanesca for what took place next. She had known that there was a possibility her revelation would have the impending results, but she was not ready regardless of that knowledge. When Story rose and stood so near to her, his hands gently caressing her arms before coaxing her to uncross them, every nerve in her body went on high alert. Instinctively, she curled her fingers around his own as he took her hands, speaking softly to her. She parted her lips to say something, but the words were lost as his lips brushed against her own.

As quickly as the kiss, if it could be called such a thing, had come, it was gone. He had pulled away, and his apology rang in her ears. ”Wait, don’t g-” she said, reaching out to him - but he had vanished, by some means of spellwork. For a moment, the thought crossed her mind to rush to his quarters, that perhaps he had just removed himself from the situation at a hand - but a moment of focus put that thought to rest. She had always been able to sense his presence in her realm, as it was with any living being who ventured there - but she could no longer sense Story. He was gone.

Dalanesca stood in the same place she had been, a lost look still crossing her visage. She reached up to her own face, delicately brushing her fingertips across her own lips, remembering the feeling of that incredibly brief moment. All of the build up, the anxiety over revealing her true thoughts to him - and it had culminated in his departure. She could not help but feel at fault, that she had put him into an uncomfortable situation in which he had not wanted to find himself. She dropped her hand back to her side and let loose a heavy sigh.

”Why am I even surprised?” she asked herself aloud, wandering back over to the table where her decanters of liquor sat. She poured a rather large amount into one of the tumblers and drained it fairly quickly. She felt the burn of the liquid slipping down her throat, and slumped back onto the sofa once more. Her eyes burned, and for a moment she felt as though tears were going to begin pouring forth from them. She fought them back and sat up a bit, balancing her elbow on her leg and resting her chin on her hand.

She knew she had been taking a chance when she revealed her thoughts to Story, but she had not thought that he would just up and leave. The thought crossed her mind to head out and look for him, and demand an explanation from him - but that would solve nothing. She resolved herself to thinking that there was a reason he left, and that perhaps someday she would be enlightened as to why. She leaned over to look for her decanter, at which point she realized it was empty - and that had been the last of it.

This was not a night in which she desired to be left alone with her thoughts. She was confused and tense, with confusion being the most prevalent. With a sigh, she got up from the sofa, and in the blink of an eye she was gone, having harnessed energy from the Soul Stream to bring her to the Sundering Gardens to pay a visit to Angela Rose.

Author: Story, Posted: Tue Mar 28, 2017 3:53 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

It was in a dragon's nature to ponder the riddle, and the divine comedy of existence. Such concepts as reincarnation were often times exclusively a humanoid phenomenon, however. Dragons had been known to live other lives, but not without some great purpose in mind beyond mere Karmic repentance - spoken by The Voice, to echo in eternity.

Story's eyes followed Dalanesca as she paced the room. He tried to imagine her in a role beyond the gloom of Porta Inferi, in a sun dress, in a field down by a mill, where he would often meet his old lover. It was the only place that they could meet in secret, away from the vampiric courts his kin had created…grand castles which now had been long fallen to the ravages of time. He pictured the goddess possessing of a care-free spirit, unburdened by the shackles of duty brought on by ascension, and the jadedness that came with loss. It was quite easy to see the past in her; even still, Story denied it, finding the concept to be improbable.

The dragon paused in his thoughts, becoming fully externally present as Dalanesca's words were focused upon him, in the here and now. His heart raced as he looked up at her, standing right before him, and opening her feelings to him. He knew it was the potent fire that flowed through him, but he felt in that moment that he might not care who she used to be. Growing sentiment for her was something that was even more difficult to admit than the possibility that they had known each other at one bleak wrinkle in time.

"You would have heart for some old thing like me…?" he more mouthed than verbalized. He was immediately caught in a sort of regret for his loose tongue, as though he could not believe he just asked the words aloud. He rose from his seat, standing mere centimeters away from the goddess. He could smell the various liquors on her, as well as the heady scent that she wore. Tenderly, he traced his hands down the backs of her arms to her hands, gently tugging so as to have her uncross her arms. He took her hands in his. "No apology is necessary, I…"
Story leaned in closer, and their lips touched, for a mere hair of a second.

The inevitable moment of clarity had arrived far too late, and stung viciously. "…Forgive me! I must take my leave,"

With these words, Story had gone from the room in an instant, having woven a spell with his sudden panic. He was first transerversed into his quarters in her realm, then from the underworld entirely, adrift on the tiny skiff that had taken him there in the beginning, many months prior.

In stark contrast to the darkness below, it was broad daylight out on the sea. The smells and sounds of the nearby port reached Story, and he collapsed into the boat, face in his hands. Breathing in the salty air made him shudder, and the moment of sobriety he'd had soon became his sole state, accompanied by a dull pain behind the eyes. He looked to the alcove where the entrance to Porta Inferi would be at night, imagining Dalanesca still standing there, lips parted in confusion. He imagined she could still see him now, and longed to simply use her power to pull him back to her. It was too late now, though.

He had made his choice.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Mon Mar 20, 2017 2:22 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

When the pair had entered the sitting room off the library, Dalanesca found herself both disappointed and relieved at the same time that Story had chosen to sit on one of the armchairs rather than on the sofa next to her.  For a moment, she struggled to bring her eyes to rest upon him, as she was rather unsure of what sort of emotions were coursing through her mind.  Confusion was the most prevalent, but the other underlying emotions mixed in with that confusion into a volatile cocktail.  

When Story began to speak, she turned to look at him finally.  She took in the differences in his features from the change in ambiance, appreciating each detail as she studied him.  While she wished that he would have an easy explanation for her, she was not surprised that he seemed unable to do so.  It was an odd thing, the silent suggestion that his earlier words had made - and the implications that came along with it complicated whatever it was that she felt towards Story even further.  His words did nothing to assuage her confusion - in fact, they furthered it.

Dalanesca remained silent throughout Story's words, allowing him to finish his train of thought without interruption.  Throughout the brief period, she never took her eyes off of him, her gaze studying the features of his face - even as he looked away from her.

When he had finished speaking, she rose from her seated position and walked towards one of the room's sides.  She still remained quiet for a moment, but there was an air about her that gave away she had much to say, but could not find the words to properly phrase what she wished.  Finally, she spoke, and her voice was soft, much quieter than usual.  "It is true, that I have lived many lives," she began.  "I remember many of them - but there are still many things that are cloudy, or that I do not remember at all," she said, with her back to him.  She braced herself on the wall with one hand, leaning forward so that her forehead nearly touched the wall.  "Nearly every day, I am remembering something new," she continued, the words coupled with a sigh.  "I do not remember you," she said.  "But there is some…. feeling, some notion between us.  I do not know what it is, but I cannot find an explanation."

She paused, turning back towards him.  Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth in a contemplative manner again, and she looked at him while deciding on how to best phrase her next words.  "When I look at you… there are many things I feel." She took a few steps towards Story, stopping a foot or so away from his chair.  When the pair had entered the sitting room off the library, Dalanesca found herself both disappointed and relieved at the same time that Story had chosen to sit on one of the armchairs rather than on the sofa next to her. For a moment, she struggled to bring her eyes to rest upon him, as she was rather unsure of what sort of emotions were coursing through her mind. Confusion was the most prevalent, but the other underlying emotions mixed in with that confusion into a volatile cocktail. "There are times that I think it is because we both know what it is like to lose someone… and we know what it is like to have been alive for a very long time, as you say," she said, raising a hand to push a section of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.  The residual effects from the liquor she had drank still burned within her mind, and she found it rather necessary to explain herself in a rather blunt fashion.

"There are times, when I look at you, when you are in my presence, that I want you to leave, not because I don't want you near me… but because I do not want to face what runs through my mind."  She paused, clearly trying to think of how to continue.  "Other times, when I look at you, I want to be close to you,"  she continued, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she continued.  "Close enough to press my lips against your own, and show you what it is that I am thinking of," she admitted.  Her eyes still locked onto his own, she folded her arms around herself, in almost a defensive position.  "It actually scares me, that I think these things - but perhaps you are not wrong, and that is the reason I feel this way.  If that is the case, I would not need to feel so guilty about what it is that I want," she concluded.  "I apologize for my bluntness," she said suddenly, her cheeks reddening even further than they already had as she realized what she had admitted to him.  She turned away, moving towards one of the windows, through which she could see that the sun had now completely gone and had been replaced by a blood red moon.  She leaned on the sill, a bit nervous about the repercussions of what she had just admitted to Story.

If she were indeed, at one point in history, that love which Story had lost, it would explain a great deal of the tension between the two.  There was a theory she had once heard, that no matter how many times a soul reincarnated, it always retained a portion of itself, even if its current host could not consciously know that part.  Part of her - a very large part of her - wanted this to be the case.  That part of her wanted to be the one he had lost - but even if it was true… she did not know what that would bring.

Author: Story, Posted: Mon Mar 20, 2017 1:20 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Normally a creature of great poise, Story found himself lacking composure for the first time in Dalanesca's presence. He was disconcerted both by his own unnatural candidness, and by the goddess' indiscernible reactions to it. There was an awareness that there had been something growing between them since his stay in Porta Inferi, but it had gone unspoken. It was borderline sitting in the seat of their subconscious, but it had been just tangible enough to cause a tension in the air. Now that everything seemed to be coming into the open, albeit in awkward to digest pieces, the air could scarcely be breathed…or was that the booze?

Story's heart thundered in his chest anxiously as he attempted to read into Dalanesca's demeanor. "Honestly, I'm not even sure exactly what I'm saying," Story uttered quietly.  His host's blue gaze had suddenly become very resolute and stern as she approached him. He let out a gasp, and nearly stumbled forward when she yanked him from the railing he had perched on. She clearly possessed a tolerance far beyond his own to be so grounded still, despite sharing a faltering of inhibitions. His eyes followed her, dumbfounded and distracted as she walked away from him, into the palace. He lagged behind long enough to catch a few deep breaths, running both hands through his wavy salt and pepper hair, and then he followed.

One pleasant thing about the inebriation was the intense focus upon singular things. Only…it was difficult at certain moments to focus on innocent things.

Story again found himself inhaling deeply as they passed through the library, to appreciate the must and vanilla of the ancient tomes that lie within. As they entered the room, a sort of den that branched off from the library, he watched as Dalanesca continued to imbibe and then sit. He took his place in one of the armchairs, leaning to one side on his elbow, and crossing one leg over the other. In the more natural light of the fireplace here, his dark olive skin stood out, while the crimson in his eyes dulled to a warmer red-brown.

"There are many things I can explain. This…I'm not sure I am able," Story mused to the goddess. He was not stalling. He truly had no coherent explanation, and was searching for the words. It was still rather difficult to speak clearly with the room spinning, and fire in his belly. "I have lived a very long time. As have you. Perhaps it is only that - we are a vintage of a pedigree that belongs on the same shelf. However…"
He found himself looking away from her, into the fire.

"I cannot deny that the resemblance is uncanny. In appearance and in spirit. I'm not making any leaps, understand. It's just….coincidental is all."
He looked back to her and shook his head. "Don't worry. It's a happy coincidence."

There were other implications to his words that he thought on, but had not intentionally meant. He knew of the man that was with the oracle he had met in Arri….the one who had lived many times. Could Dalanesca's spirit be similar? He wasn't sure what would happen if that were the case. Would it be at all unreasonable to desire things to pick up where they left off, if such an improbable thing were so?

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Sun Mar 19, 2017 12:59 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Her eyes found Story again as he rose and began to move about the garden, her gaze shifting back and forth with his movement.  She drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting on it slightly in a contemplative manner.  She thought for a brief moment on how to explain her question to him - truthfully, she had not thought much on the words at all before she had blurted them out.  The expression that crossed his visage took her slightly off guard, as it was much less serious than the face he seemed to usually put on. ”I…” She began to speak, but it was clear that she had no inkling on what to say. She thought of many ways in which she could describe the mystery she saw behind him.  There was something about her guest that gave her pause - something that made her feel drawn to him.  She could not describe it - she had tried to pass it off as loneliness, the desire for someone to distract her from it - but it certainly seemed to be something above and beyond that.

Fortunately for her, in part, it seemed as though Story had more to say.  She noted the change in his tone as he spoke, and his next words confused her even further.  She found herself speechless, to say the least, as she was not quite grasping the enormity of what his words implied.

Her confusion was paused as she watched him stumble, close to making contact with a planting of nightshade.  She stood up quickly, about to make her way to him to keep him from getting a face full of the poisonous plant, but she stopped at the foot of her chair as he seemed to recover himself.  She remained in her standing position, facing him, as he sat himself back on the railing he had used as a brace.  

She could feel her heart beat more quickly as he began speaking once more, and she felt as though she was beginning to understand what he was suggesting. On one hand, she found herself feeling relief at his admission of finding her interesting, much in the same manner that she found him; but on the other hand, she felt extreme confusion that what she understood his implication to be could even be a possibility.  It was true, that there were still aspects of her mortal life (and those lives that had come before it) that she had yet to remember.

She finally broke her gaze away from him, looking towards the strange sky of her realm, where the blood red sun had begun to set into the reddish-orange sky, giving way to nightfall.  She drew in a deep breath, trying to process the words he had spoken to her, and as she exhaled her breath seemed a bit shaky, unsure of the situation at hand. She was no longer trying to hide her unease from him, as the unease was not directed at him but at the implication that had been set forth.  Was it possible?  Could she have, in another life, been that soul of which he had spoken upon first coming to her realm?  The notion was improbable, but not impossible - but from the time (albeit rather brief and uninformative) she had spent around Story, she was sure that he would not have even brought it up if he had a reasonable doubt that it was not the case.

She could feel a chill in the descending evening air, and wrapped her arms about herself.  “If you’re saying…” She trailed off, unsure of how to form her thoughts into coherent phrases.  She sighed and shook her head, turning her back to him and stepping toward the small table near the seat she had earlier been.  Reaching down, she grasped her stone tumbler, bringing it to her lips and draining it before placing it back in its resting spot.  She turned back to him, staring at him with quizzical eyes for a moment before walking towards him.  When she was within arms’ reach, she grasped his wrist and pulled him down from the railing.  She gave him a moment to make sure his footing was even - after all, even with the serious tones of the conversation she was feeling a bit on the inebriated side, and was fairly sure that he was not far behind her - if not already ahead of her thanks to her divinity.  From where he landed, she found herself standing mere inches from him. 

“This… conversation is not done,” she said as she looked up at him, her blue eyes piercing into his own reddish eyes.  “But I am afraid, regardless of my divinity, I am growing rather cold,” she said simply.  She dropped her hand from his wrist.  “Let’s go inside,” she said, and turned for the entrance of the palace, assuming that he would follow her.

After a moment’s walk, the pair found themselves in one of the side rooms of the vast library housed within Domus Tenebris.  A longer, black upholstered sofa and two armchairs adorned the room, settled around a circular table carved out of obsidian.  A few decanters of various spirits sat on the table, and the goddess immediately reached out to grab a glass from the tray they sat upon, uncorking a decanter and pouring a small amount out.  She downed it in one gulp and sat down upon the sofa, turning to Story, whom she had left standing in the entrance to the room.

“Explain this to me… why am I drawn to you?” she said, her words the furthest from demanding they could be - but also as honestly as she could phrase them.  It came out as more of a plea, that perhaps her fascination with him did have a reason, and that in and of itself was enough to make her keen to find out if she understood him correctly.  Even with her request, there was a knowing look in her eyes.  If, in fact, he explained to her what she expected - there had to be a way for her to extract those memories… but it was a matter of how.

Author: Story, Posted: Sat Mar 18, 2017 11:43 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

The alchemical reactions taking place within Story after he had imbibed the entire glass were hard to describe. Lucidity was present, yes; but not like he was accustomed to. He was a being of duality. He did not just assume a guise, he became that form entirely, while, simultaneously, he would always be a dragon beneath. This strange alcohol both hazed him, and rooted him. The stupor was entirely human, and that's where it made him vulnerable. It was unnerving, but he was certain he had become completely unaware of his true aspects. It was like a lucid dream, where any notions of proper behavior had flown out an open window. Every single human reaction, urge, and emotion was almost unbearably potent.

Try as he might, Story could not focus on regaining any sense of control. What he could focus on was every minute detail around him…mainly in his host. The way Dalanesca's expressions varied moment to moment as she spoke with him…the way her loose clothing hung over her frame and every curve. He found himself being stirred by the slight huskiness to her voice, and the feel of her gentle touch. She leaned towards him, and their eyes had locked for an intense few seconds. Story's lips involuntarily parted ever so slightly,…

Then the dream was broken for moment when Dalanesca suddenly pulled away from him, as though a serpent had surreptitiously bitten her.

The snake's venom coursed through the goddess in the form of an awkward, forced stoicism - something that Story could sense, even in his altered state. While the booze had affected his inhibitions and overall state of being, it apparently did not hinder his keen perception.The difference now was that he was just more inclined to make commentary. He was about to ask her about her breaking away, but her question had come first, and gave him pause.

"Je suis interesting to a great many I come into contact with," Story stated matter-of-factually, his accent slurring even more now. Crimson gaze shifting aside, he rose from his seat, and stumbled at first, but soon found enough equilibrium to pace about the garden thoughtfully. "It depends on what context you are using the descriptive in. If you find the words, I would very much like to know how I trouble a goddess as much as that goddess would herself."
Running his hand through his hair, he shot her a look, accompanied by an odd little smug smirk. He hiccuped violently, and shook his head.

As suddenly as Story's mirth had shown, he had become very serious in demeanor just as quickly. His brow furrowed.
"I think I always knew why you have been interesting to me," he remarked. "I just never really admitted it to myself."

Story braced himself on a marble railing as a fit of dizziness overtook him, very nearly making him fall headfirst into a planter box filled with nightshade. He took several deep breaths, and turned to face Dalanesca once more, sitting on the rail.
"You remind me of someone…A lot, in fact. Dare I say it, I've almost thought it unnecessary to come to you for your end of the bargain, as I often feel like I may have achieved the closure of my past already."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Thu Mar 16, 2017 4:54 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Dalanesca raised an eyebrow at Story.  The dark intonation of his voice gave way to something deeper, possibly a bit sinister.  She found herself thinking of how many times his comments made her raise her eyebrows at him, and nearly laughed at the amount of times she could recall.  Her conversations with him always carried some comment that caught her off guard, and she found it refreshing - as well as intriguing.  It certainly did not help tame the fascination that she felt with him.  She answered him with a vague shrug of her shoulders, shifting her legs on the lounge she sat on.

She nodded as he declined her offering of new clothing.  She took no offense.  His explanation as to why he did not want the clothing made sense to her, even if she would not have felt the same on her own.  It was just another thing to add to the list of interesting aspects about him - a list that was growing rather long.  ”Just thought I would offer,” she said, shrugging once more.  She smiled as he sat down.  ”It is nice to see you as well,” she said, though her happiness at his presence had already been rather apparent.  ”This place has taken on an entirely new light, so to speak,” she said, at the mention of how calm things seemed to be.  ”I must say, I’m rather enjoying the peace,” she said, simply.  

She smiled, laughing very quietly as Story eyed the drink she offered him, seemingly hesitant on drinking it.  ”Why would I kill something I enjoy?” The words held more meaning than their surface offered, made even moreso apparent by her gaze lingering on his own crimson eyes before drifting away to the decanter of whiskey.  ”Although, if you have more after that I wouldn’t add any more - I don’t want to have to go plucking your soul out of one of the Circles,” she said, with a laugh - though the humor was masked with a bit of seriousness.  She was unsure of what would happen to him, were he to ingest too much of the powerful liquid.

Moments after he had taken a few drinks of the whiskey, Dalanesca could sense Story’s eyes on her - but she did draw attention to the fact that she noticed.  Instead, she took a drink of her own, setting the glass down after.  ”You’re welcome here as long as you want, you know that,” she said, rather quietly.  She could hear the effect the drink had on his words, but quieted as he spoke once more.  His next words held a bit more weight, though she was unsure as to what type of weight it was.  She said nothing, her eyes fixating on his own - though her focus required a bit more effort, as she was clearly feeling the intended effects of the liquor she had been imbibing.

She felt a strange tenseness in the air between the two, and his next phrase caused her to think for a moment.  It was something that she had been guilty of herself - not taking time for herself, or taking time to enjoy things.  ”Well,” she said, rather abruptly, and swung her legs around to sit up on the edge of her lounge chair, facing story.  She leaned towards him, the fabric of her skirt bunched up between her legs, scooping up her glass in one hand.  She took another quick drink and set it down again.  ”You need to do that, then!” she said, with a smile.  Her cheeks had fallen rather rosey after the last few sips.  ”I need to take my own advice, truth be told,” she said.  ”Though.. Don’t smell the roses in here, please?  You’ll die,” she said, simply - as most of the flowers in the garden were very poisonous. 

She leaned towards him a bit more, and reached out, laying her palm across the top of his knee.  ”Make time for the more beautiful things in life,” she said, her eyes locking on his own. He had clearly been through an enormous amount of trials and tribulations in his life, that much was obvious - even if he was not willing to share them with her.

For a moment, she gazed at him, before pulling her hand back quickly as though she had been burned. She turned away from him, her gaze turning to the sky, and she cleared her throat a bit, moving to top her glass off.  She had finally reached the point where her speech seemed slightly off.  ”Can’t get enough of this, I’ll tell ya’,” she said, in a tone masked with a soft giggle.  She took another sip, and turned back to him.

Her next phrase came rather bluntly.  ”Why are you so interesting to me?” she asked, flatly, turning back to face him - intent on fishing some sort of answer out of him, but unsure if she truly wanted the answer.

Author: Story, Posted: Thu Mar 16, 2017 1:31 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

"I cannot say I've ever been forced to enjoy something. On the contrary…" Story trailed off, and chuckled rather darkly. "Most things I've enjoyed I have been discouraged from. Which makes one enjoy them ever the more too, no?"

Story had never mentioned much of his colored past - not even to the goddess whom he now stayed with. Leading up to and following Dalanesca's release, he had only been a confidante, a lent ear. She had spilled countless details to him of herself, yet he had remained somewhat of an enigma, despite her knowing what he was beneath the human form. There were some details that tended to crop up in his persona from time to time that told a small tale, however. He possessed a quiet, modest regality, carrying himself with dignity and poise, but seemed reluctant to relish in finer things to be had.

"I like these clothes," he politely declined. "They keep things in perspective…remind me of my own release."
He nodded at Dalanesca as he relaxed into his own seat. "It is good to see you, and your realm as a whole so placid."

Story's soft crimson-brown gaze regarded the goddess curiously, and it appeared an even deeper red in the light of Porta Inferi's sun. He looked to the amber liquid she held, then to the new one that was brought, being given a single drop of the former decanter. His thoughts drifted to the pint-sized, sassy goddess he'd shared a tea party with as he stared into the glass he was given. "This won't kill me, will it?" Swirling the contents of the glass about and inhaling its scent deeply, he decided he would let it breathe a little before indulging. "I normally don't consume anything at all, much less alcohol. For this occasion though, I will make an exception."

Dalanesca's vulnerable state plucked his heart strings. She'd opened up about the death of her family before, but had more or less remained stoic on the matter, and on the gloom of her isolation. Her stark rage had simmered away into a sort of saute of sadness. He could not help but think of words he was not meant to hear, while Angela had been in the realm. It was no trouble at all for him to be at her beck and call, but if she had hopes of reaching further, driven by her sorrow…he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Story had taken several gulps of the whiskey within a few moments.
It hit him. Hard, and instantly, though also subtly.

In his momentary inner musings, he had failed to realize his eyes had wandered and dumbly transfixed upon areas of the goddess' exposed milky skin. Story shook his head when a moment of lucidity allowed him to catch this, and shifted his gaze from her long legs to her blue eyes. "Well, I'm clearly not going anywhere…anytime soon," Story offered, his accent making him slur the words even more so than if he had none. He thought for a second and in his haze, found it necessary to be redundant. "I'm here for you, mon amie," he reiterated, unaware of any contexts that could be read in his second phrasing.

"It has been far too long for me as well. I wander, and yet I never think to stop and smell the roses."

 

 

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed Mar 1, 2017 11:54 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Not long passed before her staff member returned, politely informing her that Story had accepted her offer and would be to the garden in a short amount of time.  She thanked the girl, noticing that she seemed rather jumpy.  ”Is everything alright?” she questioned, tilting her head to one side.  

The servant nodded.  ”Yes, forgive me… your guest was a bit startled by my arrival and gave me a fright is all,” she responded.  Dalanesca gave her a nod, and she took that as a sign to take her leave, hurrying out of the gardens and back towards the palace, where she waited at the entrance in case anything was needed of her further.

It was not long before she caught the sound of Story’s distinct voice.  Dalanesca turned her attention in the direction that Story approached her from, and a smile spread out across her ruby lips.  She set down the stone tumbler from which she had been drinking more of the dark whiskey that Angela had provided her with, and clapped her hands together, sitting forward on her lounge-style chair.  ”Ah!  He arrives!” she said, with a bit of a laugh.  ”Don’t you enjoy things more when you aren’t forced to enjoy them?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at her guest.  Nodding as he mentioned the amount of time he had been spending in the library, she leaned back on her chair again, allowing her bare legs to bask in the blood-red sun as they poke out from the side-slit of her skirt.

”This is the first I can remember feeling actual relaxation in the time since my realm shifted,” she admitted, closing her eyes as she felt the warmth on her skin.  Staying in her reclined position, she reached for her drink as Story sat down near her.  She glanced over at him as she took a drink, and chuckled slightly.  ”You know, if the clothes that have been made available to you aren’t to your liking, I can acquire something different for you,” she said, her eyes scanning his form up and down and taking in the sorry state of his attire.  It was not a phrase said in an insulting manner, but more in an effort to let him know that he was welcome to ask for things if he wished.

”Truth be told,” she said, propping herself forward a bit with her hands. ”My intention was originally to discuss business - but if you are not in the mood for that, fine with me,” she said, the simplicity of her speech a bit striking in comparison to her regular demeanor.  ”Which, I suppose, would make this about pleasure, then!  It’s about time you join me for a drink, anyway,” she said, springing forward to reach for the tray with the decanter of whiskey on it.  She pulled one of the empty tumblers towards her, moving to pour a bit of the liquid into it, pausing after a bit had gone into the tumbler.  ”On second thought,” she said, and drained the amber whiskey she had poured into the tumbler, drinking it herself.  ”Angela Rose gave me this… I’m pretty sure she made it,” she said.  ”That being said…. It’s very good - but probably too good, if you catch my drift,” she said, giving him an awkward yet playful wink.

“Better idea,” she said, waving her arm towards the servant standing near the palace entrance.  The girl looked at her and she pointed at the tray near them.  ”Could you bring a bit more of a selection for Story, here, please?” she asked.  The girl nodded, looking a bit shocked at the informal way the goddess had addressed her, and disappeared in Domus Tenebris, coming back out a short moment later with a tray carrying a few more decanters, each with liquids of varying hues.  ”Thank you!” she said, her voice uncharacteristically cheerful.  The girl nodded, looking as though she were holding in laughter at the Reaper’s odd behavior, and walked back to her post near the palace entrance.  ”I keep these around because I like the taste, but they don’t do much for me anymore,” she said, with a bit of a frown.

”Now, I’m not sure what you’re most fond of,” she said, sliding sideways on her chair as she fiddled with a few of the decanters.  She poured a small drop of the whiskey she had been enjoying into one of the tumblers and swirled it around, so the amber liquid coated it.  She then reached for another crystal decanter that sat on the newly arrived tray, pouring another amber liquid into the glass.  ”But this is an aged, time old favorite of mine,” she said.  ”That little drop of… whatever this is that Angela has given me, will just give it an extra kick for you,” she added, setting the glass on a small table near Story’s chosen seat, clearly meant for him to drink.

She twisted back to recline once more, pushing her dark hair off of her bare shoulders.  With another drink, she turned her head to face Story.  She did not say anything at first, only letting her gaze rest on him for a moment.  Her mind drifted back to when Angela had still been locked in her child-like stasis, when Story had walked in on the two of them conversing in her kitchen - partially about him.  Her cheeks reddened slightly at the thought, and she turned her gaze away from him, looking up towards the bright red sun in the sky.  ”It’s been awhile since I’ve just sat and made idle chatter with someone, you know?” she said, with a bit of a sigh.  ”If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate the company?” At that moment, it became clear that, although the goddess was ecstatic and a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders - she was rather lonely, as the visitors to her realm were few and far between - which was not unusual, given the stylistic choice she had made in crafting the underworld - but it did not change the fact that she craved interaction with another.

Author: Story, Posted: Mon Feb 27, 2017 1:41 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

The familiar, metallic tinge reached Story's nostrils. The scent was mingled with panic…with fear. He could hear the man's labored breathing…the beat of his frantic heart. Story was giving chase, but he did not exactly know why. It was not hatred or violence that drove him. Was it longing? Curiosity? He couldn't be sure. The appearance of the one who fled was unknown to him. Everything else about him seemed so familiar, however. He wanted….no needed to possess them. The dragon was on the hunt.

Story wound through impossibly-angled alleys, where cobblestone mingled with leaf-covered grass, and hole-riddled pumice, among other, less identifiable surfaces. What city was this? Adeluna? Hoja Mesto? It looked like every place he had been, but also none of them.

Pursuit led him into a small, unfurnished house. Well, unfurnished, save for a small vanity in the center of the living area with a dusty mirror atop it. For whatever reason, Story felt instantly drawn to this piece, forgetting all about the thrill of the chase. He wiped the mirror with his sleeve, and was instantly taken aback by his own reflection.
In contrast to his bemused expression, his reflection stared back with a sinister smirk, eyes ablaze with fiery Autumn colors, burning into his dull crimson gaze. Story reached out to touch the mirror's surface, for it rippled like the surface of a quicksilver solution. Suddenly, a dark tendril shot out from the murky thing, wrapping about his neck…



Story awoke with a start, grabbing at the servant's clothes. Having only come to retrieve him, she gasped, eyes wide with terror as he violently pulled her down close to him. His eyes were crazed and his skin was cold. It strangely seemed to warm up as he came fully lucid.
Quickly letting go of the servant, Story shook his head and apologized profusely. She seemed understanding that he was subject to vivid nightmares, and only repeated what she had the entire time she was trying to wake him.
"My lady Dalanesca requests your presence in Paraiso Venenum," she said with a small bow of her head.

"…Allow me a few moments to gather my thoughts, but tell her I will be along shortly," Story stated distractedly, patting her hand.




More than willing to grant the goddess' request, Story made his way through the palace to the gardens. She seemed to grow disconcertingly comfortable with him in a very short time following her release from her binding. As always, in all things, the dragon was very measured in his reactions and his words. In truth, he wasn't really certain how he felt about the matter - the possibility that there could be something more between them than was openly admitted; thus, his casually guarded, neutral demeanor was not deceptive in the least. It was actually accurate.

"Ironic you would enjoy your freedom in the very place you were bound to," Story observed as he approached. "I'm one to talk, though. I've been too attached to your library to be anywhere else myself."

Despite the clothing that was offered to him, he still seemed keen on wearing the ragged trousers and religious robes from Arri he had acquired. It was what he had arrived in to her realm. One could always get the sense that more regal finery had at one time been his norm, by his poise. He spurned it now, though, for whatever reason.

He smoothed his hair and beard, still tousled from a fitful sleep. Cracking his neck, and rubbing out a knot, he yawned while reclining into a seat near Dalanesca's. "Is this about business, or pleasure?" he asked, still somewhat distracted in his mind by the odd dream he'd had earlier. "If it is the former, I am in no hurry. I have time, and all of it is…a very sensitive topic for me, as you no doubt understand."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Tue Feb 21, 2017 1:54 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Her guest’s demeanor seemed a bit off when he returned to the library, but she brushed that detail from her mind as she answered his question.  “I have,” she said, and her words reflected the confidence that she felt.  She was certain that the trinket she procured for their use would work, as it fit the standards he had offered her for what the item needed to represent.  She pushed the hair comb across the table in his direction, and spoke rather softly.  

“At the beginning, when the spheres shifted and my realm changed forms, becoming this,” she said, with a broad wave of her hand. “A woman braved Dolor Fluvium to make it to Porta Inferi, and she found herself in the Fifth Circle… the circle of Anger,” she said.  Her voice remained solid, never wavering, as she wove the tale for Story about why the comb had significance.  “You see, the woman’s son had been injured beyond medical help, but he would not die - because I would not allow death any longer,” she said, flatly.  She took a breath, continuing on.  “She, of course, perished, becoming one with the fighters in the circle… as most do who travel here… but I found this,” she said, gesturing once more to the trinket.  “And for a brief moment, I felt responsible for the woman’s death,” she said.  “I still feel a tinge of guilt as I look at it now,” she said, her voice only now showing any hint of emotion.

She grabbed the comb once more and pushed her chair back from the table and stood, walking until she was fairly close to Story.  “Of anything, this will be strong enough,” she said, and reached forward, grasping his hand in her own and pressing the comb into his palm, her fingers closing his own around it.  “So now…,” she said, looking up at him as she dropped her hands from his own.  “What must we do next?” she asked, a sinister glint to the smile that had snaked its way onto her lips.

-

The chains had been broken, and Dalanesca was no longer confined to Porta Inferi.  In her rage, she had caused the death of the Goddess Angela Rose, but she had merely been shattered into crystalline pieces and resurrected into the form of a child - which Dalanesca had been tasked, along with Adraejen, Angela’s husband, to raise until she matured back to adulthood.  Due to his success in helping her, Dalanesca had offered Story a place to stay in Porta Inferi as long as he liked, and the ability to come and go from the realm without traversing the Circles or the River of Grief.  

Truth be told, a weight had been lifted from Dalanesca’s shoulders.  Though her spheres remained as Death and Darkness, her demeanor had changed slightly.  She still carried the same sultry tones, the same dark gazes, but there was a light to her personality that had not been there before.  She was, perhaps, finally beginning to accept the changes that had come to her life with the loss of both her husband and child, and that was enough to restore some of the humor that she had once carried.

Now that she was not burdened with the task of raising Angela, she was able to spend more time away from her realm, but she still found comfort in the familiarity of it.  This particular day, she was enjoying a tumbler of whiskey in Paraiso Venenum, the strange, blood red sunshine of her realm shining down on her with an odd warmth.  The amber liquid brought a warm, rosy tint to her otherwise pale visage, and she felt a sense of calm that she had not experienced in quite some time.  This was, of course, thanks to Angela - her fellow Triune goddess crafted a rather ‘special’ whiskey and kept her in a seemingly endless supply.  She had, since her ascension, missed inebriation, and she welcomed the ability to reach it - though that was not her intention at the present moment.

Her thoughts drifted to Story, and how he had successfully kept his end of the “deal” the two had struck - but she had yet to keep hers for him.  She knew he would ask it of her when the time came, but she could not help but find herself hoping that it would be a while yet - she was enjoying having the company around the realm.  Dalanesca had grown accustomed to having company, with Marth having been there before the change, and then Angela after things had settled down… but now Angela was gone and her conversations with her guest (when he was there) were rather sparse.

She leaned forward, reaching for the small decanter that contained more of the drink, and filled her tumbler once more.  She called to one of her staff, one of the few who could actually speak (which she had acquired after the events between herself and Angela had taken place).  “Head down to the quarters we’ve granted to Story,” she instructed.  “If he’s there, would you ask him to join me here?” she said.  She made it rather clear that it was optional, and if he was there and chose not to join her, she would not be offended.  The female nodded and took off into the palace, seeking out Dalanesca’s guest.

Dalanesca, of course, intended to thank Story once more for his success in assisting her - but she also wanted to subtly bring up the fact that she still owed him something, and that she intended to stay true to her word if he still wished for her to.  While she waited to see if she would receive his company or not, she reclined a bit in her chair, and let loose the plait that held her hair in, the waves falling around her shoulders as she took on a much more relaxed position than she had in quite some time, finally feeling at peace, if only briefly.  She took another sip of whiskey, and looked up towards the strange sky that covered her realm, a small smile on her lips. 

Author: Story, Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2017 7:11 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Well as it may be that his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the soul he wished to find in the near future, Story did not like dwelling on memories. As he had said, all memories to dragons are fresh, no matter their age. He paced the courtyard outside the library, then leaned over a twisted silver railing, placing his face in his hands.

"You chastised us for shaping mortal kind, and making servants of them, but you find it perfectly alright to take a lover from their midst? Your actions caused one of your own to die, and threw an entire court into upheaval. You know how to pick them."

Malchiah's golden glare cast judgement upon him, but his face did not carry the weight of his words. His mouth was curled up into a cruel sneer. He cared not for the events themselves…even the death of kin. He cared only for the promise of violence, especially wrought against blood he so despised.

Dalanesca's realm was fittingly silent - deathly so; however, the discord that played out in Story's mind was thunderous. Swords clashed rapidly as he saw a battle play out. It was unlike the skirmish that the devil here that masqueraded as his brother initiated. There was intensity, and a challenge to the encounter. Malchiah had never bested him, but he had come damn near close that day. Entities and magics here that drew on his memories could only offer a poor recreation. Anger, and the panic of a cornered animal set in upon him as the courts were summoned to aid in disabling him long enough to watch his lover suffer.

Story stood tall, and inhaling deeply, eyes closed. He exhaled slowly, then continued this rhythm as he worked at clearing his mind.

Confident that he had his composure back, Story made his way about the courtyard to return to Dalanesca, but stopped when he saw Malchiah standing there before him, blocking the entrance. This was not the same devil as before, but some sort of phantom, as he could see right through him to the mansion beyond. Story instinctively reached for the sword that would not be there, and shook his head. When he looked again, the aspect was gone. He could swear he could hear a faint whispering following him through the courtyard, but he could not make out any words. In the corners of his vision, dark tendrils swirled, and vanished when he turned to look. He was unnerved, to say the least - which was unusual for him.

There was no way to be sure if what he saw was some sort of vision trying to manifest, or Porta Inferi again meddling with his thoughts. Regardless, Story would not mention what he saw to the goddess.


"Have you made any progress towards understanding?" the dragon said as he returned to the library, pacing between the tables in an uncharacteristically anxious manner.
"I have no part of your recent history but…" he bit at his lip in thought. "I…have experienced tragedies similar to your own and to the ones you took part in. I will allow you to peer into them just this once, if it will help you empathize."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Tue Feb 7, 2017 3:17 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

“Indeed,” she said, rather quietly.  His eyes upon her did not necessarily make her feel ill at ease, but there was a discomfort the look caused that she could not quite place.  Perhaps it was the foreboding tone to his voice, or the implications of what he had mentioned earlier.  She gleaned that perhaps he had shared more than he wished, and it seemed as though that aspect of their conversation had come to a head.  

She nodded, indicating her understanding of his directions.  It took her a moment of quiet contemplation, but the idea of what ‘memento’ to use came to her fairly easily.  It would not be difficult to acquire.  There had been a woman, when the madness had begun, who had braved the trip to Porta Inferi to beg Dalanesca’s mercy.  Her son, a small boy, had been mortally wounded, but with the absence of death he  faced unending suffering.  The woman had ultimately perished, but had dropped a small hair comb which Dalanesca had retrieved, and felt somewhat compelled to retain.   “Right,” she said, in acknowledgement that she understood his instruction.  

It became rather apparent to Dalanesca that something was internally distracting Story from their conversation, but she knew that pressing him on the matter would be unfruitful. She watched him for a moment, and it almost seemed as though he had become unaware of her presence.  His demeanor had shifted, and she heart the strange sizzling of the blood droplets as the fell to the floor.  It seemed that a few of his draconic qualities were appearing, and she found herself a bit concerned with the fact that she did not know what was causing his to seem so… bothered was not quite the word for it.

When he spoke again, she noted the harsher tone to his words.  His declaration that he needed to step outside, couple with the change in his actions and attitude, confused her slightly, but she drew no attention to that fact.  “By all means,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the exit to an outer courtyard of the library.  

She turned her attention away from Story for the time being, and left to retrieve the hair comb from her chambers, ultimately returning after a short while with the artifact in hand.  From there, she turned her attention to the several books he had removed from the shelves, revisiting their information until such time that Story returned and they could move along with what needed to be done.

Author: Story, Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2017 2:02 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

"Loss can do much to shape a person," Story intoned with great conviction. His crimson gaze was unnervingly hollow, and pierced straight through Dalanesca, through to unspoken events - mind adrift in the flow of time, floating amidst the very cosmos from which the dragon was born. The memories…they stung, but he would not speak of them to her at length. The Goddess knew enough of him for now. What was relevant now was her own pain, and also the pain she had caused.

Story could sense the analytical nature of his host's icy stare, but he said nothing of it. So complete was his stoic emotional control that he did not even have a tell in his expression or mannerisms. If there were any other agenda at play in his presence here, it would not be known.

"You will need a memento…not one that signifies your own pain, but the pain that you caused…the lives you took in your transformation. It is empathy you will require. So much, until you feel you cannot possibly hold the burden without breaking, or even reversing the shifting of the spheres."

He turned from her, eyes closed, and hand to bearded chin in thought. "That is a start."

Story's thoughts swam in a sea of voices….

"Where will we go?" a soft, frightened voice tugged at his heart strongs. "Your brothers know what you've done…they will come for us."

He heard Malchiah's familiar obnoxious voice. He also heard his other brothers, condemning him. The mobs that were the vampiric courts of their creation.

…Screams of agony…


Story realized his nails had partially changed in his unpleasant recollections, and were digging into his palm as he unconsciously clenched his fist. Droplets of blood fell from his hand, and fumed and sizzled maliciously when they hit the ground. He opened his eyes, and they shifted from reptilian back to humanoid. Smoke wafted from his nostrils as he tensely exhaled and paced about the library.

"There is no reversing of what has been wrought," the dragon said bitterly. "You need only understand it, and make peace with it. This, along with the proper physical means will unravel your binding. The Earth Mother is a master alchemist. With some study, we might come to understand the methods that were used."

"Excusez-moi, s'il vous plait," Story spoke in the tongue he was taught, breaking his accented common. "I must step away, into the open air. I've memories on this subject that trouble me."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2017 12:37 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Although she found his possession of other-worldly wings even while in his human form to be rather interesting, Dalanesca was quite glad when Story returned to the ground.  Noticing his hesitation, she stopped when he did, cocking an eyebrow with the sudden change in his tone.  While the connotation behind his statement was welcome, it took her slightly by surprise.  However, being who she was, her surprise was only momentary as she fired back quickly.  “I look forward to that discussion,” she said, a dark glint in her eyes.  Such a simple phrase carried so much more meaning when coupled with the theme of their conversation, but to the untrained ear would sound no more than an expression of anticipation.  She eyed him for a moment, unsure of exactly what underlying meaning his words carried… but very curious to find out.

When they entered the library, she found herself rather interested in his examination of the Mutes.  She could not get a sense of what his thoughts were at that time, but it did not matter much to her, not at that moment at least.  What would one expect, travelling into the Underworld?  Those that served her were not bound to be the most pleasant of creatures.  

When Story laid his hand on the Mute carrying the platter of beverages, it jumped a bit, not being used to guests making physical contact with them.  They mostly moved rather silently, remaining fairly unnoticed by anyone in the realm.  Dalanesca let out a bit of a laugh at the Mute’s reaction, but then focused her attention fully on Story as he looked through the tomes on the shelves.  

“I would not go so far as to say that,” she said, taking another sip of her drink.  “What I think of you is irrelevant at this point, unless it has a direct effect on what we’re going to discuss,” she said rather simply.  If she had chosen to be honest with Story, she was not quite sure what she thought of him.  He was incredibly interesting, especially with his capabilities, but there was something that she could not quite place her finger on.  She parted her lips to make a quip at the latter half of his comment, about indulgences, but she thought the better of it, given the nature of their conversation.  She eyed him as he removed a few of the books from their shelves, as though they were going to be pertinent to their impending discussion.

She laid a hand on one of the volumes he set in front of her, but did not flip the pages open - he was correct in his assumption that she had read them already, and their knowledge was known to her.  However, what remained unknown was the benefit that this knowledge would have on what they were going to attempt - what Story was going to attempt to help her with.  

She listened intently for the next few minutes at his explanation, and it all seemed to make sense to her, after a moment of contemplation.  She found herself in turn leaning towards him, intensely focused on each syllable that he spoke, storing the words in her mind.  Essentially, the way she understood his explanation was that she needed to harness the same amount of emotional energy that had caused the changing of her spheres and the crafting of her realm, and use that energy to break free of the chains that now confined her to Inferos.  Of course, a simple understanding of his explanation was not enough to complete the act - but it was a start.  

Her hand reached out to take the book of proverbs from him, and she grasped it, pulling it towards her.  She did not thumb through the pages, but she understood the meaning behind his offering of the book.  She gazed at him for a few silent moments, before finally speaking, the first time throughout his explanation.  “What wonder, that a being such as yourself happens across the divine to offer insight and guidance,” she said softly, her eyes still showing their bright blue.  “Perhaps this partnership, you helping me, and I in turn helping you, will be much more beneficial than I thought,” she added.  She had, of course, gleaned from their discussion that he was an intelligent being, but the explanation he had offered furthered that thought to another level.  

Silence permeated the air between the two, with her eyes never leaving him, studying his intent.  She looked for something that would give away his ulterior motive, but she could not find any hints as to what it was, besides the obvious that had already been stated.  She finally spoke, her voice evenly breaking the silence between them.  “So, the question is - and perhaps it is one that needs to be asked of myself - what do I need to do to focus this energy, this magic?” she asked, thoughtfully.  “Having been brought to that climax of emotion from such a traumatic event, I find myself wondering what it would take to emulate that once more.”

Author: Story, Posted: Tue Jan 24, 2017 2:40 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

"We have an accord," Story reiterated with a warm grin. As Dalanesca gestured in the direction of the library, he focused upon his ethereal wings, allowing them to dissipate and have his body drop the few feet that it hovered. He landed with poise, and paused before walking towards the corridor, clearly lingering on a thought. "Also…Anything?" he repeated. His eyes flashed with a myriad of mischiefs. "We may have to discuss what 'within reason' entails, at a later date," he coaxed, his tone suddenly very odd. Almost…venomous…and something else. If he was attempting at last to somewhat clumsily flirt back with her, he made no further indication of it in his demeanor.

Story observed the shambling familiars in the library with curiosity. He wasn't sure what he expected, here, of all places. Necromancy was not something he was unfamiliar with, but the sight of the bumbling things dug up still-fresh memories from their graves…of the sort that were none too pleasant. They reminded him somewhat of the thralls that Malchiah's court would enslave. Some of their master's requirements, however, dictated that the use of their mouth remained intact - unlike these hollows. He shivered at his thoughts, but still managed to very politely refuse either of the beverages offered to him. Despite the thing's state, he eccentrically spoke directly to the holder of the platter, rather than Dalanesca, and patted it on the shoulder.

"You must think me to be some sort of wandering ascetic," Story mused as he browsed the titles on the shelves before him. He removed two books on the subject of alchemy and laid them on the table before the goddess.
"In a sense, you would be correct. I indulge in nothing unless it suits me."
Story plucked a few more titles from Dalanesca's collection. One was on energy and vibration, and its relation to magic; another was on the creation of the worlds, and the last one was a collection of proverbs to live by.
"I've darker hungers than most can offer to satiate. I choose to ignore them for good reason."

Story paced around the library, and gestured at the books as the constructed his theories into sentences. "You can peruse those if you wish. No doubt you already have at some point. They are only for the purpose of illustrating and reinforcing my assertions."
He paced around to the front of her table, and regarded her for a few moments in silence, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Energy. Vibration," Story began. "Like many subtle forces, they are often overlooked in lieu of things that are much easier to understand. Alchemy, although it is a science, contains more of these concepts than most are aware of. In fact, all things can be understood if you know how to understand these two things. That is not what this is about, though. We are getting more specific."

He was quietly amused by the interplay of their constantly changing roles as he spoke. Here they were now, teacher and student, as Dalanesca listened with the utmost fascination and intensity. They had previously been goddess and lowly visiting wyrm. Then to a fantastic beast met with child-like wonder. There were surely many other dynamics between the lines that remained unacknowledged.

"Your bindings are not naturally occurring, to be sure. The metal is more than mere alloy-smithing to perfection so as to contain a Divine. There is magic at work as well. You already know this, but like my previous point, it is a fundamental that most overlook. The underlying force of magic is intent. It is will. There are emotions and offerings at play in things like this that have a certain vibration to them. Everything in the universe moves. It is a matter of knowing what plane or wavelength a thing exists in."

Story leaned on the table, closer to her. "You created an entire domain and forced the changing of the spheres with the energy you emanated. Now you must understand the pain that you caused, and place yourself in it in order to understand the bindings created to hold you."
He handed her the book of ancient cultural proverbs. "Understanding what constitutes a subtle body is just as important as discerning the physical elements it was crafted from. The latter is a far simpler process."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Tue Jan 24, 2017 11:50 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

She could tell, nearly instantly, that her change in demeanor had not fooled Story.  She was quickly realizing that he was quite perceptive, and this insight coupled with his words caused her to relax the tension in her shoulders slightly.  “You make a good point,” she said, giving him a sideways glance.   A hint of rose blushed her pale cheeks, and indication that she felt mildly embarrassed at the fact that her ruse had been foiled. His follow up statement gave her a bit of a laugh.  “You jest, but the majority of those who come to Porta Inferi barely make it past the River,” she said.  “Making it past that, as well as through the Circles… that shows some ambition,” she added.  Growing quiet for a moment, she found herself wondering if Story would have escaped the Circle that he had ended up in if she had not intervened.  For some reason, she thought the possibility was rather high.  

Amusement graced her visage as she watched him take flight once more, though she had to admit it was mildly disconcerting to see the ghostly wings sprout from his human form, something she was certainly not used to seeing.  Admittedly, it seemed like flying through the expanse of her own palace would be rather breathtaking, and she found herself envious of the ability.  Though her divinity gave her unmatched power, the gift of flight was not one of those things.  She noticed that his curiosity seemed particularly piqued by the few books that were scattered around the area - of course, something as ancient as he had to be coupled with the insight he carried… it would only make sense that books were an interest of his.  

As Story returned, hovering fairly near her, she watched him as he spoke.  Her eyes widened slightly, indicating that she was fully focused on what he was saying as soon as he spoke of freeing her.  He seemed rather confident that he would at least know where to begin, and his asking for a ‘momento’ seemed to further indicate that confidence.  “If you succeed in helping me break free of that which binds me here, you can - within reason - have whatever you want,” she said, the icy blue of her eyes shining brightly with her excitement.  “I will help you find this soul you seek, you can keep some of the binding, and you will be welcome to use Domus Tenebris as your home, for as long as you like, if you succeed in helping me,” she added, a promise to her words.  

“Perhaps we could head to the library, and you can fill me in on just what you think we need to get this process started?” she asked, gesturing towards the exit of the room that they were in.  She assumed that Story would accompany her, and made her way to the grand library that lay within her palace.  Large onyx tables were spread throughout, the shelved lined with an uncountable number of books.  A few of the Mutes, as she referred to them, milled about the room, and she called to the one nearest to bring them wine and whiskey, as well as tea, unsure of which Story preferred.  The Mute returned within minutes, placing the tray of beverages before them, and Dalanesca poured herself a small tumbler of the dark whiskey.  She gestured to Story to help himself, and sat down on one of the black silk upholstered chair.  

“So… where do we start?” she asked, as she took a sip.

Author: Story, Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2017 1:16 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Story, whether he was aware of it or not, seemed quite talented at masking outward displays of what was on his mind and in his heart. His soft crimson eyes did tell that his thoughts were a beehive of activity, but just what sort of activity was a mystery. He observed Dalanesca's tear fall in the short uncomfortable silence, and nodded solemnly when she at last voiced her promise of her end of the bargain.

As they walked from the garden and through the palace, Story had a full on laugh in his baritone that echoed through the halls. He gave the goddess a sidelong glance, still smiling. "As long as we are being frank, I think we are now on intimate enough terms to not throw up walls. Don't you think?"
The dragon made no indication that he could read minds. He was perhaps just very observant, and making reference to Dalanesca's rather sudden business-like tone with him…Something that apparently amused him past the point of his usual chuckle.
"Tit for tat hardly works without some level of trust. I thought the notion that I wandered here of my own volition alone might suffice," he teased.

Story paused, and closed his eyes. Gradually, two smaller, ethereal versions of the wings he possessed as a dragon protruded out from his back. They had the consistency of will-o-the-wisps, yet lent him the ability to take flight through the palace. He turned and tumbled through the air with grace and fluidity, and slowly circled around one of the massive silver and onyx pillars. Running his hand along the cool stone, he looked about at all of the various decor and tapestries in the palace, and seemed particularly fixated on any books that he could see lying about.

Resigning to hovering a short distance away from Dalanesca, Story tilted his hand, and twirled bits of his beard around his finger thoughtfully. "Freeing you is definitely no simple matter, but I've a good mind on where to start. I am perhaps getting ahead of myself, but as part of the agreement, could I perhaps keep a piece of the binding afterwards? As a memento."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 11:12 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

“No need for forgiveness,” Dalanesca said, rather briskly.  “I simply did not mean to give you the wrong impression,” she added, and there was a finality to her words, as though she would say no more on the matter.  His mention of understanding her isolation piqued her interest once more, but she insightfully determined that this was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion.  Perhaps, at a later juncture in time, she would be allowed to learn a bit more about Story’s past.

She regarded him with obvious interest as he situated himself into a comfortable position where she directed him.  Amazement still bounced about her mind periodically that this seemingly mostly-normal looking man in front of her had, just a short while ago, transformed into a magnificently terrifying creature, and then instantaneously back into his normal form. Of course, she was no stranger to magic, but shifting of any sort had always been rather interesting to her.  Until she had made Moliira’s acquaintance, she had never actually watched another being transform into any creature, magical or not.  She had worked rather closely with Blaine Wintercrest at that time, and had seen firsthand his capabilities at changing.  It was something she supposed one would get used to witnessing after time, but presently she still found it rather interesting.

Intently, Dalanesca listened to Story as he explained what it was that he hoped to gain from his partnership with the Goddess.  “Inferos has an innumerable amount of souls harbored within its circles,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she delved into thought, though she trailed off as Story began his further explanation as to why seeking out this particular soul would be important to him.  She fell silent, the more serious the words became, the more enthralled she was becoming in the story.  She knew how difficult what he spoke of was, how painful it was to be unable to forget anything - it was a side effect of her divinity.  Even memories that she had forgotten in her mortal life had been brought back strongly by her apotheosis.

The finale of his tale caused her eyes to burn, and she could feel the tears welling in her eyes, blinking them back furiously.  One escaped, trailing slowly down her porcelain skin.  Having just lost her child, essentially dying in her arms, and with the almost-certain death of Marth, the sadness in his tale was overwhelming.  The emotions that she had bottled up within herself were slowly working their way loose, and the tear that she shed was a testament to the fact that the Goddess could still, indeed, feel.  

A few moments of silence passed, while Dalanesca furitively contemplated what to say.  “If this soul is in Inferos, I will find it for you,” she said, simply, though her words offered a promise that would not be broken.  She fell silent once more, realizing that she had truly let her guard down in front of this stranger - a stranger who had just shown to be in possession of an immense amount of power; such a show was dangerous for the divine. 

With her composure mostly intact, Dalanesca spoke up again.  “However, if I assist you in this, you must know that I will, in turn, require something of you,” she said, her eyes looking towards the ceiling of the palace.  “I may be moved by the sadness of your tale, but this is still a tit for tat situation, if I may be so frank,” she added.  While the phrasing seemed more like her original demeanor when she had happened upon Story, there was a tone to her words that gave way to otherwise - whatever it was, she resolved that she would help him find this soul - but he would help her, in some way, to break free of the binds that held her in Inferos.

Author: Story, Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 4:37 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Story's disposition was bubbly and accepting - indeed, staunch stoicism seemed to have been replaced with overflowing mirth. This was possibly a product of his shifting, granted he had not taken what could be considered his true form in ages. Characteristic empathy dictated his tone however, which immediately settled into something more solemn. "Isolation is also something I understand well. Forgive my interpretation. My kind has always been very particular and measured when it comes to words."

Having nowhere else to be, as he came here with the purpose in mind of being here, Story walked alongside Dalanesca. He was comfortable walking in silence, and simply letting her speak when she was ready. He returned her smirk in good humor, though his amusement seemed to be towards some other subject entirely, for his mouth curled up long before they traded glances.

Sitting as per direction, across from the Goddess, Story lowered into the chair, crossing legs and leaning to one side. One hand mindlessly fiddled with his beard, with the other arm rested on its elbow. There was something implacable about the way he carried himself at all times that was decidedly regal, and the way he sat made this even more pronounced. This was most likely due to some sort of instilled mannerisms, and not an inflated ego.

"You do not feel I can do much for you…but you are shackled here in this place, are you not?" He quirked his eyebrows at her to emphasize what he was implying, anticipating any incredulous look she would give him. "I do not claim the power alone to break your bindings. I am old. Not divine. However…I know a great deal, I'm resourceful, and, most importantly, I walk freely and am here at your disposal. As for what I would require…"

Story uncrossed his legs and leaned forward into his clasping hands thoughtfully, unsure at first how to voice his request. "There is…a certain soul I wish to make contact with. I cannot say if she would have wound up in this realm, or elsewhere. I only wish for closure. Where I have failed in searching, I believe you would succeed."
He huffed, and smiled at her bitterly. "I suppose I should honor you with some sort of elaboration, as you have given me the same. I will preface it by saying there are times I wish I were entirely of this flesh," he said with a beat to his chest, and a sharp inhalation through his teeth. His eyes wandered upward along the black and celestial sunstone pallets of the palace as he found his composure.

"Mortal minds, as you well know, are blessed with a memory that mercifully fades and distorts with time. Dragons…not just my kind, but the race as a whole, are different in that everything remains remarkably fresh. It is how so many of us can hold grudges for an age, or fall prey to old passions, or…well. I think you might understand how difficult it must be to suppress anything negative."

Story cleared his throat.

"Suffice to say, being forced to watch as your lover is torn asunder in the most malicious of ways is a memory that would tend to linger and hold the stage over many others."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2017 11:44 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Dalanesca watched the dragon as he expanded his wings, moving about the garden a bit before.  She felt only a brief pang of worry that he was going to attack (though she would have been more than likely unscathed, being that it was her realm) before he reverted to his human form.  the remnants of his draconic state in his eyes as well as his mouth.  His comment was left unanswered for a brief moment, before she responded.  “I have plenty of tormented souls to be my servants.  I’ve no need to contract the living for such,” she said.  It was not a bragging tone, but simply a statement of fact.  “Any assistance I receive from you on any matters would be due to your willingness to assist, not to my command,” she said, the words clearly a reassurance that she understood what he was saying.  

She kept her astonishment at the quickness of his change and reversion to his human self fairly shielded behind a stoic face.  She eyed him with curiosity at his next statement, and it dawned on her that her words had been taken in full seriousness, when she had meant them mostly in jest.  “Flattery is not my intention,” she said simply.  “The words that I speak are out of playfulness, rather than desire,” she said.  “Understand that I am here alone, confined to my realm currently,” she said, and there was a hint sadness to her words as well as her gaze.  The icy tones of her blue eyes had dulled slightly, and it was clear that this revelation of loneliness was something she was trying to suppress.  

She remained silent for a short while, looking away from Story and casting her gaze about the garden.  Thoughts of Marth as well as her precious Katja shimmered in her memory, but she pushed them away.  Though she was in such an angered state, she was still quite capable of pain and emotion, and she was afraid if she spent too much time dwelling on the past she would show that emotion, regardless of her claim to being indifferent.  Her eyes still cried tears for the loss of her loved ones when no one could see.

“Walk with me,” she said, rather briskly, though it was clear that the it was an invitation rather than a command.  Story was free to leave her realm at any time, as far as she was concerned.  When he agreed, however, she was rather pleased, and insisted that he walk at her side rather than behind her.  She found him very interesting, and she was keen to learn a bit more about him.  She led him to the palace entrance, headed for one of the sitting rooms.  “I feel that a partnership could be mutually beneficial,” she finally said, after a few moments of silence between the two.  “I am sure there are many things that I can offer you, just as I am sure there are many things that you can offer me.  I would not expect anything from you without some sort of reciprocity, just as I am sure you know that you would not receive anything from me without something in return,” she added.  “And no, that time there was no innuendo attached,” she added with a bit of a smirk.  

The palace resembled most traditional gothic architectures, save that it was crafted entirely of black stones and sunstones.  When the pair reached the sitting room that Dalanesca had deemed their destination, it was peppered with a few pieces of furniture, all of crimson velvet.  She chose a chair, which circled a small onyx table along with another chair and a small sofa.  “Please, sit,” she said, gesturing towards the empty place.  “Perhaps we can discuss what it is that we can do for one another,” she said rather simply.  She felt that Story had been rather ambiguous at explaining why he had come to her realm, other than the teardrop that he had found, and she found herself growing more curious with each passing minute.

Author: Story, Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 6:32 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Dalanesca's continued flirtation made the dragon snort. Not with disgust, it seemed, but rather, amusement. He shied away from voicing whatever private joke occupied his thoughts. Story reared up, shifting his weight and folding his effervescent wings to a relaxed state. "It is the purpose which I have chosen for myself…to serve others," the dragon explained. "Call it repentance, or whatever you wish. I have lived for a very long time. My race were some of the first dragons to exist, spawned from the primordial darkness itself. In essence, this would align me with you and your sphere…"
Deep rumbling in the creature's throat and belly gave way to what could only be described as a draconic chuckle. "Not that I have ever concerned myself with trivial matters such as a banner to fall under."

"No…" the dragon muttered, swiftly turning on its haunches, and deftly maneuvering about the garden. Story retreated to the space cut off from the main overlook, so as to stretch his massive frame. It had been many ages since being in this state, and he had to re-acquaint himself with it. "It is your anguish that brought me here," he said with a growl of conviction. "It is your anguish that fashioned this place, and forced the changing of the spheres."

Story stretched out his wings, and with a single beat, the gusts carried him with a monumental crash to the edge of the railing, where he craned his head back towards the Goddess. "Pain is something that I understand, and something that interests me. Especially from one such as yourself. Make no mistake, though…"
The dragon reared back, as if to roar, or to unleash an elemental assault with its breath. Nothing came, though. Nothing save Story, the man, instantaneously transported in front of Dalanesca once more with his reversion of form. His face was inches away from hers. The menacing red glow had not yet left his eyes, and his grin sported prominent fangs. "Choosing to serve does not make one a servant," he emphasized to her, some of the depth of his draconic tone still lingering.

Taking a step back from Dalanesca, Story closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Upon exhaling and opening his eyes, they reverted to their original soft crimson-brown hue. "Mon cher…" he mused, biting at his lip thoughtfully. His pleasant, accented voice had returned now as well. "You know not what you ask when you flatter so readily, nor in what you may imply with any assumptions as to what you just witnessed. I can do a great many things for you…not without expecting in return, of course. Leave my heart strings out of things, and the symphony of a brief partnership can sound, uninhibited."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 3:08 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

“Apologies do nothing to change what has taken place, and you have not offended me in the slightest.”  Her voice was rather even, giving the intensely personal recollection she had just shared with him.  It hadn’t taken much of an emotional toll on the goddess, as she was already feeling rather empty.  She gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment of the mention of being honored by her sharing, but said no more on the matter.  When Story questioned her about her motives behind attacking Angela, she looked at him for a moment, her eyes hard, the flash of crimson returning.  She said nothing, only staring at him in response.  She could have answered him, of course, but she was still unsure how to put her thoughts into coherent phrases.

“If I’m unbound, she will perish,” she said, simply, the she, of course, referring to Angela Rose.  “There’s nothing to it besides that,” she added, the crimson fading from her eyes.  

A smirk formed on Dalanesca’s lips as at long last she drew some sort of reaction from her visitor, as was the end goal of her continued comments.  Truthfully, he was rather pleasing to the eye and she would not have been upset , but she took amusement in watching people become rather uncomfortable. 

Dalanesca’s eyebrow cocked once more at Story’s use of the word ‘form.’  She had gathered that he was not human, but when he spoke this it provoked her interest even further than it already had been.  “Now I’m curious,” she said, her voice quiet and breathy.  She took a step back from him and turned, making her way back to the bench she had been sitting on before.  She reclined a bit, her arms draped over the back of the bench on either side of her, waiting to see what happened.

The goddess’s lips parted slightly as Story transformed before her eyes, giving way to what he truly was.  Her eyes widened, matching the surprised expression that had begun to cross her visage.  She watched in particular awe as the ‘man’ before her transformed into his true form - that of a dragon.  She had most certainly not expected that.

When Story spoke to her in his draconic voice, she just stared at him, her eyes truly expressive of her surprise.  She glanced around herself, at the dragon’s tail coiled about her, and at his immense form taking up a majority of the empty space in her garden.  She found herself rather impressed that he had managed not to damage a single one of her plants, or any of the structures.  The creature before her was absolutely beautiful, and she rose to her feet, admiring the intricacies of his scales. 

No fear crossed her face as she moved closer still to the dragon, who still remained at eye level.  She had never found herself face to face with such a creature, and especially not in a capacity that was non threatening.  Story was marvelous to her, and she reached out her hand, bringing it to gently caress the scales of the dragon’s snout, coming to a soft rest at the end..  “Simply amazing,” she breathed, and for a few short moments all memories of the hatred and anger for Angela Rose that were burning inside of her dissipated, her focus now only on Story and his true form.

She seemed to snap herself out of her reverie, pulling her hand away and taking a few steps back.  After a few moments, she finally spoke.  “I’m… impressed, to say the least,” she said, and there was something different to her voice.  It was as though watching Story’s transformation had distracted her enough from her grief that she had returned to her demeanor from before she had taken on the changes of her spheres, if only momentarily.  Snapping back to her old self, she smirked again.  “And while I can think of many… enjoyable ways you could serve me in your human form… I think you could be very useful in this form.”  She paused, and it was clear that she was at a bit of a loss for words. 

Eventually, she managed to voice what she was thinking.  Why would a creature of such capability and strength want to serve someone?  She found herself asking that question over and over, but unable to think of a way to ask it.  “Why are you so keen to serve me?” she finally questioned him, deciding on bluntness rather than eloquence.

Author: Story, Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2017 11:36 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Contrasting the pair in their interaction from afar, Story seemed reserved in the extreme compared to Dalanesca. While this very well could allude to a deficiency in emotions or ulterior motives, Story was an exception, and a contradiction. There was absolutely no evidence that the man was mincing his words, or amending his behaviors in any way. Indeed, he seemed capable of great depth of feeling, and was actually rather candid…if only somewhat alien, in his choices of action and reaction at times.

Story chuckled softly. "Some habits, they are as sticky as honey, and age without spoiling like it as well," was all he said to her comment about his bow. He met her cold and confused gaze with a rather ominous look in return. "I see with more than just my eyes, mon cher."

Wishing to exercise empathy in his waiving of Dalanesca's explanation as to her current state, Story nonetheless listened very intently as she elaborated upon her sorrow. His crimson-tinted gaze was soft as he considered her, watching as she spoke. His eyes held compassion, and probably more, but gleaning anything about his state of mind or intentions seemed near impossible without him voicing it, or the one so curious to invade his thoughts.

Story brought his hand to his heart and bowed his head to her. "I am deeply sorry to hear this about your family," he sympathized. "Forgive me if I offended you with my discretion. I…did not wish for you to revisit what made the tear that brought me here, for we only just met; though you honor me by sharing it. Merci."
He cocked his head to the side, and his tone suddenly changed in an indescribable way. "In the aftermath of it all…what did you hope to accomplish by attacking your sister Goddess? Was it punishment for her neglect, or something else?"

The choice of words was a dangerous prospect, but Story seemed far from condescending. He was genuinely curious.
"If unbound, would you reconcile with her, or continue the assault?"
He again displayed knowledge gleaned by his other sight, whatever that may be, with his implications.


Story did, at last, react to the Goddess' use of innuendo. It was only a rather demure chuckle in response, however, as if to wordlessly comment that she knew not what she asked of him. "I shall show you, of course. Allow me a moment. I have retained the form you see for a very, very long time."



The subtle details were the first to be altered.
As story closed his eyes, and lowered to his knees, taking several deep breaths, his presence seemed to expand through the entirety of the space - as though he were astral projecting. Deep rumbling shook the garden. It could be mistaken for a quake at first, but the tremors were in fact…growls. It could be expected that this might give way to some sort of grotesque physical display of metamorphosis before Dalanesca's eyes, but the transformation soon proved to be wrought entirely by magic. The man that knelt before her was gone, and something else took shape, coiling about the goddess, and the majority of the garden pavilion.


Scales. Thousands of dark, ebony scales, glittering as though speckled by star dust. Claws, gripping the railings of the pavilion, scraping across stone and earth. Something serpentine coiled around Dalanesca…a tail. The tail led up to the spined back of a massive, ancient umbral dragon. It spread its bat-like wings, and the membranes seemed to glow, even in the half-light of the goddess' realm, as though colorful nebulae were contained within their expanse. It lowered its head down to look her eye to eye. The crimson in Story's eyes was all that shown now, burning brilliantly within the reptilian skull, which was crowned by arcing, stag-like horns. Despite the creature's immense size, it had a surprising amount of poise and grace, careful not to tread upon the plants, break any decor, or to crush its host beneath its bulk. It gingerly coiled itself about the garden, centered upon Dalanesca.

"How may I serve thee?" the dragon's deep bass voice boomed. Gone now was the accent that Story possessed as a man; though the voice was unmistakably his.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2017 2:34 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Dalanesca cocked an eyebrow at him as he bowed, and she noted just how old-fashioned of an action it was.  She said nothing to this, waiting until he introduced himself.  “Story,” she said, repeating his name in a low voice, barely above a whisper.  “The bowing.  It’s rather unusual, these days,” she said, a hint of curiosity to her words.  There was something she found inherently interesting about him, but she had no way of knowing what that thing was.  When he came to sit next to her at her invitation and showed her the tear, her eyes widened.  “My sorrow?” she said, reaching a hand out as if to touch the thing that he held, but pulling it back quickly.  “How in the nine circles would you know what created this…” Her question trailed off at the end, and it was not peppered with anger as one might think.  She brought her gaze, its normal icy blue, back to look at Story, where she studied him for a few moments rather silently before he rose from his seat and walked about the garden.

She watched him, the question about who, or rather what he was quite obvious in her eyes.  Normally, when she brought a traveller to Inferos into Paradiso Venenum, they looked terrified.  There were innumerable things in that garden that could kill someone within seconds of even touching them - but Story did not even look mildly concerned.  When he spoke, questioning her in turn, her eyes cast a light of surprise towards him.  It was rather clear that he was not scared of her in the slightest, but that was not something she was used to.  Those who came to Domus Tenebris, to the palace in which she made her home deep within the tenth circle of Inferos, generally reeked of fear  This one, this Story…. He did not.  

Staring at him, Dalanesca found herself unsure of how to answer, before he spoke once more.  His words did little to relieve the surprise that she felt, but now managed to couple it with confusion.  After another minute or so, she finally spoke, choosing her words rather carefully.  She did not want to give way that she was befuddle by him, but she could sense that he was intelligent enough that he would figure it out on his own.  If he wanted to know why the change had come to her spheres, she would simply tell him why.

“What do I want… well, let’s start with what you want to know.  I was madly in love.  Married, in fact.  Loved that man more than anything… and then, I was carrying his child.  Angela Rose,” she said, pausing as a flash of crimson crossed her eyes, the rage audible in her voice as she spoke her fellow Triune’s name.  “She promised me that she would help me, if anything were to go wrong.  Of course, being divine in nature, the likelihood of that was rather low - that, she assured me of,” she said, her eyes still holding a deep red color, though it was now beginning to fade back to her regular blue.  “My husband went out on a patrol - and he never came back… this was mere weeks before it was thought my child would be born.”  

She stood from the bench and walked towards Story, until she was standing fairly close to him.  “Five days after he went missing, I went into labor… and the child was lost.  Angela Rose did not come, even though I called to her… By the time she felt she could spare a moment, it was too late.  My child died before I could even hold her.”  Her eyes remained fairly void of emotion as she reached to her right and plucked a Nightshade flower, rolling its petals back and forth between her fingers.  “Does that answer your question?” she asked, giving him a cold look.

She walked a bit away from him, looking back at him over her shoulder much in the manner she had beforehand.  When she was a few feet away, she turned, facing him once more.  “What would qualify you to serve Death?” she asked, and the question was peppered with more than one feeling - curiosity, incredulity, rage, even lust.  She eyed him up and down - he seemed young, though his mannerisms and language gave way to another explanation.  “I could think of a few ways for you to… serve me,” she said, her lips pulling back into a devilish smirk, the connotations behind her words not without mild seriousness.  “Please, show me what it is that makes you worthy.”  There were a few ways in which she thought this Story could serve her, and not all of them were strictly in terms of serving the realm.  However, she felt that there was a bit more than met the eye with this one.

Author: Story, Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2017 12:25 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Malchiah had always been hot-tempered in life. The entity that dwelt here was accurate in its portrayal of him, even in this regard. Story felt a little anxious about the concept of having his memories and life probed so deeply. There was not much he could do about it now, though. He had chosen to come here, to this broken Goddess' realm.
Story paced carefully around his brother and ancient enemy, evading Malchiah's swinging scimitars with relative ease. His swordplay was erratic, in his anger; it always had been. It was as if he had never taken fully to retaining a mortal frame. The beasts that they all were was the strongest in him.

Story's hand remained on the hilt of his sword, though he never drew it. He finally did, once, upon a misstep, to parry the scimitars as they both swung downward. The draw was quick, and he quickly re-sheathed the blade after deflecting the blow. Concentrating for a moment after staggering Malchiah with the parry, he drew quickly once more, performing a wide slash. The blade sang loudly, and flames darted out from the slash, as the blade then dripped with its user's own blood. Malchiah narrowly avoided the attack, but was still singed by the flames. Whatever the demon was, it broke character somewhat following the strange hemomantic technique, hesitating. His real brother would not be phased by such a thing.

"What's the matter?" Story chuckled condescendingly, panting softly form the exertion. He had forgotten just how painful that technique was. Despite the sword only existing in this realm, it felt very real. "You dictate the rules that apply here, and you made the mistake of allowing me to fight on my own terms, with things from my own history. Seems a touch short-sighted, no?"

He would not get an answer. In an instant, Malchiah, the suffering souls around them, and the ruined village was gone. There was only an all-consuming blackness.

He felt her before he saw her.

Dalanesca's presence was overpowering. He could discern her, as he turned towards her voice, for the void she created was not entirely bereft of light. He did not speak or react until she had transported them to some sort of garden, filled with colorful and deadly delights.

Story turned on his heel, putting his left foot forward, and his his left arm across his chest. He lowered into a bow, extending his right hand out to the side, palm up, fingers splayed into some sort of sign. It was a very antiquated gesture, common in courts of bygone centuries. "You may call me Story, mademoiselle," he began. He rose to his feet, and kept a respectful distance as she sat, until he was motioned over. "I happened across a fragment of your sorrow," Story answered simply, taking the tear from his pocket and showing it to the Goddess. He chuckled softly. "So…yes. I suppose in a sense, I am here entirely for your benefit, having followed the thread here. Curiosity is a deadly thing."

Aforementioned curiosity was what had Story rise from the bench, pacing about the garden to admire the various flora, and the basin filled with deadly venom. He turned calmly to Dalanesca as she skeptically inquired of his desires. While her tonality and mood seemed tempestuous and ever-changing, Story was almost unnervingly even-handed. His crimson-brown gaze remained neutral as he considered her. If he were a gambling man, he would most certainly be able to bluff with ease. He was not afraid of her. This much was clear. The nature of his interest in her was only voiced with his next words:
"What is it that you want?" he repeated the question back to her. It did not show either way if he was aware of the absurdity of asking a goddess such a thing.

"I will not inquire of the metrics, the why…however…with the changing of the spheres, I would essentially be your servant now, all things considered."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2017 4:48 PM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Before the chains of Lacrimarium had confined Dalanesca to Porta Inferi and Inferos, she held little desire to leave her realm other than to establish another line of sight on Angela Rose and her realm.  Now that she could not leave, no matter how hard she struggled and no matter how much Hellfire she cast into the skies of Revaliir, she wanted nothing more than to get out.  She found herself going stir crazy, and while she held control over the souls trapped in Inferos, the Lacrimarium was strong enough that it stopped her from sending her ‘minions’ to the surface.  She had tried, but each time she had failed and the aura surrounding the magical chains, as they were, seemed to sap her power more each time.  

With her confinement, she had to find means to pass the time when she was not attempting another onslaught on the surface.  Occasionally, she found herself visiting one of the Nine Circles of Inferos.  Sometimes, she would join in on the torture of those poor souls who found themselves there; other times she would simply sit by and watch what was happening.  This particular day, she chose to watch, and the sixth circle happened to be her choice.  No sooner had she arrived, not visible to any souls living or perished in the circle, did she see someone - a living someone - facing the ghosts of the Circle.  She eyed the individual, but she could not discern what he was.  Male, of course, and most certainly not human though he did appear as such.  She found him curious, and as such stood by, watching to see what was to unfold.

She could see the astonishment on his face as he realized just how real things were down there, and it was at this point that she had nearly decided to let this battle go until the end - until he spoke, of course.  At this point, with a wave of her hand, darkness consumed the Circle.  The ghosts of his sins were gone, and Dalanesca stepped forward, a soft red glow emitting from her form.  “Death always wins,” she said, though her statement was not matched a smirk.  It was a truth of life - in the end, unless one was truly an immortal, Death always won.  She eyed the newcomer up and down for a moment, her icy blue eyes nearly glowing in the almost-darkness.  “You’ve come here seeking an audience with me, have you not?” she asked, having been able to discern as much without speaking.  Anything beyond that would take either his cooperation or her torture to get out of him.  “If that is the case, this is not the place in which we will converse.  Come,” she said, and stepped forward, placing a hand on his forearm.  Blackness engulfed them, and they now found themselves in Paradiso Venenum, her prized garden of poisonous plants.  

Normally, she would put him to some sort of task - perhaps ingesting poison, or bathing in the nectar of one of the deadly flowers.  However, she found this individual both interesting and aesthetically pleasing.  More than anything, she wanted to know just what he was.  Walking away from him slowly and turning to look at him over her shoulder, and spoke.  “I am Dalanesca.  I am the Reaper of Souls, Harbinger of Darkness… et cetera, et cetera.  But you know that, don’t you?” She reached her destination - an onyx bench, and sat, motioning for him to join in the spot next to her.  “The real question is who are you?  Why have you come to Inferos?  Porta Inferi is a dangerous place for those who are still living… even more dangerous than it is for those who have already met Death.”  She narrowed her eyes a bit.  “I’m guessing you did not come to this place just for my entertainment,” she said.  With a slow motion, her tongue slid out to wet her lips, and she spoke in a rather playful tone.  “Not to say I wouldn’t complain,” she said, her eyes looking at him in a rather crude manner.  The playfulness left as suddenly as it had arrived, and she spoke in a solid tone, her eyes deepening to near-black.  “What is it that you want?”

Author: Story, Posted: Mon Jan 9, 2017 2:55 AM, Post Subject: Following A Tear (P, R)

Left to his own devices following his release from Tarishitar's prison, Story did not take long to become fixated on a purpose. While traveling with Cessair, his former cell mate, and Bryony, the Oracle that freed them, he had come across a strange crystal in the sands of Arri.

It was a tear…

Not only for its droplet shape - the stone itself was a tear. Anyone with even rudimentary preternatural senses could confirm this. Story's eyes saw something else in the odd thing: a thread of light, a fleeting thing…only a hair, guiding anyone sensitive enough to see it to the source of the anguish that produced it. Curiosity brought him to the docks in the late evening. Still wearing only the simplest of garb, and the white cloak gifted to him by the Sularian bath house, Story boldly stepped onto the unmanned boat. He had brought a lantern, which he held out to try and see through the thick fog. This proved futile, and he soon placed it in the port of the boat next to him as he sat.

The calm drifting of the little boat out into the quiet waters was almost enough to lull one to sleep. Story's vigilance did wane, but quickly waxed when the boat came to a sudden stop. The flame in he lantern went out. There was no wind.

Just then, the boat traveled straight downward. It seemed impossible, especially at this intense velocity, but Story reacted quickly enough to grab the sides of the boat, so as to keep himself in. The downward race became a spiral, and Story found himself flung over the edge just as the pull stopped. The little boat splashed into a river, and the turbulent typhoon seemed to fade, giving way to a bright brimstone sun, and endless fields alongside either bank of the river. The boat did not wait for its occupant, and this was fine. Gliding softly down by the aid of phantom wings, Story landed safely in the boat, and the shadowy aspect coming from his back dissipated.

Despite the horror of the descent, and the grim atmosphere that now surrounded him, Story laughed, and took the tear drop from his pocket to look at it once more. "Of course it is. Why hadn't I seen it before?" he mused to himself aloud.

While it was tempting to try and reach the gates by his own means, he was aware he now resided in a deity's realm, and he would abide by their rules. Should he try to leave the confines of the boat, it might not end well for him, even if he never touched the water below. Thus, he sat patiently, experiencing the throes of emotion that overtook him with each passing flora. Through the indescribably, inescapable denial, anger, regret, want, and serene sadness, he had to constantly remind himself that he yet lived. This was little comfort, for there was plenty of matters, near forgotten now, for him to feel this intensely for. When the symphony of feeling came to its crescendo of utter hopelessness, Story focused the feeling on the Goddess that resided here. His heart hurt for any creature that would express themselves in such a way.

When the sphere of this Goddess changed…she did not just experience these horrible things. She became them.

Story had little time to contemplate the being with which he wished to speak. Nor did he have any time to rue over his own demons…for he was soon confronted with them.

As the burning gates opened to him, the familiar sensation of descent overtook him once more. This time, there was no threat of being plunged into some river of the damned. What he was plunged into was a sea of voices…all speaking at once, so making out anything in the garbled mess was impossible. Story opened his eyes, though he did not remember closing them. His soft crimson-brown gaze beheld an almost alien landscape. There was sparse plant life that sprang from the blood-red soil. What was existent seemed to be wreathed in some sort of ever-burning but un-consuming flames. The field in which he stood seemed to narrow out as he went on, leading to a desecrated village. Stones from ruined structures lined the soil in every direction. People were here, but seemed to ignore his presence here on the whole. Many assumed positions of quiet agony, clawing at their ears, or dashing their heads upon stones.

Silence from the souls Story saw soon was no mystery; for he realized that none of them could speak. Was it their disembodied voices that flooded this forsaken place?

There was one that stood out from them all, standing near a crumbled well in the center of the square. It was a man, dressed in regal garb, with tones of red and gold. He had eyes similar to Story's own, but the crimson tone in them was far more pronounced. Also in contrast, he had no beard, and was young and fresh-faced. He was armed with two scimitars, in sheathes at his sides.

"Malchiah," Story spoke, cautiously taking a step back. "C'est impossible…Frere, your soul cannot be here, for it was bound."

"Yes, frere Thorn. Bound. By your hand," the apparition accused.

"I know not what game this is, but I shall not play it. You are not real," Story spat, shaking his head.

Reaching to his side, Malchiah, or the thing that pretended to be the man by that name withdrew a third sheathed weapon, and threw it at Story's feet in the dust. It was a katana, but had a cross guard rather than a disc guard, and had many features more in line with a saber. It was housed in a rather ornate golden sheath, marked with runes and tied with a red sash.

"Real enough to try you for your heresy," Malchiah said with conviction. "Pick up your sword."

Story sighed heavily with indignation. "You know very well I never stood with any of you in contacting mortals, or turning them."

"…and yet you stood with them in their courts, going along with the charade and acting as their guide. You were the ruin of us all. PICK UP YOUR SWORD."

The Goddess' realm did not cease to astound Story. He picked up the weapon as he was commanded. The feel of the hilt and pommel, the weight, every intricate detail…it was exactly as his sword had been. He knew it wasn't real, but it was real enough for this moment, and in this realm. He wondered how true to its design it truly was…if he could use its power one last time? He donned the blade around his waist and lowered his stance as he paced around Malchiah, who drew his twin scimitars.

"You could never best me in life. What makes you think you can in death?" Story taunted.