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Post by Alissia Syrkhan on May 10, 2015 17:29:23 GMT -5
Alissia made sure that she didn’t visibly hesitate to reach out and clasp the Intercessor's hand in friendly greeting, but that in no way meant that the Marru'Khyran operative wasn’t apprehensive. Sabreíl was a presence that appeared larger than life: the woman shared that trait with Alissia’s father, and the woman had not yet spent enough time around her father, and other beings of immense power, not to be made to feel small by their presence. Alissia’s insides clenched, as if she could force herself to become a bigger and stronger presence through sheer physical will, but despite her unease, her exterior remained mostly calm, and she squeezed Sabreíl’s hand firmly until the Intercessor herself let go.
“Your position, that of Intercessor, no longer exists within the hierarchical structure of the Empire. So, while it’s not relevant to any official capacity now, the position was one of great importance, and therefore deserving of respect.”
Alissia smiled cordially to the woman’s assertion. She was right, in a way: Corvaelan didn’t often give consideration to those who no longer swore him allegiance, but somehow Sabreíl was different. The agent wasn’t sure of the whole story, but she got the sense that the Oracle’s departure was a complicated issue, both for her and the Emperor, and she had always gotten the distinct impression that he bore the woman no ill will, and still held a lot of respect for her. However, speaking for her father was a dangerous proposition, one that Alissia was intent on avoiding.
”I won’t try and assume what the Emperor thinks. As far as I’m concerned, though, your title continues to be deserved.”
The woman fought to keep her cheeks from coloring at Sabreíl’s assertion, revealed by Jera, as to her opinion on the two women’s previous topic of conversation. However, slight blush or no, Alissia tipped her chin upwards and intentionally looked Sabreíl right in the eye as she responded.
“What legends any one person believes or doesn’t is up to them, I think. But personally, I don’t like to discount anything as impossible unless I am sure it is. When the world is so full of mysteries, I’ve been proven wrong too many times when I’m certain about something.”
The white-haired young woman intentionally caught Jera’s eye and flashed her a toothy smile and a wink before raising her hand to gain the attention of one of the bar servers. Alissia would remain standing as Sabreíl and Jera took their places at the table until she had repeated their orders to the server and their drinks were on the way to the table. Finally, when she saw the drinks coming, Alissia finally sat back down, carefully smoothing and situating her coat behind her on the chair as the two other women got acquainted with their drinks, which, as she had requested, would be a stiff, clear rum for Jera and a Scotch for Sabreíl. The youngest Syrkhan daughter took a quick sip of her own drink before she would make any further attempt to begin speaking – she needed a brief moment to survey the situation first. Alissia knew that she would stand out, even in a place like Tamryn, with her black bodysuit visible for all to see, sans identifying insignias or no, but the choice not to invest in clothing more suited to local fashion had been a semi-practical one: given Sabreíl’s reputation the chance of Alissia escaping all notice while meeting the woman in a public place was nearly impossible, and therefore she just had to hope her own strangeness would go largely unnoticed in the face of the giantess’ own peculiarities. So far, that plan seemed to be working: plenty of bar patrons were taking careful glances in Sabreíl’s direction, but very few took the time to notice either Alissia or Jera. Additionally, though it attracted more attention, Alissia’s manner of dress lent a certain degree of legitimacy to her mission, a legitimacy that she hoped would help in some way sway the Intercessor to her way of thinking. The Marru'Khyran agent wasn’t anticipating a great deal of resistance, but she had found that it was always better to try and hold on to whatever strategic advantage she was able to grab: it was impossible to tell which one would make the difference between success and failure.
The woman set her drink down at Sabreíl’s question, fer features falling serious all at once. The woman had been hoping for a bit more of a lead-in with which to soften Sabreíl up, but clearly the Intercessor wasn’t one to mince words. That meant Alissia would be forced to get straight to the point, though she knew she had to pick her moments carefully. For a brief moment, Alissia's blue eyes slid to meet Jera’s in order to give a small smile to the girl, but they quickly drifted back to the Oracle’s emerald gaze, and the agent’s face settled into a mask of professional hardness. Alissia’s voice dropped.
”The reason I have asked you here is because I am in need of assistance in finding someone: a fugitive, one capable of a great deal of destruction and potential innocent casualties. My charge from the Emperor is to bring this person, and their associates, who we believe are even more dangerous, back to the Capital, or at least track them to the point where additional forces can be dispatched to apprehend them before they do any more damage. I have reason to suspect that the fugitive I am after either is or has recently been in Tamryn: that is why I am here. When I learned that you were in Tamryn also, I remembered how highly the Emperor spoke of your honor and commitment to helping others; therefore, I wish to ask for your aid in finding, and potentially apprehending, my quarry.”
Not realizing that she had been unconsciously leaning forward while she was speaking, Alissia slowly reclined her body back into her chair after she finished speaking, taking a deep breath and letting her words settle for a moment before she continued.
”I will certainly understand if you do not wish to get involved, and I wouldn’t bear you any ill will if you do not want to help me. But, I know my mission will be much more successful, and have a much greater chance of taking this fugitive without incident or civilian casualties, if you assist me.”
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Post by Jera on Jun 22, 2015 12:41:43 GMT -5
Jera wasn't intentionally tuning out most of the exchange between Savryn and Sabreíl, that just happened to be what was going on. At least, until Savryn chose to address the redhead about her disturbing lack of belief in the Emperor's legendary lineage. The Halfblood was more than mildly distracted by the faint flush that crept onto Savryn's cheeks― Jera's expression shifted as she looked over the other white-haired woman's features. Not for the first time did the younger woman realize the Celesin operative was really pretty and the heat in her own cheeks rose in response. When Savryn caught her eye and winked, the flush darkened instantly and Jera couldn't keep her eyes from widening. The Halfblood bit down on the inside of her lower lip and flashed Sabreíl a see-I-told-you-so look. If giant women could exist so could dragons.
Jera's posture straightened and her gaze dropped to the floor long enough so she could regroup and coax her pulse to slow just a bit. Fortunately, the drinks arrived in short order and provided a much-needed focus Jera could use to busy herself with. Golden eyes examined the clear liquid set down in front of her― her hypersensitivity to scent immediately letting her know whatever was in that glass was strong, but sweet. Ignoring the other two for a moment a gloved hand cautiously picked up the tumbler and brought it closer. She stopped just short of a second inhale, her eyes narrowing a touch. Her gaze swept the table as her spine stiffened. The scent made her wary, but she was determined to handle her drink as gracefully as Savryn had. Besides, it couldn’t be that awful, could it?
Maybe just a tiny taste to start?
Jera watched closely as Savryn took a quick sip and mimicked her motion.
The instant the strongly-scented liquor touched her tongue Jera's eyes widened and her cheeks tightened. Doggedly she swallowed the mouthful, her cheeks catching fire and eyes beginning to water at the same time. Her stare dropped to the worn wood of the table as she carefully set the glass down and struggled with every ounce of resolve in her body not to gag or cough.
The tiniest, "ahem," cleared her throat and she was convinced she was going to suffocate on the fumes of the alcohol alone. It was good fortune that Savryn and Sabreíl were otherwise occupied: if the liquor didn't kill Jera the embarrassment at her reaction would.
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Post by Sabreíl on Sept 10, 2015 18:56:16 GMT -5
“A fugitive.”
Sabreíl’s words weren’t phrased as a question, but instead a statement of fact that was followed by a long stretch of silence. The Intercessor kept her emerald eyes locked on the woman opposite her and took a slow series of sips of her drink, letting the silence hang in the air as she cast a slight, knowing smile in Jera’s direction as the youngling discovered the harsh reality of adult beverages.
Something about what Savryn had said was troubling Sabreíl, and it took the woman a moment to sort through her thoughts on the matter: substantially longer than usual, in fact, and that made the tension in the room only grow. In truth, it was two separate things that were bothering the Nephilim: the content and meaning of Savryn’s words, and the issue of who Savryn herself was.
While ‘fugitive’ is meant to seem a clear indicator of intent, with Corvaelan as its adjudicator, the word’s meaning becomes complicated. We could easily be labeled the same way. But how much does she know about her emperor? This one carries the air of a believer. Her reasons are unknown, but she follows her ruler’s lead: she may have not been given cause yet to question. Then the question of who she is becomes more important: why she is operating for Marru'Khyr will tell us a lot about what she might do.
The redheaded Intercessor tipped her head to the side slightly as she looked Savryn over extremely carefully. The resemblance was uncanny, but the woman’s mannerisms and voice were wrong for an agent of Marru'Khyr: in fact, the silver-haired operative might have been more at home right where they were at the current moment than she would in the sky city, if Sabreíl were to judge her solely on accent and vocal mannerisms.
“Savryn is a name native to Vascxious Sigma, isn’t it? Did you choose it to blend in? If so, your accent is very convincing.”
Undoubtedly, Savryn would be displeased with the manner in which Sabreíl seemed to bypass her supposedly-earnest plea for official help, but the Intercessor was determined to get to the bottom of the situation long before she made any decision to assist the girl. Leaning forward just slightly, Sabreíl took another long, slow sip of her drink and cast an eye to watch Jera’s reaction briefly before she turned her full attention on Savryn, following up her question with an exploratory statement that began walking the conversation down the path that Sabreíl intended it to tread.
“Assuming your identity is affected, you demonstrate a depth of commitment to blending in that is highly uncharacteristic of your Emperor’s usual direction, unless he has changed his methods drastically since I acted as his warleader. But, if you are so committed to blending in, dressing as you have and approaching me are both potentially revealing actions, so that assumption doesn’t make sense.”
Sabreíl’s features were deadly serious, and she pinned Savryn in-place with her stare: a stare that was lit deep within the Nephilim’s eyes by an intensity not often seen coming from mortal eyes.
”Tell me your real name, Savryn: then we can discuss your proposal.”
Sabreíl’s final words carried an unearthly edge as they slid like a whisper through the air, as though the Intercessor had a second voice adding intensity and resonance to her own. Unblinking, Sabreíl would watch and wait for Savryn’s response: how the woman chose to interpret her question would largely determine if their conversation was to continue any further.
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Post by Alissia Syrkhan on Sept 10, 2015 19:19:55 GMT -5
Alissia resisted the urge to fidget in her seat as the Intercessor fixed her in an intense, if unreadable, stare. The Marru'Khyran Agent was having an extremely difficult time getting a read on what the woman was thinking, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, Savryn began to get progressively more nervous. Had she made a mistake in asking Sabreíl for help? Had she misjudged the woman’s feelings as to her father’s empire, his tactics? When Sabreíl broke her stare momentarily to glance at Jera, Alissia did the same, letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, only to smile as she watched Jera’s brief flirtation with alcohol. The girl was so unabashedly honest, just meeting her eyes managed to help Savryn relax, and therefore the Agent caught her composure and met Sabreíl’s eyes evenly as the Intercessor turned back her direction.
The woman’s next question caught Alissia totally off guard, though the woman managed to keep the surprise off of her face. Instantly, the woman caught wind of the fact that the question was a leading one, and her quick mind put two and two together: Sabreíl either suspected she was an imposter of some kind, or had a good idea of who Savryn actually was. Of the two options, the latter was preferable, and as the Intercessor continued speaking, though Alissia briefly flirted with the idea of being deceptive, she quickly decided that being as honest as possible with Sabreíl would give her the best chance of navigating her way into leaving the bar with an ally instead of an enemy. When Sabreíl finished her statements, Savryn nodded slowly, and slowly leaned forward in order to lower the tone of her voice, knowing that, reflexively, the other two women at the table likely would too.
”Savryn is not an alias; Savryn Michaels is my given name.” Taking a deep breath, the Marru'Khyran Agent collected her thoughts and met Sabreíl’s intense emerald stare with every bit of personal force her own topaz one could muster. ”It is a Vascxious Sigma name, and the accent is not affected: I have spent my childhood, and most of my adult life, in the trade city.”
Though the daughter of Syrkhan had somewhat expected the information she was being forced to disclose to come out in interaction with Sabreíl and Jera eventually, the woman couldn’t help her irritation at it being required so early in the interaction. The Intercessor's level of intelligence shouldn’t have been surprising to the Agent, but the fact that Sabreíl was already living up to Alissia’s lofty expectations managed to irritate the woman more than somewhat. Taking another long, slow breath, Alissia prayed that no one was eavesdropping, and lowly spoke the words that the Intercessor was undoubtedly waiting to hear.
”My real name, however, is Alissia Syrkhan. I am the youngest daughter of Corvaelan.”
Speaking the words gave Alissia a strong sense of power, and she felt Jha'Syrkhyr within her body heat and well up as her anger began to stoke itself, creating a slow burn of defiance in her chest that, momentarily, banished her fear of the woman opposite her.
”Perhaps now you can understand the gravity of my presence here.”
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Post by Jera on Sept 11, 2015 9:06:49 GMT -5
Jera abandoned the glass smoothly, refusing to look up at the other women― at least until she was positive that the watering her eyes had done wouldn't spill out onto her cheeks. The Halfblood blinked very cautiously, only then beginning to really focus on the conversation. Fortunately for everyone involved, she completely missed the smirk the former Intercessor shot her way.
It was only when thick white fringe began to hinder her vision that Jera realized maybe she was spending too much time being quiet. If she wasn't careful Savryn was totally going to notice that she was a mess. Jera cleared her throat a little, working her jaw to release some of that involuntary tightness before she caught on that the conversation was turning a tone of serious that she'd fully expected due to the direness of the situation Savryn had laid out earlier. Gloved hands met at the wrist to form a cup for her chin to rest in as the Halfblood's golden eyes darted back and forth between the two older women.
Sabreíl looked kind of mad and Jera's brow furrowed directly as a result. The red-haired giant of a woman better not do anything to scare off Savryn: couldn't she see that Savryn was on a mission? She had very important things to do and no time for―
Jera's eyes widened as her teacher issued her command, her expression becoming one part incredulous and one part awe. Why was Sabreíl being so rude?! At the same time, the snow-haired girl was sort of awestruck by the sheer force of her and wasn't quite sure how she should be responding― regardless of the fact that she wasn't the one being pinned by that awful glare. When Savryn did reply Jera almost instantly opened her mouth to say something along the lines of 'See! She's telling the truth, now leave her alone!' but Savryn continued, and Jera leaned even closer in.
And then her jaw dropped.
"Wait, what?"
She'd said that slightly louder than she intended and immediately dropped the volume of her voice.
"OhmyGoddess!You'reaprincesstoo?!"
Jera could barely keep her words quiet, but somehow she also managed to keep them from being a solid shriek of excitement as well. The Halfblood glanced at Sabreíl to see how she was taking the news, but basically Jera was convinced that the former Intercessor now needed to chill on Savryn. Or Alissia.
"We have to keep it a sekrit, don't we? That's why you didn’t tell me before. I totally get that! Sabreíl says it's sooo dangerous," Jera made googl-y eyes and wavy hands at the two words, "and some information just can't be shared."
Jera looked up at Savryn earnestly.
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Post by Dragos Syrkhan on Sept 12, 2015 0:51:31 GMT -5
The Son had an idea; this was far from the first time that he'd been left in apparent shambles after a fight, and more often than not, without a single form of currency to legally fix the dilemma. Seeing as they wouldn't be retreating into the wilderness, the occasional glances of increasing frequency at his tattered apparel would only become more so if the problem wasn't remedied, but he had something in mind. Answering his companion with a slight incline of his head, urging her to follow, he moved down the street to one of its sides, trying as well as he could to blend in with the line of buildings parallel to their path and, when necessary, using Es herself as cover. It wasn't long until, after a slight pause, the man honed in his sights on a figure down the walkway. Not waiting for Es, he advanced on the target of his attention, who happened to be standing near the mouth of a slim alley. The evening's dimming light would do a lot of the work for him, but his movements were swift and direct nonetheless. Grabbing hold of the man by his collar, both would disappear from general sight and into the alley.
It was several moments later that Dragos stood, now in full attire, to regard the woman whom had no doubt followed him thus far, with only a slight inclination of questioning to his gaze. Hopefully she wasn't so put off by his direct methods that she'd try to reprimand him for it; he simply wasn't in the mood, and she'd done well thus far to coast on the fatigue that had overtaken the day's long-running fury. Personally, he thought that the brilliantly glowing, golden eyes had been the particular selling point in his addressing the man with the threat of ripping the town apart to find him if he alerted the authorities to his situation. Those orbs now a more natural state of cool turquoise in order to better blend now that he'd addressed the issue of his attire, he glanced down to regard it.
The man he'd pulled into the alley had drawn his focus for the simple fact that he was, roughly at least, similar in Dragos to size and stature. He'd been a laborer from the look of him, and the work did well to facilitate accommodating their new owner's frame, if not proving a bit snug around the shoulders and thighs. A simple, short jacket of green hue worn and faded from long hours of work in the sun, rested over a simple, tunic that, after a modification by the Son, was now sleeveless. Brown trousers allowed him enough flexibility to let him move unhindered, but he wasn't entirely comfortable with how the muscles of his legs bulged against the fabric. At least the old boots that now crunched against compacted snow and dirt were a decent fit. Pulling the old, fingerless gloves he'd acquired a bit tighter onto his hands, he regarded Es again, his brow furrowing slightly as his mind returned to the more pressing topic of their survival.
“Now what?”
Then again, the matter had never really left his mind. Even when he'd ever so kindly left the man keep his undergarments and he fled down the alley in the direction opposite that which the trio had entered, there was a running dialogue in his mind regarded one, very specific thought. How would they address the planar mage's ability to control the field of battle via the possibility of relocating any of its participants? Es had distinctly said that she would be the one to separate Soren, and that left Dragos one on one with a combatant that he'd been previously unable to adequately nullify. The problem was, the answer was simpler than one might think; he knew it already. The Sphere of Influence could do it; the question was whether or not he could. Even as he lifted the small hood of the jacket to cover silver strands atop his head, his uncertainty plagued him, and in order to refrain from showing it to his companion, he moved to the mouth of the alley, glancing casually in either direction, both in anticipation of movement to their next destination, and as a preliminary check for any familiar faces, any of which that he could think of being entirely unwelcome at this moment.
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Post by Es Kauvrian on Dec 28, 2015 10:55:51 GMT -5
Es Kauvrian smirked slightly as she watched Dragos go about making himself blend in. Taking up a space against the wall near the mouth of the alley the SyrKhan used to intimidate his chosen target, Es crossed her arms and carefully watched the passers-by, both to keep an eye out for their pursuers and to insure that Dragos’ actions weren’t attracting any undue attention. Seemingly, his relieving the man of his clothes hadn’t attracted the notice of any of the patrons of Tamryn Holding’s street, and so, while Dragos got himself fitted and sent his target on his way, the female Arc took stock of the nearby street.
A series of clothiers sat directly across from them, each trading in some aspect of a current regional style – Es saw a lot of white fur and leather represented in all of the stores, meaning those aspects of style were likely all the rage in Vascxious Sigma at the current moment. White hair was surprisingly popular too, especially among the women, A fact that might help Dragos blend all the better in the crowd. Past the clothiers was an inn, the Tipsy Pony, a quaint, mid-grade tourist establishment that seemed fairly busy, even given the time of morning. Briefly, Es cursed her unfamiliarity with the town’s layout – while the Arc had spent a great deal of time in the region over her lifetime, Tamryn had just never been much of a waystation for her, and her imported memories from the consciousness of the Mage were likewise of little help in mentally mapping the town. Her unfamiliarity would make it much harder to find what she needed, both in means of location and physical support; though, she suspected that Dragos might be able to be more help in both regards then she herself could hope to be in a short time frame.
When Dragos returned to her side, the female Arc wasted no time in getting right down to business, but didn’t yet decide to resume moving down the crowded street, at least until a general destination had been decided. Es was very quickly beginning to formulate a plan that gave them a good chance of being able to deal with their pursuers, but the woman needed supplies if any of the aspects of her designs were to be successful. Her green eyes locking intently on Dragos’ gaze from her sidelong stance, Es started mining for as much information as she could get so that she could attempt to plan their next move.
”In order to neutralize the Risis Mage’s planar abilities, I’m going to have to create a space where my energy interferes with them. I can do that on my own, but the amount of effort and focus needed to maintain that kind of space would be reduced if we could get our hands on some energy vessels, preferably crystals, that I could mark and use to create a boundary field. I’m also going to need weapons: swords, heavy weapons, and shields. As many as possible. And, we have to find a defensible area, preferably with minimal entrances and exits, in which to set up.”
Es expected that Dragos would have questions, given how vague she was being about her plan, and she had every intention of answering them – later. For now, her priority was getting moving, and therefore she had to start mobilizing potential resources as quickly as possible. If Dragos knew anything about Tamryn, he might be able to point them, at least generally, in the right direction.
”That means we need a weapons and armorsmith, if there is one in town, that we can raid, and potentially a magic shop: I know Tamryn is a resort town, and therefore doesn’t really cater to what I’m looking for specifically, but that doesn’t mean the resources we need aren’t available somewhere. Any ideas?”
If Dragos didn’t have any information, Es would have to go to plan B – start asking the locals. That meant a fairly sizable delay, but if they kept to crowded areas and kept their energetic presence fairly well hidden, they might still be able to pull everything together in time. With any luck, though, Dragos’ previous experience with the town would end up being a boon to their success.
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Post by Dragos Syrkhan on Feb 23, 2016 10:44:01 GMT -5
While Es planned for their next move, Dragos found that he seemed capable of moving backwards in his mind, specifically through time and the events that had led them here. That one question—whether or not he was capable of fulfilling what he needed to do in their likely upcoming confrontation—had no conclusion that bade well for the pair, as evidenced by the days events. In one, single day, he'd led himself to what was almost more life-ending choices or failures than he could count on one hand. He'd either been negligent enough or overconfident enough in every circumstance to ensure it's failure, whether or not he was still alive. Worst, the thoughts of why was more than even his broad shoulders could bare. Like a poison lurking in his bloodstream, the whisper of why alone was enough to sap away from him even the meager strength that he had left. It was Es's initial topic of the Risis Mage, and her theoretical ability to deal with the woman's capabilities that pulled him out of his sinking thoughts, if only for the time being. After all, if—or perhaps, since—he couldn't, she was the only one that could. His brow furrowed somewhat in concentration as she continued, but the street before them still held his gaze as, for the first time since their arrival, he started to go over his familiarity with the town, limited as it was.
“Just one.”
Darkly, he found it somewhat comedic that even in this circumstance he had barely anything to offer to their continued survival. Still, as he continued, he kept his tone low, as not to be overheard by any passerbys beyond the mouth of the alley.
“The Manor. There are at least some weapons there, and it's more isolated than any other point we're going to find in town. I'm not sure about crystals, though.”
Recalling the reason why he had any information to give at all was uncomfortable in his current low. He remembered the Manor, and what he'd be shown within, from yet another time he'd reached bottom, and Fureya had been there to help. The day's earlier confrontation did little to make him feel any better about that. Trying to push past it, he instead weighed the Manor's location, strategically. Being away from the center of town, there were less angles of initial attack they'd have to deal with, but they were isolating themselves from the possible shield of so many people being around them. That value, looking at the people as shields and the thought of them being collateral damage, made him more uncomfortable that he'd admit to Es, which was another strange and irksome feeling on what was currently a long, and growing, list.
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Post by Es Kauvrian on Feb 28, 2016 18:45:29 GMT -5
“The Manor?”
Es Kauvrian had to take a moment to figure out what it was Dragos was referring to, but it quickly clicked into place due to the influence of Achréiøs’ memories: he meant Fureya’s manor, the one sitting up on the hill overlooking the town. Neither Es nor Achréiøs had been there, but the fact that Fureya held the town of Tamryn essentially in thrall was something that the Mage had been well aware of, and that meant the Es knew it too.
The woman’s mouth pressed into a thin line as she considered Dragos proposal. Not only was the manor off the proverbially-beaten path and nearly outside the town, meaning it was less likely that their followers would look for them there, but it also could potentially offer a much better, much more defensible location in which to set a trap for their pursuers. The only downside was that the location removed the cover that the townspeople afforded the two Arcs: the manor would be remote enough that the female Mages coming after them wouldn’t hesitate to use their magic to its full extent. But, if Es played her cards right, that fact could also potentially be an advantage . . .
The female Arc nodded in assent to Dragos’ idea. If the Manor was sure to have plenty of weapons, the need for the crystals could potentially be worked around, and going to a potentially-defensible location that contained some sort of armory was vastly more time-efficient than searching around the town for a weapon shop that may or may not exist.
”Lead the way. It’s better that we walk, though – the odds of us being tracked multiply exponentially if I transport us there quick-like.”
Assuming that Dragos didn’t have anything else to add, Es would fall in beside the younger Arc and allow him to direct them towards the Manor, making sure to hurry their pace while still not attracting undue attention . . .
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Post by Sabreíl on Jun 30, 2016 21:21:25 GMT -5
Sabreíl nodded slowly to the woman’s confession. While the former Intercessor had expected as much, seeing the girl set in front of her was still something of a shock, and not only for the fact that she, in many ways, very closely resembled her father.
That she is her spells perhaps more trouble than we had anticipated, child: if her tales of growing up here, in the Sigma City, are accurate, then she has only come to know her father within somewhat recent days. I remember hearing from Alstar that Ishara had taken Corvaelan’s newborn child and disappeared, but I never would have imagined that her mother would have left her in someplace like Vascxious Sigma. For one thing, Ishara never did like the cold that much. Regardless of the warrior’s temperature preferences, she indeed brought her daughter here. If that is the case, is she, too, within the Sigma city? Or did she leave and progress further, so that she would not draw her mate more easily to find his offspring? I really don’t see Ishara leaving, especially after . . .
Ilyssa did not fully manage to hide her troubled expression as her thoughts swirled in silence. Alissia Syrkhan, the last wayward child of the Marru’Khyran Emperor, brought with her far more questions than answers, and with those questions, echoes of a troubled, painful past the Nephilim had long since left behind. Looking around, the former Intercessor took stock of the room around them, and only began speaking again, her voice hushed, once she was confident the trio were not being overheard. As she modulated her volume precisely enough that her voice would be lost in the establishments din once it got past ‘Savryn’ and Jera’s ears, she also made sure to send a pointed glance in Jera’s direction, imploring her to do the same.
“That name, and its associations, are things best not mentioned in mixed company, especially here: you were right to keep it hidden. However, I doubt that you are aware of the true gravity your presence brings with it, named as you are, Savryn.” The Intercessor stressed the woman’s Vascxian name in order to ensure the other was not spoken again. “That the Emperor would send you, of all his subjects, to this place in search of a ‘fugitive,’ as you say, brings many questions to my mind, but none so pressing as this: is your mother here also?”
I am afraid that the ‘fugitive’ she speaks of is none other than Ishara. That Corvaelan might send his own daughter on such a mission speaks ill of the possibility that the great Marru’Khyran ‘Emperor’ has returned himself to some vestige of his former sanity. We don’t know that’s who she is after. And, even if she was, no matter how dogmatic she might be towards her father’s views, I don’t suspect little Alissia here could be so easily talked into bringing her mother back for execution.
Sabreíl turned her attention momentarily to Jera. “Understand that both your names bring many enemies, Jera. Here, there may not be many who know your names, but our friend Savryn’s presence here means that others from your homeland might have made the journey across the ocean as well. Being of important lineage brings with it both the advantages of family, and the terrors of the strife that power naturally incites.”
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Post by Alissia Syrkhan on Jul 4, 2016 14:30:56 GMT -5
Alissia blinked at Jera as her exclamation temporarily halted several conversations happening nearby the trio’s semi-secluded table.
”Too? You’re also from a royal line, Jera?”
The girl glanced to Sabreil, and instantly got the sense that her young counterpart’s outburst included information that the Intercessor hadn’t wanted public, and therefore Alissia immediately caught both Jera and then Sabreil’s eyes in series, speaking earnestly as she did so.
”Clearly we all have similarly-important secrets; I swear to keep yours, and I hope that you will do the same with mine.”
As she finished and the Intercessor continued however, Alissia Syrkhan felt her anger begin to boil up inside her again as Sabreíl spoke to her. The woman clearly meant well – the Marru’Khyran could very easily see that the former Intercessor was not only a good person, but a powerful warrior who was worthy of admiration and respect. That knowledge didn’t change Alissia’s anger, however, at the clinical condescension that dripped from Sabreíl’s words, though the girl had enough control over her feelings to keep her quickly-escalating rage in check.
Does she really think I’m so ignorant that I’m in over my head? That I don’t see anything else that’s going on? Realistically, as Alissia stopped to think about it, she really couldn’t pinpoint just what was supposedly going on behind the scenes that the Intercessor was indicating, but she wasn’t an idiot. She would see it when it became relevant, surely. She doesn’t have to put it like that. Alissia suppressed a pout. Barely.
The Marru’Khyran Agent’s anger built as Sabreíl kept on, however, causing the girl to fidget in her seat, half-rising reflexively as she prepared for the inevitable torrent of rage to burst out of her with the Intercessor’s continued condescension. Alissia was just about to erupt like a volcano when something Sabreíl said cut her rage out at the knees, replacing it instead with total confusion.
My mother?
Alissia didn’t even try to disguise her confused expression, and Sabreíl and Jera both would undoubtedly be able to watch the Syrkhan daughter advance from anger into confusion, and then, suddenly, into understanding.
Why would my mo-
The realization dawned on Alissia all at once.
She thinks my mother is the fugitive I’m looking for.
The girl’s expression darkened noticeably, and Alissia’s demeanor suddenly took on a very cold, steely edge that Sabreíl might previously had witnessed from the girl’s father. She kept her voice low, but her tone made the words, and their meaning, cut through the establishment’s noisy atmosphere.
”I can’t say if my mother is here or not – I wouldn’t recognize her if she was. I’ve no memory of her – she abandoned me and left me at a city orphanage in Vascxious Sigma when I wasn’t even six months old. No one in my father’s organization has any information on where she might be, and she hasn’t been identified anywhere since she committed treason and took me from my family.”
Alissia Syrkhan cleared her throat slightly in an effort to hide the emotion that was welling up into it. What her father had told her of her mother, Ishara, the once-great warrior who had betrayed her own mate and, in conjunction with her sons, had tried to destroy Corvaelan and the unification as a whole, had sickened her; even thinking about it now turned her stomach into knots, and therefore the girl tried her best to move on past the topic into something she could be far more clinical about.
”She has nothing to do with who I am looking for. The fugitive I’m seeking is a woman named Fureya, who is in league with a creature that helped her and others commit acts of terror within the Marru’Khyran capital.”
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Post by Jera on Jul 20, 2016 12:52:37 GMT -5
As soon as the redheaded giantess reiterated her point about keeping quiet it was everything Jera could do to keep from squeaking an I told you so! in Sav―Alissia-but-still-Savryn's direction. The Halfblood shot the revealed Marru'Khyran royalty a glance of solidarity: they were basically related now. Jera wasn't going to let Sabreíl boss her around. Sort of.
Okay, maybe Jera didn't really have the power to make anyone simmer down― especially not the former Intercessor― but she definitely intended to stick up for her newfound friend. Besides, Savryn was becoming infinitely more cool by the moment. Maybe if she helped Savryn-Alissia with capturing her fugitive that could be her ticket home. Though Jera didn't understand the specifics of her father's reasoning for abandoning her on the other continent, she did know it had something to do with Corvaelan. The truth of the dire state of Jera's situation totally escaped the young Halfblood, but her inkling that helping Savryn might lead to her own liberation wasn't precisely wrong, if a bit misguided.
When Sabreíl mentioned the missing Empress Jera watched Savryn closely.
Wait a second. . .
The Halfblood wasn't the most educated on the politics of her own household much less the politics of the Empire her father served, but everyone knew that the Empress Ishara was a traitor who had stolen the Emperor's infant daughter a long time ago or something like that. She didn't know why everyone hated Empress Ishara so much: Corvaelan wasn't really a nice person―seriously, who could blame her for ditching? Jera had never thought about it too deeply, partly because she so seldom was summoned to Court with her own parents and partly because Jera really wasn't in a position to absorb the majority of the propaganda that came out of the Emperor's House. Though Jera didn't have the perspective to realize she should be thanking Alistar for how he'd sheltered her it was highly possible she would one day. One day, but definitely not today. In fact, as Savryn spoke of her own abandonment Jera's eyes widen steadily and, for once, she had absolutely nothing to say. The white-haired teenager stole a glance at Sabreíl for a moment before snapping back to Savryn.
It was an isolating thing, to be abandoned by a parent. It was possible Jera was projecting but she thought she heard sadness beyond the iciness of Savryn's explanation. Whatever Empress Ishara's reasoning for taking Alissia away, it didn't change how much it hurt the woman sitting beside her. Alissia had been a baby: the only consolation Jera had was that at least she'd grown up with her family. At the passing thought Jera's chin dropped: she wondered how her twin was doing without her. . .
Janna had always been sickly. It was probably a lot harder on their mother now that she was gone.
After a pause Jera refocused golden eyes on the other white-haired woman. Now they knew who the fugitive was: a terrorist in league with a creature. Ew. Fine, snow-colored brows drew together as she tried imagined what sort of creature would the fugitive Fureya would be working with― except she realize she had literally no detail to fill her mind's eye except that the fugitive was probably here and very dangerous.
"What's Fureya's surname? If we find her family we could maybe find her!" Jera remembered a little late to be more quiet, but her outburst shouldn't have drawn too much attention.
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Post by Sabreíl on Jul 20, 2016 17:00:13 GMT -5
Sabreíl watched the Marru'Khyran princess's reaction to her line of questioning very carefully: the manner in which Alissia Syrkhan responded to questions of her mother would tell the Intercessor a great deal about her perspective on past events and, more importantly, who has shaped that perspective. That Savryn responded as she did, coolly, but with obvious anger, immediately answered the Nephilim's question.
She's never met her mother. That means anything she thinks about her comes from her father's perspective. Or perhaps Vërus': we do not yet know how she came to return to the Marru'Khyran court and her father's side. Certainly, if she knew nothing of her mother, she did not return on her own. I don't think we should ask everything too quickly, though: let's see what she reveals on her own. Agreed.
The Nephilim shot an appraising look in Jera's direction in order to try and judge how the girl was receiving all this new information. Sabreíl could already tell that the young woman was more than somewhat star-struck by her new friend Savryn, and news of her true name and status likely would only increase the girl's reverence of their new acquaintance. Sabreíl knew she had to tread carefully with Jera - if the Intercessor rejected Savryn's offer outright, her young protégé would undoubtedly strike out on her own to help the woman, something that would end in disaster for one or both of the young women. For the time being, Sabreíl took on a particular aire of passivity and reserved judgement as she allowed Savryn to continue her explanations: it was immediately advantageous for the Nephilim to do so, because her intentional passivity helped hide her sudden reaction to the next name Savryn spoke.
Fureya! She thinks FUREYA is a fugitive? I warned you, child, that the silver-haired life-stealer was dangerous. If she has become associated with some ancient creature of power, perhaps from my time or shortly thereafter, it is completely feasible that she represents a true threat to this world, as Alissia Syrkhan has indicated. You just don't like her because in your time, you would have had her imprisoned along with the rest of those you considered 'too powerful to control.' My only mistake in that regard, child, was that I trusted such individuals because of my personal relationships with them and chose to exempt them from imprisonment. Had I stayed true to my ethics, I would never have been betrayed, and the current state of the world would be very, very different. You're right - locking everyone up would have definitely changed the landscape. That doesn't mean it would be BETTER if you had, though. Perhaps. In any case, it would be best for us to follow these leads and find out the truth about your compatriot Fureya. Perhaps we should share our knowledge of her with this Savryn. I love how you hate that she's my friend enough that you are willing to trust a Marru'Khyran THAT YOU'VE NEVER MET over her. No, we WILL NOT be sharing what we know. We are going to play this smart and figure out the real story. Meaning, I'm going to stay in control, and you'll keep back until we get more information.
The Intercessor kept her expression neutral as she responded to Savryn's inference, and in turn, Jera's question. Sabreíl's own tone took on some remnant of the cool authority it had possessed during her time as Intercessor: a tone of voice that edged itself in magic as the Mithrian influence of Sabreíl's lineage just barely peeked through the Nephilim's façade.
"The image you paint with your words carries with it a bias: remember that one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter. That said, those who threatened those in Marru'Khyr could truly threaten innocents here as well, whether it be through intention or neglect. Due to this, I offer mine and Jera's assistance in finding Fureya, with the understanding that I expect to uncover a true accounting of all parties motives and actions before final judgement is passed.
Looking to Jera, Sabreíl smiled very slightly, though the expression carried with it an unintentional icy tinge.
"Surnames matter far less on these shores than they do in your home, Jera, and any who choose to try and hide themselves often forsake their surnames long before they commit acts of terror. I myself have no true surname."
Shifting her gaze back to Savryn, the Intercessor's smile died.
"With that said, no surname is necessary - the name Fureya is known in this town . . . Enough that speaking it too loudly could end in the attention of potential enemies. I wish to learn more of what happened, but not here: perhaps we should retire to a more private location."
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Post by Jera on Aug 3, 2016 18:59:26 GMT -5
Jera's eyes marginally narrowed when the former Intercessor began to speak. It wasn't until Sabreíl agreed to help Savryn that she relaxed somewhat, unclenching the fists she'd unconsciously balled up under the table. A furrow appeared in her brow when the redhead turned to her to elaborate on Fureya's lack of surname, and honestly it wasn't until Sabreíl spelled it out that the Halfblood realized she really didn't have a surname. What would it mean to forsake the name that bound one to their family, she wondered. It must be lonely to know that no one out there shared a name with you. . .
Jera eyed Savryn sidelong. They both had surnames but couldn't disclose them to any but trustworthy company. There was something more to brood on, to connect, but the young girl tucked it away for later. She'd taken a nap this afternoon; surely she'd have trouble falling asleep tonight. She could mull it over then.
Golden eyes fixed on the still-full glass of clear rum but she couldn't bring herself to try it again: her stomach did a flip flop just at the passing thought.
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Post by Alissia Syrkhan on Jun 14, 2017 10:43:30 GMT -5
Alissia clenched her teeth as Sabreíl spoke, though she was fairly sure she managed to keep her expression from changing too significantly, despite her frustration. On the one hand, the youngest Syrkhan knew that the Intercessor was an older, wiser, more experienced (and likely far more powerful) individual than Alissia herself was, but that didn’t mean that the cool condescension in Sabreíl’s tone and choice of words didn’t piss Alissia off to no end.
Despite the irony of the thought, the Marru’Khyran Operative couldn’t help but think ‘who does she think she is?’ as Sabreíl spoke. Alissia understood the concept of political difference and the importance of context in describing political situations, but the fact that Sabreíl could self-righteously assign doubt to the threat posed by Fureya and whatever the thing was that she brought along with her nearly sent Alissia into a rage. The woman leaned forward just slightly and, keeping her voice to a through-clenched-teeth whisper, exclaimed a rapid follow-up to Sabreíl’s statement with a touch of mania reaching her eyes as she spoke.
”This particular terrorist has tried to kill me on two separate occasions, and was responsible for not only causing massive damage to the city, but the creature with her grievously injured the Emperor’s oldest son AND released another terrorist who had attempted to assassinate the Emperor himself!”
Alissia stopped at the end of her statement and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down – she felt the white-hot rage growing inside her, but her tactical mind knew better than to let it fully get the best of her. She sat back in her chair and momentarily hid her mouth behind her drink as Sabreíl explained the relevance of surnames to Jera, with Alissia only adding on a quick sentence at the end for further clarification.
”Sabreíl is right, and it’s a moot point besides – we don’t have any information on her surname, and we don’t even have a name or other identifier for the creature she was partnered with.”
Sabreíl’s words caused Alissia to calm down and think for a moment. The first time she had encountered Fureya had been in Tamryn, before her brother had fetched her back to Marru’Khyr: at that time, the woman had made it seem as if Alissia had been causing trouble on ‘her turf.’ Sabreíl’s implication meant that the idea of Tamryn (or at least the Blooming Orchid) ‘belonging’ to Fureya in some way might not have just been based on territorialism or ego. Suddenly, Alissia felt a cool spike of fear enter her heart, and she dragged her attention momentarily away from her conversation companions to cast a wary eye around the room. That Fureya could have a controlling interest in Tamryn was something Alissia foolishly hadn’t considered before, and suddenly faces that had been innocent bystanders moments before took on the look of stealthy conspirators as Alissia’s light-blue eyes passed over them.
The Marru’Khyran Operative clenched her teeth again, but Sabreíl would undoubtedly notice that the woman had clearly managed to wrangle her anger back down.
”You’re right. I have a room at the Blooming Orchid: maybe we can speak more freely there.”
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