The high born celestial was harder to handle than Ieridenth had ever anticipated. It was easy to see why he was cast out and put in this place; he was a violent, arrogant, and mouthy being with a propensity to wish death on any who disagreed with him. Ieridenth had to break up so many arguments, so many fights, and now, near death. It was cumbersome to say the least.
Satisfied he had put the issue to rest, Ieridenth went into his room and closed the door behind him. He thumbed through his books, to no avail. What he needed was not there. He closed his eyes and left his body. It was a skill none of the Fallen Fallen knew he had, and he wasn't going to share. It was a bit of a cross between Astral Projection and physically being there.It was very little energy for him to project himself, but if he wanted something...
Ieridenth whipped into the Crawling City, his projection unseen by the denizens who stood making plans and deals. He went into the home of the General, into the library he knew was there. He sought through the tomes at his leisure until stumbling across the leather-bound spine bearing the words, "Celestial Brutes of the Planes of Elysium." Ieridenth looked around his projection. He was alone in the room.
He incanted yet another spell that brought him some measure of physicality, and conjured his bag of invisibility. Deftly he whisked the book off the shelf and into the bag, all while the body sitting far away in the cavern was sweating with concentration. He was losing energy fast, and so Ieridenth worked his projection out of the General's home, flew through the city's moving streets.
Ieridenth let out a loud exhale of breath as the tome slid from the bag into his hands. He smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead and cracked open the book. 'Dedicated to the brothers and sisters we have lost to the bloodthirsty and self-righteous cravings of the Celestials. May their fall be far and their deaths be painful.' He let out a chuckle and turned to the contents, his eyes finally seeing what he was looking for:
'Chapter 7: Guardinals and Their Uses'
Accepting Insults
Velentham laid in the cavernous home of the Fallen Fallen with calculating eyes. The men that came in were jovial enough, and most seemed willing to share with him whatever bounty they came across. As unbelievable as it was, this hellish place had cities tucked away, populated by demons. The Fallen Fallen would go out in droves, catch wealthy demons unawares, slay them and take their money, trinkets, and gems. They added them to the hoard and used them to barter with higher demons later.
"Ey, lad," Gurk called, shuffling into the cavern. "Thinkin' ya might take a shinin' ta fixin up yourn leg and joinin us next time?"
"Ya got yer magic, fix it already, bloody hell," joined Rourke.
"I don't feel like it," said Velentham.
"Right princess, this un," Gurk said with a snort.
"Watch your tongue," Velentham hissed.
"Or what? You'll actually get up n' do somethin' fer a change?"
Velentham began to chant. In his eyes, the entire cavern was the color of milk in water, the bodies of the men inside showed as dark, like shadows. It was the way he saw evil, a way that enabled him to see in any light, to target, to hunt. He could feel the massive voltage growing, traveling his limbs to his hand held aloft. He could feel the tips of his fingers beginning to tingle with restrained energy, then he let it go.
The white hot light shot through the space and suddenly vanished. Velentham snarled as he jerked his eyes over to Ieridenth. 'The swaggering idiot,' Velentham thought.
"That's no way to treat your hosts," Ieridenth smirked. "And you, Gurk, watch your mouth. Our guest is healing."
"Guest my bald arse," he snapped. "He tried ta kill me he did."
"You deserved it," Ieridenth grinned.
"Son of hell," Gurk cursed.
"Friend," Ieridenth said, walking to Velentham, "You have to excuse Gurk. Sometimes we don't get along down in this pit, but if we always flung lightning there'd not be enough of us to go around."
Velentham glared at Ieridenth, who looked the color of a shadow in the milky whiteness. He knew he was dealing with beings just as twisted as those in Heifong, the only difference was that now he saw them as they were. He closed his eyes with a grumble and shoved his ire with Gurk from his mind.
"Ey, lad," Gurk called, shuffling into the cavern. "Thinkin' ya might take a shinin' ta fixin up yourn leg and joinin us next time?"
"Ya got yer magic, fix it already, bloody hell," joined Rourke.
"I don't feel like it," said Velentham.
"Right princess, this un," Gurk said with a snort.
"Watch your tongue," Velentham hissed.
"Or what? You'll actually get up n' do somethin' fer a change?"
Velentham began to chant. In his eyes, the entire cavern was the color of milk in water, the bodies of the men inside showed as dark, like shadows. It was the way he saw evil, a way that enabled him to see in any light, to target, to hunt. He could feel the massive voltage growing, traveling his limbs to his hand held aloft. He could feel the tips of his fingers beginning to tingle with restrained energy, then he let it go.
The white hot light shot through the space and suddenly vanished. Velentham snarled as he jerked his eyes over to Ieridenth. 'The swaggering idiot,' Velentham thought.
"That's no way to treat your hosts," Ieridenth smirked. "And you, Gurk, watch your mouth. Our guest is healing."
"Guest my bald arse," he snapped. "He tried ta kill me he did."
"You deserved it," Ieridenth grinned.
"Son of hell," Gurk cursed.
"Friend," Ieridenth said, walking to Velentham, "You have to excuse Gurk. Sometimes we don't get along down in this pit, but if we always flung lightning there'd not be enough of us to go around."
Velentham glared at Ieridenth, who looked the color of a shadow in the milky whiteness. He knew he was dealing with beings just as twisted as those in Heifong, the only difference was that now he saw them as they were. He closed his eyes with a grumble and shoved his ire with Gurk from his mind.
Turning Tide
The next day had come and gone and Sanria was once again laying in bed with Gilean, taking stock of everything. Gilean had noted digging on the grave, and Sanria had to fess up to her feelings - that Velentham had ruined her life. Gilean stared at her for a moment before reminding her that her life wasn't ruined. He was there, their family was there, even Colin had been given back his memories and while not with her, had the knowledge of what family he did have - Orn, Leandra, and his grandchildren.
Still, Sanria felt the loss of the first child Velentham took, and the loss of the second she had done in herself. Then she finally admitted it, the feeling she'd been holding as secret since the return of Colin's mind. "I don't think I can do this."
She was showered in love - held, kissed, reassured. It was the first time she'd felt, strangely enough, that Gilean wanted her and was ready to do anything to keep her around. For the first time in a while she felt worthy... but still the small feeling maintained its grip on the edge of her thoughts.
They made love, and Gilean put a hand to her stomach, sending his own strange magic into her and she felt it. "How..." she whispered. To have a child, already, after everything, she knew he had to have orchestrated things.
"Life will always find a way. Now we can look forward, and he will help us do that."
Something melted away from her, something that held her captive and circling the abyss. Suddenly, she was back on track, she was with the man she married, a man she loved, and they were going to have their family. "I assure you," Gilean said, "I am going to do anything and everything for my family." For the first time Sanria heard and understood that his statement included her.
Still, Sanria felt the loss of the first child Velentham took, and the loss of the second she had done in herself. Then she finally admitted it, the feeling she'd been holding as secret since the return of Colin's mind. "I don't think I can do this."
She was showered in love - held, kissed, reassured. It was the first time she'd felt, strangely enough, that Gilean wanted her and was ready to do anything to keep her around. For the first time in a while she felt worthy... but still the small feeling maintained its grip on the edge of her thoughts.
They made love, and Gilean put a hand to her stomach, sending his own strange magic into her and she felt it. "How..." she whispered. To have a child, already, after everything, she knew he had to have orchestrated things.
"Life will always find a way. Now we can look forward, and he will help us do that."
Something melted away from her, something that held her captive and circling the abyss. Suddenly, she was back on track, she was with the man she married, a man she loved, and they were going to have their family. "I assure you," Gilean said, "I am going to do anything and everything for my family." For the first time Sanria heard and understood that his statement included her.
Tiny Infants, Looming Saddness
Sanria and Gilean walked to the cavern. They could have used magic, but in truth, the walk was sorely needed. He had talked her into going to visit the babies at the cavern where Orn and Mirin had filled the void left behind by Leandra's exodus. They strolled through the woods, hand in hand, Sanria sneaking tiny glances over at the silvery-haired young man. Even with all the stresses that had been heaped upon him, he still looked young. She had noticed the same could no longer be said for her. She was entirely dependent upon Kaliadra for her life and it was clear that the elf had very slowly aged. It was reflected in Sanria's tiny little lines. Gilean assured her the magic woven by Velentham would fade and when it did, she'd once again be on track for a date with death in the future. A blessed relief that she'd welcome... but for now...
They arrived to be greeted by Colin with an infant in each arm. They were tiny, but beautiful, with a shock of purplish hair on their heads. As soon as Sanria and Gilean walked in, Sanria could feel the slow rise of tension. Colin had eyes only for her, and she knew the message he was trying to telepath - she'd seen it many times before. Seeing her was torture for him and each time they'd connect their eyes, she'd feel the undying devotion, the bittersweet longing for their life together that, now, they'd never have. She was shocked to feel the same sensation tugging at her chest. Colin seemed to reserve his smiles only for her, and stayed at her side, near enough that she could feel the warmth rolling from him.
If she could have, Sanria would have closed her eyes and drifted into the large arms. This had been their dream, to have him well so they could finally be together like they were so long ago, but it was cruel how life played the final card. As though he could sense it, Gilean came near, handing Regina back to Colin, with the announcement that they had to return to their own family. Matinus... Nioma... the cottage... yes. That was her home now... not this place, not this man. Sanria could not keep herself from looking back until the door had closed behind them.
That night she admitted her feelings to Gilean, who seemed to take them in like a dry pill. She did love him, she did choose him, she would try her best... all words she'd spoken before. She felt the bitter resentment rise in her and all she wanted was to go out to spit once more on the grave of Velentham. Instead, Gilean settled her, made love to her, and once he slept, she crept from the bed, down the stairs and to the mound outside. "I hate you," she whispered. "You ruined my life." And Sanria began digging to claw at the corpse with her bare hands.
They arrived to be greeted by Colin with an infant in each arm. They were tiny, but beautiful, with a shock of purplish hair on their heads. As soon as Sanria and Gilean walked in, Sanria could feel the slow rise of tension. Colin had eyes only for her, and she knew the message he was trying to telepath - she'd seen it many times before. Seeing her was torture for him and each time they'd connect their eyes, she'd feel the undying devotion, the bittersweet longing for their life together that, now, they'd never have. She was shocked to feel the same sensation tugging at her chest. Colin seemed to reserve his smiles only for her, and stayed at her side, near enough that she could feel the warmth rolling from him.
If she could have, Sanria would have closed her eyes and drifted into the large arms. This had been their dream, to have him well so they could finally be together like they were so long ago, but it was cruel how life played the final card. As though he could sense it, Gilean came near, handing Regina back to Colin, with the announcement that they had to return to their own family. Matinus... Nioma... the cottage... yes. That was her home now... not this place, not this man. Sanria could not keep herself from looking back until the door had closed behind them.
That night she admitted her feelings to Gilean, who seemed to take them in like a dry pill. She did love him, she did choose him, she would try her best... all words she'd spoken before. She felt the bitter resentment rise in her and all she wanted was to go out to spit once more on the grave of Velentham. Instead, Gilean settled her, made love to her, and once he slept, she crept from the bed, down the stairs and to the mound outside. "I hate you," she whispered. "You ruined my life." And Sanria began digging to claw at the corpse with her bare hands.
Losing Ground
She woke to the gold flecked eyes peering into her own with worry, dread,and stale panic. In slow motion, she watched the twitch of his lip give way to words, "Sanria... why did you do that?" She smiled through the exhaustion and took stock. She was, indeed, alive as she'd anticipated. Healed, near to full, as she'd figured. She now looked into the face of fear, of utter concern. He'd wanted to be there, to guide the little soul on its way back to the cosmos. She'd wanted to be alone, to punish it into the ground to fester and rot.
When Gilean told her he was going to move Velentham's body, some exotic tendril snapped in her mind, whipped free in the wind of anger and panic, and demanded to know where he'd be buried next. She didn't want to lose tabs. She knew it was only his carcass - his soul had flown home - but the putrid corpse below the soil was the one place she had to direct every drip of ire, every spear of hate, every tide of loathing. She'd scalded through the dirt to char his body with her churning emptiness. She forced him to give back to her what he'd taken, then realized that he was gone. Velentham was free, so free from all he'd done... but she owned his body. The thought of Gilean stealing it from her caused the panic and alarm to manifest as a sneer. Velentham was her property.
She wanted Gilean to take away any ability to have children, but his face so easily betrayed his feelings. He still wanted a child with her. Not right away, but sometime. 'Why?' Sanria thought. 'Why a child with me?' Her voice, however, did not ask. She felt herself wondering if it weren't simply a way to solidify his ties to her - to bind them together - to keep her from Colin. Her voice, however, did not speak. She gave a partial smile, a nod, and watched the gold-flecked eyes, face of concern, turn away to rest. He expected her to do the same, thinking the words, "It will all be alright," would be no less than 100 percent true.
When Gilean told her he was going to move Velentham's body, some exotic tendril snapped in her mind, whipped free in the wind of anger and panic, and demanded to know where he'd be buried next. She didn't want to lose tabs. She knew it was only his carcass - his soul had flown home - but the putrid corpse below the soil was the one place she had to direct every drip of ire, every spear of hate, every tide of loathing. She'd scalded through the dirt to char his body with her churning emptiness. She forced him to give back to her what he'd taken, then realized that he was gone. Velentham was free, so free from all he'd done... but she owned his body. The thought of Gilean stealing it from her caused the panic and alarm to manifest as a sneer. Velentham was her property.
She wanted Gilean to take away any ability to have children, but his face so easily betrayed his feelings. He still wanted a child with her. Not right away, but sometime. 'Why?' Sanria thought. 'Why a child with me?' Her voice, however, did not ask. She felt herself wondering if it weren't simply a way to solidify his ties to her - to bind them together - to keep her from Colin. Her voice, however, did not speak. She gave a partial smile, a nod, and watched the gold-flecked eyes, face of concern, turn away to rest. He expected her to do the same, thinking the words, "It will all be alright," would be no less than 100 percent true.
Path of Least Resistance
Sanria stepped back to Gilean's side, looking at Orn and Mirin and the new children held in their arms. She took Gilean's hand in her own and felt nothing by way of acknowledgement. She maintained her smile until they got home, and after obligatory congratulations to the brand new grandfather, the conversation drifted to the child held within Sanria.
Gilean was ready to give up his faith, his station at the temple, to help her get rid of Velentham's child. He'd give up everything he'd worked for, his joy in helping others, to be at her side. Rather than make Sanria feel loved, it made her feel guilt. Though she'd been trying not to, Sanria had been spiraling down. More times than she careed to admit, she stood behind the cottage, glaring at the grave of her rapist, dark madness crowding in at the edges of her vision. And of equal concern was her nearly burning desire to dig him up and stab him over and over and...
No. She waited until Gilean slept and went to the small kitchen. She pulled out her herbs and whispered druidic spells over them, increasing the potency of the chemicals in their dried leaves. Pennyroyal was toxic enough, she knew, but the spell that would keep her from dying was stronger. She flooded herself with the mixture, a dose large enough to kill a horse, and staggered outside to sit on the barren hill of Velenham's grave.
She would not let Gilean destroy his living for her or the abomination she carried with her. She'd rid herself of the child, she'd drop it right on the grave. She'd go near death again, dragging Kaliadra with her, she knew - but they'd not cross the threshold just yet. They'd be able to cheat it while the thing in her would go the way of its father.
Kaliadra came storming out the cottage door as the sweat began to form on Sanria's brow. Sanria's vision was starting to swim, the pains of her stomach were beginning to grow, and she vomited onto the grave.
"What in the name of the Nine Hells did you do, Sanria?!"
"Had to... we'll be okay..."
"You idiot," the elf hissed. "I could have helped you!"
"No. You wouldn't."
The elf went into silence as she dropped to her knees, clutching her own stomach as though the abortion was her own as well. Sanria stared back at the grave and gave another wretch. She could feel everything as it happened. The blood flowed, the vomit rolled, and Sanria finally pitched forward. Gilean would find her soon, free from any wrong, and could do what duty he was born to do: healing.
Gilean was ready to give up his faith, his station at the temple, to help her get rid of Velentham's child. He'd give up everything he'd worked for, his joy in helping others, to be at her side. Rather than make Sanria feel loved, it made her feel guilt. Though she'd been trying not to, Sanria had been spiraling down. More times than she careed to admit, she stood behind the cottage, glaring at the grave of her rapist, dark madness crowding in at the edges of her vision. And of equal concern was her nearly burning desire to dig him up and stab him over and over and...
No. She waited until Gilean slept and went to the small kitchen. She pulled out her herbs and whispered druidic spells over them, increasing the potency of the chemicals in their dried leaves. Pennyroyal was toxic enough, she knew, but the spell that would keep her from dying was stronger. She flooded herself with the mixture, a dose large enough to kill a horse, and staggered outside to sit on the barren hill of Velenham's grave.
She would not let Gilean destroy his living for her or the abomination she carried with her. She'd rid herself of the child, she'd drop it right on the grave. She'd go near death again, dragging Kaliadra with her, she knew - but they'd not cross the threshold just yet. They'd be able to cheat it while the thing in her would go the way of its father.
Kaliadra came storming out the cottage door as the sweat began to form on Sanria's brow. Sanria's vision was starting to swim, the pains of her stomach were beginning to grow, and she vomited onto the grave.
"What in the name of the Nine Hells did you do, Sanria?!"
"Had to... we'll be okay..."
"You idiot," the elf hissed. "I could have helped you!"
"No. You wouldn't."
The elf went into silence as she dropped to her knees, clutching her own stomach as though the abortion was her own as well. Sanria stared back at the grave and gave another wretch. She could feel everything as it happened. The blood flowed, the vomit rolled, and Sanria finally pitched forward. Gilean would find her soon, free from any wrong, and could do what duty he was born to do: healing.
Current Character Description - Mirin Stone
Mirin is a beautiful woman with short, wispy silver hair that stands out at all angles. Her skin is a very light, opalescent lilac that seems to swirl in the light. Her eyes are a light purple, flecked with gold that seem to spark with an energetic mystery. She appears to constantly have a smile on her face, though she rarely bothers with words. She is an incredibly magical being, a mother and a wife to Orn Stone.
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