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What is Your word for 'pain'?
Aryanne's POV makes the most sense for this, but I thought the two of them (Auresae & @Trager) were pretty awesome, so really wanted to show off their awesomeness. Few seconds of @ashmer in there as well.
Setting the Scene: Aryanne and Trager are sitting around, relaxing for the first time since Trager was kicked out for being a traitor. Aryanne is in Auresae's order and intending to leave Enorian (again). They have a one-month-old baby that Aryanne is feeding and insists they can't name yet, because it's bad luck.
Green stuff is Aryanne's thoughts, everything else was being fed to her from Auresae
I was on my phone when this started so I missed Auresae's initial emote but it was something akin to:
The room suddenly begins to heat around you, Trager seeming unaffected by the sudden warmth.
“I can attempt to put in a word, I am sure," Trager rumbles out thoughtfully. He leans back against the wall, his arms coming before him to cross over his chest. "You will be joining the city, aye? Of that, I am certain we can handle as soon as you lay the child down to rest - after he is fed, and such."
“You betrayed Me.”
Brows rising as a mild panic rises in her expression, Aryanne's arms tighten and her gaze turns hazy as she stares toward the skylight, beginning in a rushing alarm, "I! I am! I didn't -mean-! I simply! I hadn't wanted, ih..iht! it just! I meant not! I'd never q-q-quite!"
Trager’s own awareness soars immediately to new heights at your hurried, rushed tone. His eyes turn upwards, then shift back to you, curiosity etched across his features. "What is it?" he demands.
"-Betrayed-."
The heat in the room begins to skyrocket.
"No one has ever before!" Aryanne begins before her breathing picks up rapidly and she nearly tears the child from her chest, holding the bundled mass under the arms and out to Trager, careless of his stability, desperate to no longer be holding him. "I simply! I! I am! I wished! Finally found up! I! Ah-I! I am! S-sorry! C-can-can I? However can I?"
"How can you what? Betray Me further? Add insult to injury?"
Trager lurches forward, arms already outstretched to take the child before anything more then the light shakes that have befallen him happen. He takes up the baby in a rush, whirling away from you to check the baby for further harm before his eyes swivel about, fixating upon you. Unbridled fury awaits, no longer that amiable, comforting nature as he stares towards you. "What is wrong with you?" he rumbles out scathingly, scouring you form for information.
"Make it right!" Aryanne calls out desperately as soon as her hands are freed, her furrowed brow creasing with a line of sweat that begins to prickle at her brow and slowly drip down the side of her cheek, "I wished a proper favorite - no one's in ages - and then leaves up?! I!" With a glance to Trager, her eyes grow wider yet and she begins to fan herself slightly for relief, lamenting, "Just wished the one - the once on!"
YOU ARE STILL MY HIALE!!
Trager apparently realizes his words are getting himself nowhere. He turns around, crossing the room in a few, wide steps before he gently sets the child back down into its crib. When he turns once more, his visage is determined, rippling with an abrupt sort of fury. "Auresae?" he whispers out, the words accusing, searching. "Is this your work?" He voice is loud now, reverberating around the domed room they stand in.
You have emoted: "Whatever would you have of me?!" Aryanne cries out with anguish, stepping away from the chair to stand in a beam of light from the ceiling, "I! Whatever c-could?!" Her breath puffs quickly as more sweat drips down her face, coating her hair to her head before she hoarsely whispers, "You deserve better-on than -me-."
You wish to placate me, Aryanne? You want to know what to do to sate My wrath?
Nodding emphatically as she looks to Trager, you say, "Yeh-Aye!"
Give Me the child.
Trager has fallen silent, abruptly so, standing still near the sleeping child in a defensive sort of stance. "I don't know what you are thinking, Aryanne," he grits out slowly. "But you need to remember the baby you just gave birth to. Either leave, or control yourself."
Stiffening, Aryanne's eyes widen, flickering to the chair, crib, ceiling then back to Trager. Tone now hushed and brimming with emotion, she trembles in a drenching sweat, "Ehh... elsewise... Elsewise what?"
"Get a -hold- of yourself, Aryanne," Trager replies slowly, his heavy hands curling into tight fists where he stands. "Talk to -me-! Do not ask me to stand between whatever the Pit this is with you and our child," he warns softly. "For your sake, and his, I will choose the child."
You have emoted: Trager's words cowling her shoulders, Aryanne's fanning continues as her brows draw closer and she small woman's chest rises and falls quickly in panic before she finally croaks out to Trager, "Sh! She.. She wants him - ah-I! I don't know whatever She'd do, can't be over-dreadful.. I! I don't... Whichever would you have me do?"
He would have you tortured mindlessly before his child touched. If you give it to Me, I will walk away peacefully. You will be... safe.
You can always have another.
There it is. That subtle snap, the only hint of it being the harden of those emerald eyes. They go blank, his mouth flat, features impassive. "I will kill you," Trager rumbles out calmly. "And I will kill you again, and again, and again should you allow my child to be taken from me." He breathes in a heavy influx of air, his words coming to a brief pause as he gathers his thoughts. Each movement calculated, calm and apathetic to anything other then what is his, and what is being threatened. "If She takes him, I swear upon that child's life I will not stop, I will be relentless, a fucking hurricane that will know zero boundaries, until he is back, safe in my arms." A sinister dirk is palmed suddenly, hanging loose by his side in an almost lazy grip. "Tell Her -that-, Aryanne."
A strained wheeze of a noise slips from Aryanne's lips as she begins to tremble, looking back to the skylight to whimper, "You... You've the... Always the wisest of them, You were always..." Her head shifting with a jerking slide of her gaze back down to Trager, she whispers, "Whatever She.. P-Please don't h..hate?" Finally moving forward with staggering, uncertain steps, she comes to Trager's side, grasping the taller man's fist-ed hand within her own and looks up again to say with more fear than defiance, "No! I finally! I c-can't lose! I'm not!"
I can't lose him! However would I find another? Took too long! Can't let him hate me!
I will not hurt the child. He will be safe.
I will even give him to Rivas. You trust Rivas, don't you?
Riv! Rivas?! He'd not... He'd not hurt something up.. He'd... Trager would want him back.
I'd rather he hurt me up than Rivas...
You know Rivas is a good father. What do you know about Trager?
He loves me. He loves -him-. C-could... Could we have him back? Ih.. if.. If you took him on awhile?
We do not have to tell Trager that Rivas has the child.
Trager does not move, so iron-clad is his stance, so rigid, as if your touch is not even felt upon the Yeleni. "Not my son," he says, almost as if he is repeating a mantra to protect him and his from anything that might intrude upon his world. "Not my son. Not my son." His eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, though perhaps more importantly, pleading.
You'd! You'd need.. You'd need hurt me - I do not wish to hurt him! He was ever so excited.
You can always have another. Ten more if you like.
Aryanne catches Trager's gaze with her own sweat-slicked expression of anxious desperation and a shaky nod. Her words are soft as a hand draws up to tremblingly cup Trager's jaw, "Sh-she hasn't my blessing." The promise rings with a twinge of pain and a choke that causes her to glance back to the crib and child in question before turning her gaze back to Trager and adding with more determination, "Will -not- lose you to hate for me."
"I learned a long time ago I can not fight the will of the Gods," Trager whispers out, still pleading, still hungry for some sort of sign that his child is not to be harmed. "She does not have your blessing, but will She leave us be? Tell Her! Tell Her to leave him alone!"
Where there was nothing, now there is Auresae.
"Very well," Auresae says, looking very calm, "It is your choice, Trager. You can give Me the child to properly foster and save her from pain.." She smiles, slowly, sadistically as She looks over to you, "Or I will take the child and play with Aryanne just the same."
Aryanne gasps in softly as her hands clutch for Trager's tunic, her eyes for Auresae alone as she cries out a desperate, pleading, "NO! He loves him!"
Trager's arms come up at the appearance of Auresae, and he bodily shoves you behind him in the direction of the crib even amidst you pleas. "Why?" he whispers out, stepping forward bodily towards the Goddess. "You can not ask this of me, You can't!" The dirk is still held in one hand, and fingers dance a tightening grip over the haft, as if readying himself. "Leave us -alone-!"
"I can ask what I please," Auresae replies calmly, taking a single step closer, "And I can take what I please. She betrayed Me. Hand the boy over willingly and no one will be hurt. I will see that he is raised properly, safely." She reaches up with a hand, casually pushing Her hair over Her shoulder, the locks licking at Her flesh like living flame.
Trager movements are of a man in distress, flighty, his chest pumping from the gravity of it all. After what seems an eternity, his head slowly swivels back to gaze upon you. "I am sorry," he whispers. One last glance towards the crib, and his features steel. "Fuck you," he whispers out aloud, and then he is off. His movements are swift, though perhaps not swift enough. He barrels towards Auresae, his dirk held out to one side, his whip uncoiling simultaneously in the other.
Falling into the crib as shoved, Aryanne grips at the wooden slats, rousing the child with a start and sending the peeling scream of a terrified infant into the domed chamber and effectively distracting Aryanne from the confrontation to stare down at the babe with a tortured longing, reaching out to touch his wailing face with a trembling stroke down the cheek as she shushes hurriedly, "Quiet on now! Juh... just wait a bit.. You'll be quite alright!"
Auresae's hand is out and on Trager's neck, Her arms so much longer than his so that he can't reach Her with the dirk. Slowly, She eases him down onto the floor, Her countenance calm and body relaxed shy of the tightness of Her fingers on his neck, nails digging sharply into flesh. "Remember that I am a benevolent Goddess," She coos at him, "I asked before I took. I offered her to give a sacrifice willingly to escape My vengeance."
The smell of burning flesh grows in the air, smoke rising from the Goddess' grip.
You have emoted: Aryanne's nostrils flare as her trembling arm shakes harder and she whispers to the wailing child, "Ah! I am! S-so! Sorry.. Will be good, promise?" Her eyes begin to prickle with moisture, though they refuse to shut as she stares at the child before finally turning her back and on him and demanding with a pathetic, sniffling plea, "Leave him - p-please? Ih.. Ah! I! I deserve it all uh-uhp!"
Trager's stunned appearance shows he knows not just what is happening, up until the burning pain at his neck, his spine, slowly brings him back to the present. He screams. Oh does he scream. Until he can no longer. Vocal chords not answering to their call, seared and severed that they are, his mouth still wide and agape despite the inability to form words or sound. Smoke rises out from his open jaw, the smell of his insides burning permeating the very air around him. Dirk forgotten, his own hands scrabble pointlessly at the Goddess' grip, and the light of his eyes slowly begins to fade.
Auresae suddenly releases Her grip, still kneeling beside Trager on the ground. "I will tell you one more time, politely, to give Me the child," She coos, "And I will leave you as you are. If you deny Me again, that pain will feel like a mere tickle. Trager Del'baeth, give Me the child."
Eyes wide as tears freely fall from the sockets, Aryanne shrinks to the floor, sliding against the railing of the wooden crib. Hopeless, she begs in a sob, "S-s-s-stop! He never! J-just.. She'll anyway! Don't.. I can't watch!" Her eyes are wide and, despite her words, unable to tear from Trager and Auresae, shaking hands wrapping defensively around her torso.
Trager's lips flounder noiselessly, his own hands coming up to touch gingerly at the burned flesh, but even that surely causes him pain beyond imagine. Heavy, wracking breaths, the most obtuse of wheezing sounds, are heard with each rise and fall of his chest as air barely manages to get past the wreckage of his throat. Still, words are not possible. His lips continue an almost comical appearing pantomime, evidently repeating the same thing over, and over, over and over. 'Not my son'. 'Not my son'. 'Not my son'.
Trager begins to intensify slowly until he appears flesh and blood once more.
Trager projects a net of light about himself, and you watch as his image becomes faded and ghostly.
Auresae gives a curt nod. "That's what I thought," She replies more curtly. This time She places Her hand squarely on Trager's chest. The smell of burning cloth rises swiftly before smoke begins to come up from his chest. "Do not worry," She comments idly, "I will not kill you. Nor, I think, touch your woman." She looks over to you and smiles pleasantly, "You do not need any physical pain to make My point, do you?"
Does his pain hurt you?
You have emoted: "Ahh-I" Aryanne strains through wrenching, desperate breaths between sobs, her red eyes unable to blink as she watches the man char and boil. The uncontrollable shaking in her arms bound tightly her chest jostle her voice even worse as she cries out, "Yehh.. Yesss... Aye! H-how... C-c-could! Cert...ly!"
The pain now at his chest, spreading, all-encompassing it his squirming. Trager's hands attempt to push Auresae's away, but the attempt only serves to burn the flesh of his hands along with it. The pain grows, the burning insistent, not-relenting, and the Yeleni's soundless screams begin to drift along with his consciousness. His eyes flutter, now only a fragment of his waking state. One arm reaches out above him, his digits clawing futilely at the woman and crib behind him.
Auresae releases Trager's chest, this time reaching to grab either side of his face. Again, the burning of flesh. Again, the wretched smell. This time worse, as She slides Her thumbs up, placing them lightly against his eyes.
However do Yours say 'pain'?
Do you want Me to stop?
Pleaaase... Please stop!
A beam of prismatic light suddenly shoots into the room.
Ashmer steps lightly off of the beam of prismatic light and settles into a hunched posture.
Trembling in a curled ball, Aryanne is lost in the corner between floor and furniture, shaking and broken, tears having stopped their path as she resolves herself to a furtively mumbled mantra, "Ah-I am sorry.. I am sorry.. Ever so Sorry, I love you," repeating the words in silent sob that only cracks as the putrid smell of burning flesh puffs in with each new breath.
Ashmer's mismatched gaze trails lightly over you, and then Trager, before settling on Auresae. The crested head tilts in a slow, reverent nod.
The smell of melted flesh is thick in the air and only getting worse
Trager's body begins to take on a very spastic shake as Auresae's fingers continue to set alight his flesh, his eyes. The skin boils and bubbles, though the true extent of his actual sight is unknown - though it certainly can not be good at this point in time. The shaking picks up, entering into an almost seizure-like episode as the pain threatens to overwhelm his body, mind and soul. Gone is any rational thought, his mouthing forming nothing that equates to words as his lips flounder on noiselessly.
The slits where Ashmer's nose once might have been flare slowly, and he seems to savor the heady stench.
Softly, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says, "Our apologies."
You know how to make it stop.
Auresae turns Her head to look up at you as Her fingers dig more and more slowly into Trager's eyes.
"JUST TAKE HIM!" Aryanne screams finally, her arms and legs finally finding some strength as they tremble beneath her, gripping and dragging herself back to stand as she shoots Ashmer a viciously blotchy-faced, sweat-slicked glare of wild resentment. The child's screams grow only louder as the wretched scent fills the room to a tangible taste-able film. Hands unsteady, she dips them below the babe, seeming to take particular care on hand-placement before raising him to her chest and turning to face Auresae once again, "Please - I! I just...! If you s-s-top! H-h-he.. You can.. Please!"
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "How painful for you."
That's all it takes. With your words, Auresae releases Trager and slowly rising to Her feet, holding Her arms out toward you. "Give him to Me," She says, "Confess your sins to the Hiale and then leave Mine and I will leave you."
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "We could show you another way."
Trager's form goes limp. Finally. The encompassing pain of his body reaching an altogether new threshold as the Goddess retracts her fingers, his mind melting away into blissful, sweet ignorance.
Ashmer's lidless eye rolls, affixing itself on Trager's limp form.
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "Though... perhaps this would be for the best, hm?"
You have emoted: Aryanne's legs move toward Auresae with a reluctant dirge of hopelessness, each step falling heavily to the floor as before she stands fully before Auresae, Trager sprawled uselessly at her side as she briefly cuts her eyes toward Ashmer and chides a watery huff of sadness, "You are too late for another way!" before looking back up to Auresae as all the fear of the encounter is writ plainly on her face and the mildly-soothed child is lifted toward the Goddess with a defeated nod, "As... As You.. As You quite wish."
Ashmer's slitted mouth twists into the ghost of a melancholy smile.
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "We know. We are sorry."
(Hiale): You say, "I have betrayed Her.. Dreadfully terribly - I do not deserve to be Her own, never did properly on. I am so dreadfully sorry. Slept about with the darkness and meant join it about, She trusted and I didn't! Didn't deserve it quite at all!"
Heaving a heavy sigh, you callously reject the patronage of Auresae.
Auresae steps over Trager without concern for him or his existence. She takes the child gingerly, pulling Her palla off of Her shoulder to wrap around the child carefully. "Good girl," She says condescendingly.
Softly, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says, "What is the child's name?"
Overwhelmed and looking up to Auresae, Aryanne's expression begins to draw blank as she asks, "Whatever is Your word for 'pain'?"
Trager stirs softly, only a slight twitch of his fingers to show he still lives. A low, almost inaudible hiss escaping through his nostrils as air only just still makes it into his lungs.
"Good girl," Auresae repeats, as if speaking to an obedient dog. She finally acknowledges Ashmer's existence, lifting Her lip in revulsion. "That is a good question, filth," She acknowledges before looking to you again, "Enkaita."
"Call him that," Aryanne responds with a hardening visage, her brow drawing tight as she fixes her red, swollen gaze on the child, limbs still shuddering and shaking despite her attempt at bravery.
"Enkaita," Auresae agrees, "The Traitor's Son."
An explosion of flame wreathes itself around Auresae's body, consuming Her entirely and leaving no trace of Her in its wake.
Fond thoughts of your homeland, Enorian, fill your head as you leave it, ready to embark on new adventures elsewhere.
Setting the Scene: Aryanne and Trager are sitting around, relaxing for the first time since Trager was kicked out for being a traitor. Aryanne is in Auresae's order and intending to leave Enorian (again). They have a one-month-old baby that Aryanne is feeding and insists they can't name yet, because it's bad luck.
Green stuff is Aryanne's thoughts, everything else was being fed to her from Auresae
I was on my phone when this started so I missed Auresae's initial emote but it was something akin to:
The room suddenly begins to heat around you, Trager seeming unaffected by the sudden warmth.
“I can attempt to put in a word, I am sure," Trager rumbles out thoughtfully. He leans back against the wall, his arms coming before him to cross over his chest. "You will be joining the city, aye? Of that, I am certain we can handle as soon as you lay the child down to rest - after he is fed, and such."
“You betrayed Me.”
Brows rising as a mild panic rises in her expression, Aryanne's arms tighten and her gaze turns hazy as she stares toward the skylight, beginning in a rushing alarm, "I! I am! I didn't -mean-! I simply! I hadn't wanted, ih..iht! it just! I meant not! I'd never q-q-quite!"
Trager’s own awareness soars immediately to new heights at your hurried, rushed tone. His eyes turn upwards, then shift back to you, curiosity etched across his features. "What is it?" he demands.
"-Betrayed-."
The heat in the room begins to skyrocket.
"No one has ever before!" Aryanne begins before her breathing picks up rapidly and she nearly tears the child from her chest, holding the bundled mass under the arms and out to Trager, careless of his stability, desperate to no longer be holding him. "I simply! I! I am! I wished! Finally found up! I! Ah-I! I am! S-sorry! C-can-can I? However can I?"
"How can you what? Betray Me further? Add insult to injury?"
Trager lurches forward, arms already outstretched to take the child before anything more then the light shakes that have befallen him happen. He takes up the baby in a rush, whirling away from you to check the baby for further harm before his eyes swivel about, fixating upon you. Unbridled fury awaits, no longer that amiable, comforting nature as he stares towards you. "What is wrong with you?" he rumbles out scathingly, scouring you form for information.
"Make it right!" Aryanne calls out desperately as soon as her hands are freed, her furrowed brow creasing with a line of sweat that begins to prickle at her brow and slowly drip down the side of her cheek, "I wished a proper favorite - no one's in ages - and then leaves up?! I!" With a glance to Trager, her eyes grow wider yet and she begins to fan herself slightly for relief, lamenting, "Just wished the one - the once on!"
YOU ARE STILL MY HIALE!!
Trager apparently realizes his words are getting himself nowhere. He turns around, crossing the room in a few, wide steps before he gently sets the child back down into its crib. When he turns once more, his visage is determined, rippling with an abrupt sort of fury. "Auresae?" he whispers out, the words accusing, searching. "Is this your work?" He voice is loud now, reverberating around the domed room they stand in.
You have emoted: "Whatever would you have of me?!" Aryanne cries out with anguish, stepping away from the chair to stand in a beam of light from the ceiling, "I! Whatever c-could?!" Her breath puffs quickly as more sweat drips down her face, coating her hair to her head before she hoarsely whispers, "You deserve better-on than -me-."
You wish to placate me, Aryanne? You want to know what to do to sate My wrath?
Nodding emphatically as she looks to Trager, you say, "Yeh-Aye!"
Give Me the child.
Trager has fallen silent, abruptly so, standing still near the sleeping child in a defensive sort of stance. "I don't know what you are thinking, Aryanne," he grits out slowly. "But you need to remember the baby you just gave birth to. Either leave, or control yourself."
Stiffening, Aryanne's eyes widen, flickering to the chair, crib, ceiling then back to Trager. Tone now hushed and brimming with emotion, she trembles in a drenching sweat, "Ehh... elsewise... Elsewise what?"
"Get a -hold- of yourself, Aryanne," Trager replies slowly, his heavy hands curling into tight fists where he stands. "Talk to -me-! Do not ask me to stand between whatever the Pit this is with you and our child," he warns softly. "For your sake, and his, I will choose the child."
You have emoted: Trager's words cowling her shoulders, Aryanne's fanning continues as her brows draw closer and she small woman's chest rises and falls quickly in panic before she finally croaks out to Trager, "Sh! She.. She wants him - ah-I! I don't know whatever She'd do, can't be over-dreadful.. I! I don't... Whichever would you have me do?"
He would have you tortured mindlessly before his child touched. If you give it to Me, I will walk away peacefully. You will be... safe.
You can always have another.
There it is. That subtle snap, the only hint of it being the harden of those emerald eyes. They go blank, his mouth flat, features impassive. "I will kill you," Trager rumbles out calmly. "And I will kill you again, and again, and again should you allow my child to be taken from me." He breathes in a heavy influx of air, his words coming to a brief pause as he gathers his thoughts. Each movement calculated, calm and apathetic to anything other then what is his, and what is being threatened. "If She takes him, I swear upon that child's life I will not stop, I will be relentless, a fucking hurricane that will know zero boundaries, until he is back, safe in my arms." A sinister dirk is palmed suddenly, hanging loose by his side in an almost lazy grip. "Tell Her -that-, Aryanne."
A strained wheeze of a noise slips from Aryanne's lips as she begins to tremble, looking back to the skylight to whimper, "You... You've the... Always the wisest of them, You were always..." Her head shifting with a jerking slide of her gaze back down to Trager, she whispers, "Whatever She.. P-Please don't h..hate?" Finally moving forward with staggering, uncertain steps, she comes to Trager's side, grasping the taller man's fist-ed hand within her own and looks up again to say with more fear than defiance, "No! I finally! I c-can't lose! I'm not!"
I can't lose him! However would I find another? Took too long! Can't let him hate me!
I will not hurt the child. He will be safe.
I will even give him to Rivas. You trust Rivas, don't you?
Riv! Rivas?! He'd not... He'd not hurt something up.. He'd... Trager would want him back.
I'd rather he hurt me up than Rivas...
You know Rivas is a good father. What do you know about Trager?
He loves me. He loves -him-. C-could... Could we have him back? Ih.. if.. If you took him on awhile?
We do not have to tell Trager that Rivas has the child.
Trager does not move, so iron-clad is his stance, so rigid, as if your touch is not even felt upon the Yeleni. "Not my son," he says, almost as if he is repeating a mantra to protect him and his from anything that might intrude upon his world. "Not my son. Not my son." His eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, though perhaps more importantly, pleading.
You'd! You'd need.. You'd need hurt me - I do not wish to hurt him! He was ever so excited.
You can always have another. Ten more if you like.
Aryanne catches Trager's gaze with her own sweat-slicked expression of anxious desperation and a shaky nod. Her words are soft as a hand draws up to tremblingly cup Trager's jaw, "Sh-she hasn't my blessing." The promise rings with a twinge of pain and a choke that causes her to glance back to the crib and child in question before turning her gaze back to Trager and adding with more determination, "Will -not- lose you to hate for me."
"I learned a long time ago I can not fight the will of the Gods," Trager whispers out, still pleading, still hungry for some sort of sign that his child is not to be harmed. "She does not have your blessing, but will She leave us be? Tell Her! Tell Her to leave him alone!"
Where there was nothing, now there is Auresae.
"Very well," Auresae says, looking very calm, "It is your choice, Trager. You can give Me the child to properly foster and save her from pain.." She smiles, slowly, sadistically as She looks over to you, "Or I will take the child and play with Aryanne just the same."
Aryanne gasps in softly as her hands clutch for Trager's tunic, her eyes for Auresae alone as she cries out a desperate, pleading, "NO! He loves him!"
Trager's arms come up at the appearance of Auresae, and he bodily shoves you behind him in the direction of the crib even amidst you pleas. "Why?" he whispers out, stepping forward bodily towards the Goddess. "You can not ask this of me, You can't!" The dirk is still held in one hand, and fingers dance a tightening grip over the haft, as if readying himself. "Leave us -alone-!"
"I can ask what I please," Auresae replies calmly, taking a single step closer, "And I can take what I please. She betrayed Me. Hand the boy over willingly and no one will be hurt. I will see that he is raised properly, safely." She reaches up with a hand, casually pushing Her hair over Her shoulder, the locks licking at Her flesh like living flame.
Trager movements are of a man in distress, flighty, his chest pumping from the gravity of it all. After what seems an eternity, his head slowly swivels back to gaze upon you. "I am sorry," he whispers. One last glance towards the crib, and his features steel. "Fuck you," he whispers out aloud, and then he is off. His movements are swift, though perhaps not swift enough. He barrels towards Auresae, his dirk held out to one side, his whip uncoiling simultaneously in the other.
Falling into the crib as shoved, Aryanne grips at the wooden slats, rousing the child with a start and sending the peeling scream of a terrified infant into the domed chamber and effectively distracting Aryanne from the confrontation to stare down at the babe with a tortured longing, reaching out to touch his wailing face with a trembling stroke down the cheek as she shushes hurriedly, "Quiet on now! Juh... just wait a bit.. You'll be quite alright!"
Auresae's hand is out and on Trager's neck, Her arms so much longer than his so that he can't reach Her with the dirk. Slowly, She eases him down onto the floor, Her countenance calm and body relaxed shy of the tightness of Her fingers on his neck, nails digging sharply into flesh. "Remember that I am a benevolent Goddess," She coos at him, "I asked before I took. I offered her to give a sacrifice willingly to escape My vengeance."
The smell of burning flesh grows in the air, smoke rising from the Goddess' grip.
You have emoted: Aryanne's nostrils flare as her trembling arm shakes harder and she whispers to the wailing child, "Ah! I am! S-so! Sorry.. Will be good, promise?" Her eyes begin to prickle with moisture, though they refuse to shut as she stares at the child before finally turning her back and on him and demanding with a pathetic, sniffling plea, "Leave him - p-please? Ih.. Ah! I! I deserve it all uh-uhp!"
Trager's stunned appearance shows he knows not just what is happening, up until the burning pain at his neck, his spine, slowly brings him back to the present. He screams. Oh does he scream. Until he can no longer. Vocal chords not answering to their call, seared and severed that they are, his mouth still wide and agape despite the inability to form words or sound. Smoke rises out from his open jaw, the smell of his insides burning permeating the very air around him. Dirk forgotten, his own hands scrabble pointlessly at the Goddess' grip, and the light of his eyes slowly begins to fade.
Auresae suddenly releases Her grip, still kneeling beside Trager on the ground. "I will tell you one more time, politely, to give Me the child," She coos, "And I will leave you as you are. If you deny Me again, that pain will feel like a mere tickle. Trager Del'baeth, give Me the child."
Eyes wide as tears freely fall from the sockets, Aryanne shrinks to the floor, sliding against the railing of the wooden crib. Hopeless, she begs in a sob, "S-s-s-stop! He never! J-just.. She'll anyway! Don't.. I can't watch!" Her eyes are wide and, despite her words, unable to tear from Trager and Auresae, shaking hands wrapping defensively around her torso.
Trager's lips flounder noiselessly, his own hands coming up to touch gingerly at the burned flesh, but even that surely causes him pain beyond imagine. Heavy, wracking breaths, the most obtuse of wheezing sounds, are heard with each rise and fall of his chest as air barely manages to get past the wreckage of his throat. Still, words are not possible. His lips continue an almost comical appearing pantomime, evidently repeating the same thing over, and over, over and over. 'Not my son'. 'Not my son'. 'Not my son'.
Trager begins to intensify slowly until he appears flesh and blood once more.
Trager projects a net of light about himself, and you watch as his image becomes faded and ghostly.
Auresae gives a curt nod. "That's what I thought," She replies more curtly. This time She places Her hand squarely on Trager's chest. The smell of burning cloth rises swiftly before smoke begins to come up from his chest. "Do not worry," She comments idly, "I will not kill you. Nor, I think, touch your woman." She looks over to you and smiles pleasantly, "You do not need any physical pain to make My point, do you?"
Does his pain hurt you?
You have emoted: "Ahh-I" Aryanne strains through wrenching, desperate breaths between sobs, her red eyes unable to blink as she watches the man char and boil. The uncontrollable shaking in her arms bound tightly her chest jostle her voice even worse as she cries out, "Yehh.. Yesss... Aye! H-how... C-c-could! Cert...ly!"
The pain now at his chest, spreading, all-encompassing it his squirming. Trager's hands attempt to push Auresae's away, but the attempt only serves to burn the flesh of his hands along with it. The pain grows, the burning insistent, not-relenting, and the Yeleni's soundless screams begin to drift along with his consciousness. His eyes flutter, now only a fragment of his waking state. One arm reaches out above him, his digits clawing futilely at the woman and crib behind him.
Auresae releases Trager's chest, this time reaching to grab either side of his face. Again, the burning of flesh. Again, the wretched smell. This time worse, as She slides Her thumbs up, placing them lightly against his eyes.
However do Yours say 'pain'?
Do you want Me to stop?
Pleaaase... Please stop!
A beam of prismatic light suddenly shoots into the room.
Ashmer steps lightly off of the beam of prismatic light and settles into a hunched posture.
Trembling in a curled ball, Aryanne is lost in the corner between floor and furniture, shaking and broken, tears having stopped their path as she resolves herself to a furtively mumbled mantra, "Ah-I am sorry.. I am sorry.. Ever so Sorry, I love you," repeating the words in silent sob that only cracks as the putrid smell of burning flesh puffs in with each new breath.
Ashmer's mismatched gaze trails lightly over you, and then Trager, before settling on Auresae. The crested head tilts in a slow, reverent nod.
The smell of melted flesh is thick in the air and only getting worse
Trager's body begins to take on a very spastic shake as Auresae's fingers continue to set alight his flesh, his eyes. The skin boils and bubbles, though the true extent of his actual sight is unknown - though it certainly can not be good at this point in time. The shaking picks up, entering into an almost seizure-like episode as the pain threatens to overwhelm his body, mind and soul. Gone is any rational thought, his mouthing forming nothing that equates to words as his lips flounder on noiselessly.
The slits where Ashmer's nose once might have been flare slowly, and he seems to savor the heady stench.
Softly, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says, "Our apologies."
You know how to make it stop.
Auresae turns Her head to look up at you as Her fingers dig more and more slowly into Trager's eyes.
"JUST TAKE HIM!" Aryanne screams finally, her arms and legs finally finding some strength as they tremble beneath her, gripping and dragging herself back to stand as she shoots Ashmer a viciously blotchy-faced, sweat-slicked glare of wild resentment. The child's screams grow only louder as the wretched scent fills the room to a tangible taste-able film. Hands unsteady, she dips them below the babe, seeming to take particular care on hand-placement before raising him to her chest and turning to face Auresae once again, "Please - I! I just...! If you s-s-top! H-h-he.. You can.. Please!"
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "How painful for you."
That's all it takes. With your words, Auresae releases Trager and slowly rising to Her feet, holding Her arms out toward you. "Give him to Me," She says, "Confess your sins to the Hiale and then leave Mine and I will leave you."
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "We could show you another way."
Trager's form goes limp. Finally. The encompassing pain of his body reaching an altogether new threshold as the Goddess retracts her fingers, his mind melting away into blissful, sweet ignorance.
Ashmer's lidless eye rolls, affixing itself on Trager's limp form.
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "Though... perhaps this would be for the best, hm?"
You have emoted: Aryanne's legs move toward Auresae with a reluctant dirge of hopelessness, each step falling heavily to the floor as before she stands fully before Auresae, Trager sprawled uselessly at her side as she briefly cuts her eyes toward Ashmer and chides a watery huff of sadness, "You are too late for another way!" before looking back up to Auresae as all the fear of the encounter is writ plainly on her face and the mildly-soothed child is lifted toward the Goddess with a defeated nod, "As... As You.. As You quite wish."
Ashmer's slitted mouth twists into the ghost of a melancholy smile.
Ashmer whispers into your consciousness, "We know. We are sorry."
(Hiale): You say, "I have betrayed Her.. Dreadfully terribly - I do not deserve to be Her own, never did properly on. I am so dreadfully sorry. Slept about with the darkness and meant join it about, She trusted and I didn't! Didn't deserve it quite at all!"
Heaving a heavy sigh, you callously reject the patronage of Auresae.
Auresae steps over Trager without concern for him or his existence. She takes the child gingerly, pulling Her palla off of Her shoulder to wrap around the child carefully. "Good girl," She says condescendingly.
Softly, Nihilus Ashmer Ras'valyra says, "What is the child's name?"
Overwhelmed and looking up to Auresae, Aryanne's expression begins to draw blank as she asks, "Whatever is Your word for 'pain'?"
Trager stirs softly, only a slight twitch of his fingers to show he still lives. A low, almost inaudible hiss escaping through his nostrils as air only just still makes it into his lungs.
"Good girl," Auresae repeats, as if speaking to an obedient dog. She finally acknowledges Ashmer's existence, lifting Her lip in revulsion. "That is a good question, filth," She acknowledges before looking to you again, "Enkaita."
"Call him that," Aryanne responds with a hardening visage, her brow drawing tight as she fixes her red, swollen gaze on the child, limbs still shuddering and shaking despite her attempt at bravery.
"Enkaita," Auresae agrees, "The Traitor's Son."
An explosion of flame wreathes itself around Auresae's body, consuming Her entirely and leaving no trace of Her in its wake.
Fond thoughts of your homeland, Enorian, fill your head as you leave it, ready to embark on new adventures elsewhere.
10
Comments
One of those really defining moments your characters life, it feels like. It has a strange tinge of something that most definitely hits me at home in RL, that sort of nightmare where the one thing in your life you would do anything for is ripped away from you, and there isn't a single thing you can do about it. Forced to watch, basically. That's what I equated this RP to.
Thanks everyone that contributed!
I always wonder about stuff like this.. is it planned out? Do the Gods just roll with it? Do the people? I can see Enkaita making an appearance down the road, it's all around great. (Keep us informed! It's like mini stories and I hate not knowing how things turn out.)
I love the level of involvement from the admin that I've seen. It makes for some interesting stories,
Note: I am biased. Markedly so. But I personally think that the punishment suited the nature of the offense. I'd also be interested in seeing how close my assessment was to the actual motives.
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Always interested in knowing how I'm doing!
Edit: On what @Moirean said: I found Aurasae's reaction to Aryanne's betrayal to be really jarring too. Interesting, but jarring.
Also, I maintain:
the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
open hand or closed fist would be fine
blood as rare and sweet as cherry wine
@ianea - The extent of "planning" on this from the participants was an OOC acknowledgement by players to Auresae that we players were OK with something horrible happening to our characters/the baby.
@Ashmer - After was good too, yeah! This just felt like smoother spot to end it, at least from Ary's POV.
I was just saying that bit was cool. Y'all were great.
the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
open hand or closed fist would be fine
blood as rare and sweet as cherry wine
I mean, I luff you. And you're awesome.
But WHYYYYYYYY.
Trager. Bro for life, biggest fucking pain in my ass -everrrr-.
Finally got to read this. That was intense. Great work.
i am rapture coder
HOWEVER! several people have asked me to share the "resolution" part of getting the baby back, so here ya go!
What is missing that pre-empted this: Aryanne and Auresae had a bit of a "cooled down" heart to heart that was on my crappy phone internet, so I have no record of it to share. Basically, they aired things out a bit and Aryanne apologized for her betrayal, explained that her insecurities, "foolish desires", wish to do "right", and low self-opinion lead her astray from Auresae. Auresae was largely angry that Aryanne didn't say anything and was going behind her back with her plans to leave.
Then, the next month (when back on internet that can log things)
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A desolate stretch of forest before a wrought-iron door.
A small note with something scribbled upon its surface lies here, forgotten. Trager Del'baeth is here, shrouded. A raging thunderstorm rumbles ominously overhead that pours forth a torrential downpour upon the ground here.
My Aryanne, My lovely, lovely Aryanne. Do you love Me?
Aryanne's eyes open wide and she looks around the forest, glancing to the resting Trager before nodding a few times and whispering with tortured sincerity, "Certainly of course. However could I -not-?"
I want you to be happy. You understand this, don't you? ...don't you?
Shoulders drooping shyly, Aryanne paces away from the door a bit as she shakes her head to return verbally, "Can quite hardly imagine why I ought deserve that up. Been selfish on and foolish as ever!" childishly batting at her skirt, she adds, "Selfish folk do not deserve proper happiness as all that."
How can you make this right with Me?
"I!" Aryanne starts, looking up into the unnaturally pervasively storming sky, squinting against the rainfall to work up an answer, expression helpless until she guesses doubtfully, "Return?"
We both know that will not happen. But can you live with them, that filth, and still embody what I teach?
Continuing to stare up into the dark sky, Aryanne's head bobs in an emphatic nod, rain soaked locks sticking to her face haphazardly as she insists with a bundle of her hands to her chest, "Certainly of -course-! However could I think to do much else besides?" Glancing back to Trager again for a moment, she adds more quietly, as if afraid to rouse him, "Daresay, seen the dreadful sorts of shadows up proper, know on well whyever they must stop. Their own sort see them for what they are, too. You've the right of it as You quite always have, Miss Lady Fire Goddess, ma'am."
But what of your love, the traitor? Can you keep him from further darkness?
Biting on her lower lip, Aryanne turns back to Trager with a brow-furrowed longing, her hands curling tighter together as she watches him with an uncertain huff from her nose.
Mayhaps... But quite certainly not without his son.
Waking now, Trager stumbles closer, rubbing the sleep at his eyes as he enters the downpour. He arches a single eyebrow as his ears catch hold of the end of your words, but immediately furrows down as it begins to make sense in his mind. "Where is She?" he rasps out bluntly.
As far as I am concerned, the child is -yours-, My Aryanne, and yours alone. Whether or not you get him back depends on you, not Trager.
"I am here," comes first a voice, and then the Goddess. She looks between you two before focusing on Trager, a wrapped up bundle in Her arms. "Your love and I have been having quite a nice conversation."
Eyes first catching Trager, Aryanne's brows rise with apology at Trager's waking entrance, murmuring, "Quite meant to let you rest," before turning to Auresae and letting her gaze settle on the obvious bundle in Auresae's arms with a desirous whimper of, "Mine..."
Yours.
Trager's countenance shifts darker at the sudden appearance, but when his eyes fall onto the wrapped bundle in Auresae's arm, and his jaw goes slack. "Come to taunt us, Lady?" he rasps out painfully, one hand coming up to his throat as if to help pass the words from his lips.
"Merely come to talk," Auresae says in a calm, casual tone. She nods Her head once in your direction, adding, "She and I have been having a quite excellent conversation, but I do believe it is time for you to join it. Can you do such as a normal mortal, or will you descend into a rabid dog again?"
"Mine," Aryanne echoes again with a tone suggesting the thought had not before occurred to the small woman. Straightening with some confidence, she flips her gaze toward Trager, shooting a quick, warning stare along with a gentle grasp to his tunic, as if the hold might keep the large man at bay.
Trager's eyes return a cold, detached glare towards the Goddess, his hands twitching errantly at the belt around his waist. He glances once more towards you before his chin comes down in a near indiscernible mark of acceptance. "Very well," he rasps out painfully. "It is time for me to visit one of Yours this month, anyway."
"Roux is one of Mine. Would you kill your own family?" Auresae questions, cocking Her head to the side, "No, I do not think you would. Your conviction is not that strong; you merely pick off the weak without effort, killing those innocent of crime for My action. They cannot defend themselves against you just as you cannot defend yourself against Me." She takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly before looking back to you. "You understand what I have told you, I think," She says, "You have given Me the proper recompense I desire."
With a slight grimace at Trager's words, Aryanne's hand curls in tighter to Trager's tunic as if a tighter
grip might assist to deflate his intentions. As Auresae's attention turns back to Aryanne, she looks back with a start, nodding quickly as a hopeful gleam brightens her eyes, "I! I do quite - I mean do properly right by Your teachings up. Daresay, regardless where about the place I end!"
"I will listen," Trager rasps out softly as he moves back to a few paces away from the well.
"Do you have sins, Trager?" Auresae questions. As the child bundled in Her arms begins to fuss, She rises up onto Her toes and begins bouncing lightly, eyes still on Trager.
Trager slides into movement, his steps carrying him towards you as the pouring rain once again sets about soaking his clothing. "That depends on Your definition of Sin, Lady," he breathes out softly, his eyes refusing to stray from the squirming child.
Aryanne's eyes widen marginally, drawn to the fussing babe with an anxious chewing on her lower lip, hands curling in her skirt as she lets the two speak uninterrupted.
"What do -you- define, Trager?" Auresae questions, "This is about you, what you have done and what you will do."
Does he understand? Will he see? Will he deny? Or will he lie to Me?
"Sin is failure to act," Trager replies almost instantly, as if the words come so very easily to his lips. "Sin is witnessing atrocity, and doing nothing. Sin is knowing you can do something to save those you love, and refusing to respond. Sin is allowing the opinions of others to dictate what you know you have to do, to keep those you care about safe at night."
At the leastbit, he'd not lie quite on purpose... Mayhaps simply for not understanding what ought be properly right?
"Safe at night?" Auresae questions, shifting the child to one arm before gesturing around Her, "And you wish a city of vampires and rot safe?" She lowers Her hand, shaking Her head at Trager. "I do not expect you to return to where you belong," She says, "But I do expect more sense out of you than you are giving Me."
Aryanne's brow falls with defeat at Trager's reply, turning back to the taller man from the squirming child to huff a disappointed sigh at Trager's reply before turning back to Auresae and chiming in hopefully, "Daresay best he doesn't care on for their lot then, aye?"
"I have witnesses the harshest of atrocities dealt at the -light's- hand, Lady," Trager rasps out slowly, a taunting edge sinking into the harshness of his voice, "Then I have since moving North amidst -them."
Auresae sighs out, shaking Her head as She looks away from Trager, beginning to slowly pace. "You betrayed your brother's trust," She says, "And still he stood firm beside you. What have you done to deserve such a thing?"
The child is -yours-, My Aryanne. I want you to understand that, inside and out. You carried him, you gave birth to him, you feed him. Trager is nothing. And when he shows his true colors to you, you will take the child with you when you leave.
Trager's hair lies matted and flat as dozens of small rivulets from the perpetual rain stream down his features. "He is my kin, my companion throughout all our years together," he returns solemnly. His head turns slowly, eyes following after Auresae as She paces around slowly. "He knows my reasons, he.. He can understand them. No one else seemed to even try."
Her attempted bolster to Trager's cause clearly useless, Aryanne's eyes snap back to Auresae as they widen with a nagging concern, flickering a few moments between Goddess and child before flicking back with a quick turn of her head to Trager once more to murmur under her breath, "Folk keep insisting... Always so sure."
"Time will tell," Auresae says to you. While the two mortals are soaked in rain, the Goddess is dry, the droplets never coming close to touching Her as they dissolve into steam above Her head. "Well," She says to Trager, "It is a good thing that your flimsy justification holds no weight in the child's life." She speaks to Trager, though turns Her gaze to you. "-She- was the one who betrayed Me," She says, "And she was also the one who admitted her wrongs and swears to make right. And so, I life her punishment." Stepping forward, She lays the child, still bundled up in an airy, sheer gold palla, into your arms. "I suggest you give him a new name, Aryanne Aquila."
Gaze almost doubtful, Aryanne's arms rise tremulously, staring at her returned son with a hesitant glee. Her voice is hushed, though high as she tentatively draws him close, as if worried he might disappear should she move too quick to accept, "Yuh-Yuh.. You quite quite mean it, Miss Lady Goddess, Auresae, ma'am?!"
Trager's inches slowly, his movements so very apprehensive, so cautioned, as if at any moment a trick might be sprung, and what he desires so dearly ripped away once more. Finally his hands come down at your hips, his neck craning over gently to stare at the bundle now nestled safely in you arms. There, a smile. Tentative, so cautious, but a smile, playing coy at the corners of his lips.
"Our son.."
"Trager, you will make restitution as well," Auresae says in a commanding voice as She steps back from the two, "Not to Me, but to Melantha. It is her you have wronged in your ways."
Trager's head snaps up from his obsession with the child, finding Auresae once more. His eyes harden, so sunken and red-rimmed from injury not just a few months ago.
Certainty that Auresae hasn't meant the return as a trick begins to show upon Aryanne's face as she draws the palla-bundled, squirming child closer to her chest, murmuring protectively, "-My- son." and nodding to Auresae in agree, the gesture curt despite the heightened joy across her features, answering for the man, "He will!"
Melantha has been slain by the magical power of the creature beneath Tiyen Esityi.
"Our... son.." Trager rasps out softly. Just beneath the soft words lingers something more. A reminder, a promise, perhaps something more pointed. Whatever private thoughts the Yeleni is conveying apparently come to an end, and he turns away from Auresae, offering nothing else. All too content is he now to simply stare, stare at the woman and child before him.
"Will he?" Auresae questions you, though it's clear She doesn't expect an answer. She steps forward once more, forcing you to hold the child in one arm so that She can take the other. "I give you this gift, My Aryanne. Whether you choose to wear it or not is your decision, but know that it is a symbol of My faith in you, despite how things have happened." With that, She lays a mithril and emberite necklace across your open hand, closing your fingers around it.
Aryanne narrows her eyes briefly at Trager with determination before Auresae's approach snaps her attention away. Her hold on the child locks tight in the new position, probably too tight by his increased squirming fuss in the palla while her fingers close over the gift with astonishment, "Ah.. I! I will always... I -promise- My Lady Goddess, ma'am!" She bundles the necklace in toward her chest, pressing it to her sternum as she turns her wide-eyed stare to Trager and effuses with a high tone of surmounting joy, "-Our- son."
Trager's lips come down atop your brow, and still no more attention is paid to the Goddess, despite even your words. The child. Their son. His eyes only hold the capability to stare downwards. One arm comes around you, rising up from the hip to tug and loosen one of the limbs encircling the child. "Gently," comes his rasping whisper, though genuine, and caring, it comes out.
"Stay true to your word, Aryanne," Auresae says with a single nod.
-end-