Artist, Tailor, Killer

Galilei

A small snippet of RP with @Abhorash after an encounter with @Lin and @Rasani. Did not expect I'd get such a succinct depiction of Gali's story from here, and much love for this session, short as it was.

The seat of the Progenitor.
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. The long passageway from the north leads to this large semicircle terrace. Open-air, the room offers a breathtaking view of both the Alcazar and its housing volcano; though the room stands exposed, no hint of the volcano's oppressive heat touches the chilly terrace. The wide, straight edge of the semicircle serves as a reception area, bereft of any comfort or amenity save ample space and sure footing. Dominating the southern curve of the terrace is a massive dais, meticulously-cut steps ascending to a smooth platform. A massive throne of black marble adorns the dais, harsh against the backdrop of the lava pit. There are 9 wailing banshees here. Crowning the steps of the dais, the throne of the Progenitor radiates cold authority. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A banshee stands next to the fountain. The imperious presence of Abhorash dominates the room here. A moat of blood surrounds the throne at the southern end of the chamber, allowing only a single walkway to the steps of the throne's dais.
You see a single exit leading north.

He is a powerful Azudim vampire and stands at a moderate height, pale as snow and with a slender, powerful frame. Although he is mostly Human in appearance, a few things serve to distinguish his true Azudim nature. His thin fingers end in long, vicious claws, and deadly fangs curl over his lips, which are generally given to a derisive sneer. His face seems as if it has been carved from marble - high cheekbones, a powerful jawline, and a long nose define his visage, and his glacier blue eyes sit beneath his tall brow. His blonde hair, cropped short, has been swept back from his face and parted at the middle. Translucent strands of spiderweb periodically weave around his form, empowering him with Iosyne's blessing.
He is wearing:
a midnight-blue brocade waistcoat, a slender, draping bow at its side
dove-grey formal trousers, creaseless and smart
a simple black linen dress shirt, snugly fitted
a smoke-hued silk cravat stenciled in ebony, knotted flawlessly about the neck
armoured leather boots, laced to the knees

You have emoted: Galilei stops at the beginning of the walkway and at parade rest. Her head remains unbent, too far away for a proper greeting, until she lets her voice carry over the distance. "Progenitor."

Abhorash raises his head, broken from whatever reverie he had settled in. The distance between the two of you too great for conversation, the vampire simply motions for you to approach.

You have emoted: Galilei's bootfalls are metronome-sharp upon the stone beneath her, and she stops a few paces before Abhorash's throne for a deep incline of her head rather than a salute. "A brief report: Two Enorianites were found at the site of El'Jazira. One had come to mourn the loss of their home, and the other was simply there to stop him from falling over. I was there to oversee, and both left without incident."

You say, "If for the sake of their nationalities, I can report the same to the War Minister, though
I believe there was no hostile mission hidden in what I have seen."

Amusement colours Abhorash's reply, though no trace of it shows on his face. "I do not imagine they found much of interest left there," he says, voice as casual as genocide can be.

You have emoted: Galilei's face, too, is impassive in this demonstration of the Bloodlochian way. "No, unfortunately for them." A pause, slightly hesitant, and she asks, "Progenitor, do you foresee the town rebuilding itself?"

It is now midnight on Tisday, the 6th of Ios, year 495 of the Midnight Age.

(Bloodloch): A humble bellman says, "Midnight is upon us."

"Barren towns are hardly worth ruling," Abhorash answers. "Focus remains on the two remaining upstart territories, but each Thronekeeper will see to his or her own territory when all are brought back to heel."

You have emoted: "Surprising - and convenient - that the rest of the world remains largely indifferent to the fate of these territories." Galilei shakes her head. "The other tether's dislike for slavery has kept them from intervening, and it is good that Sapience need not tear itself to pieces over one nation's dispute."

"Doubtless they had their own more pressing problems," Abhorash replies, waving away the weight of culling a population that had stood for centuries. The conversation, however, sparks some recollection in Abhorash as the Progenitor leans forward atop the throne - for the first time since you entered, he seems invested in the words bandied about. "The Sheikh met his demise at your own hands. Did you enjoy settling what arose from his death?"

You have emoted: "I would not call it enjoyment." But the reply does not rise from sentiment. "Enlightenment, perhaps. One has to harden, in the end, if death will no longer be a permanent rest for them." Galilei dips her head; her veil is still over the movement, and the silver that cages her hair faintly gleams amber in the lava's glow behind her. "Bloodloch's methods of settling disputes have their merits - no loose ends, a message delivered - and atrocities happen every day in the world."

You say, "El'Jazira's leader died. Something like this would have happened in the end, and I do not see Bloodloch, in its traditional spirit, having dealt with it any other way."

Abhorash studies you intently as you answer. "Enjoyment or enlightenment, you are ever enthusiastic to shed blood when called upon," the vampire says after you finish. Abhorash leans further forward, resting his elbows upon his knees. "Many are quick to proclaim their dedication but few follow through. Artist. Tailor. Killer. You have done well with actions over words."

You have emoted: The last word does not visibly faze her - Galilei is determined not to look away from her deeds. "Someday perhaps my heart will come to be one with my actions," she says quietly. "Orders can lift a burden from one's mind, but they have their limits. As long as my place remains in Bloodloch, its part I will likely play, Progenitor." Her voice is that of one who searches, holding no regrets, no revulsion, and no relish.

You say, "A difficult balance, to keep one's mind free..." There is no mention of belief, not yet - "while being assimilated enough to be at peace."

Abhorash raises an eyebrow at your words. His harsh stare locks onto yours without reprieve, unmoving and unblinking. "And if I decide you are the one to give those orders? If I place the subjugation of the Lich Gardens in your hands?"

You have emoted: Galilei exhales, a gesture unnecessary for undead. "That is your choice," she says quietly. "I have earned, and been entrusted with, my position. I should do it justice."

The non-answer draws the beginnings of a smile from Abhorash as he settles back against the throne once more, arms rising to settle on the handrests. "Unfortunately for you, the Imperator of the Teradrim shows initiative at the directive I gave him. There will have to be another time when the orders, the mind's burdens, are entrusted to you." Opportunity or threat, that proclamation carries unmistakable promise.

You have emoted: "No growth without pain." Galilei nods once, grim. "I will meet the challenge, but for now - I ought to take my leave, Progenitor." She straightens. "I will not be found wanting."

(Bloodloch): A humble bellman says, "The curse of dawn approaches."

Abhorash frees you from his stare, waving his hand in dismissal. "It will be simple. Just picture the Sheikh on each one you slaughter."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across your lips.

You say, "That I shall."

You incline your head politely to those around you.