Happy. I'm fucking happy. I've got Damaris. And my damn ENCHANTED FLASK! HA! Weir in my life. Reichenbach, Camdis. Hell, all of the merry fellows I saw there at the party. Something told me that I would take pleasure in learning all of their names. My tail swishes back and forth, trying to balance me as I stumble away from the heart of the Court, to the outskirts as I make my way toward the wilderness. Damaris tags along beside me, for once not reprimanding me for my merriness, my silliness. Instead she seems to be as cheerful as I am, happy. Fucking happy.
I glance up at the stars and give thanks to this goddess Caligo, one that I barely know but that seems so wonderful. I wonder if I don't see the stars sparkle back at me, cheering me on. I take another sip from the flask, enjoying the dry taste of the wine trickling down my throat. Sure it's no vodka, but if this is what the Gods give me then so be it. It's better than nothing! As I'm sipping, my balance is thrown off by the tipping of my head back, and I tumble, falling to the ground with a heavy THUD.
I hear Damaris snicker as wine splashes my maw, and I resume my drinking, slowly settling back into the long grass. The sounds of merriment from the party are just a hint on the wind. Somehow I've traveled farther than a drunk should be able to. Finally I let the flask fall to my side, and I lay my head down on the ground. Damaris approaches and curls up a few feet away from me, avoiding the stink of wine on my breath. She whispers a goodnight through her mind. My lids close, and soon I'm snoring -- alcohol tends to induce that.
glitter and gold is the man in the chair
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
The air only grew colder as they left the desert, ghosts in the night, slipping across sand and over the mountains like wraiths. Had Lorca been in the mood to protest his new Sovereign, he would have hissed Stealing from The Night Court at night? Are you fucking stupid? And he would have been correct to protest the timing - anyone that had some sense in their head (and he had plenty) would know that the time to steal from Denocte would be during the Day. The Night Court, for all he had seen of it, was a lively place filled with those that partied all night long - and those that weren't partying were thieving, conniving, sticking knives into guts with savage grins.
If it ever became known that Day Court had anything to do with this attack... there would be retribution.
But let Maxence deal with the fury of The Night Court, let Maxence deal with that horrifying band of Crows that had risen to power, Lorca had a job to do. Avdotya moved with skill beside him, graceful and terrifying with all of her strength and speed. Yet he had been trained as Davke, too. It was often forgotten behind the coy beauty and slick lines of his razor boned face - and that was how he liked it. Let them think he was no threat, let them think he was simply vain and arrogant, a pretty face that let words slip from one ear to the other.
Velorca shared a glance with Avdotya as they drew close to the keep, the sounds of revelry masking their approach.
"There. That one is Rostislav."
The words were a mere murmur, sensual and intimate, but certain. His golden gaze drifted to the hound curled up beside the vast, muscular drunkard. He glanced back to Avdotya, producing a small vial with a cold smile.
"Gila venom. This amount will put it down, but you'll need to silence it... the pain can be quite excruciating."
His expression didn't change as he spoke, that cool, apathetic attitude toward the hound and her master quite chilling. He jerked his head at the sleeping drunk;
"Stick him with some too, just in case he wakes up."
The pair had been traveling under the cover of darkness for hours now, the last stones of Solterra long behind their ragged hooves. In spite of the distance, Avdotya felt a pang of predatory excitement rattle through her bones; the thrill of a hunt was a taste long absent from her tongue and it had her mouth watering like a starved hound thrown a piece of meat. She craved this sort of conflict and the fact that their target was a defector of Solis' nation only fed her flame.
As the pair drew deeper into Denocte, the faint sound of gaiety caressed her sensitive ears, producing a thin smile upon her lips. How fortunate that they found themselves slipping in on a night of frivolity and assured intoxication. It was as if the doors had been left wide open for the two to invite themselves in - and invite themselves they did.
With Velorca at her side, the desert viper purred with anticipation. It was not long before the silver stallion noted their quarry just ahead, passed out in the tall grass with wine in his belly and ignorant bliss flooding his mind. Her molten eyes studied him, watching every drunken breath until her sights drifted to the large canine curled peacefully at his side; if they were to encounter any issues, that would surely be the cause. Avdotya looked to her companion just in time to see him reveal the small vial of venom from his person, those velvety words of his detailing its particularly nasty workings. It was a morbid choice, but coming from Velorca, she was not surprised.
Her thoughts lingering for only a moment more, Avdotya slowly reached down to gasp the shaft of her spear and steadied the blade for her cohort to lace with venom. Once done, her focus was upon the hound. Her intentions were not to fatally injure, all she needed was a clean slice to allow the toxin to work its way into the bloodstream and their biggest concern was put to rest with barely a lift of a hoof... save for the matter of shutting it up.
But a quiet idea floated around her mind, one Velorca need not know of it until the time came.
Then, in a heartbeat, Avdotya loosed her spear from their position in one powerful throw. Her aim was near perfection, the sharpened edge of the arrow sure to find its mark as it glided past the canine's shoulder. Had it succeeded, she would not hesitate to nimbly reach her teeth for one of the pretty golden chains Velorca dressed himself with, pulling it free from where it hung. Whatever snide comment he was sure to have for her would have to wait until the dust settled, for she was already surging forward to silence the drunkard's bonded. Paralysis would set in quickly, allowing her to utilize her telekinesis to fasten the chain around its snout to keep it shut tight; it was effective enough to thwart any screams, but it would be the venom that eventually chased it from consciousness.
Her sides heaving, the woman scooped up her weapon and turned to Rostislav. Intoxicated as he was, she assumed him able enough to have some capability of realization. "Solis sends his regards." She cooed to him with a wolfish smile, spear at the ready.
I didn't hear them coming. I didn't smell the scent of Avdotya whom I'd met at least once. I didn't smell the sadistic stallion that traveled beside her. I'm fucking drunk, it's to be expected that the sky could crash down around me and I probably wouldn't wake even then. A loud snore emits from my lips as they converse, easily drowning out any noise that might reach my ears. Even Damaris was fairly sound asleep, dreaming of the future, her future with Rostislav.
But a hound's hearing is much better than a drunk ogre. Her ears twitch as they approach, registering the noise as part of the background rejoicing, something to be processed out. When they discuss their plans of abduction, however, a threat looms dark and dominating in her dreams. Damaris whines, shifting restlessly, not aware yet that her dreams are trying to TELL her something. To warn her of....
The glance of a spear wakes her. Her eyes snap open, pupils immediately adjusting to the darkness. The dark snout lifts, nostrils immediately catching the scent of something unfamiliar. She trains her gaze on the strangers, a low, fierce growl passes between them as she bares her fangs. Sickly green acid drips down them. But just as she prepares to alert me, to wake me from my stupor, she feels her body begin to stiffen. Her limbs sluggish in movement, something metallic glints and clinks in the darkness. A muzzle. It slips on easily, and another threatening growl slips out.
She continues to stiffen, and in a moment she's lying back down. Her joints ache like an old woman's before a storm. She whines again. Rostislav! Wake up, you have to run! Danger! ROSTISLAV! She pleads through their bind as her lids grow heavy, slowly drooping. Another moment, and she has passed out.
The tether between us twangs as she shouts my name, and I shift slightly. She says it again, even more urgently, and my mind begins to rearrange the fumbled puzzle it's fallen into. My lids slowly open, silver eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness. Groggy as hell, still drunk. As I begin to come to, it hits me that the tether between Damaris and I has gone silent. Deadly silent. Then a voice croons over me - "Solis sends his regards." I flinch and glance up to see a somewhat familiar face. My heart nearly stops, then thrashes in my chest as the danger we are in hits home. Damaris! Dama-- My head slightly lifted, I can see she is still in the grass, breathing lightly with a golden muzzle around her beautiful, dangerous jaws.
My insides begin ripping apart, needing no assistance from weapons to destroy. I can hear my blood pounding in my head, and I snarl up at Avdotya. "You bitch!" I hiss through clenched teeth. "I promise you will pay for this. Not for me-" I glance at my companion. "For her!" I spit, eyes glinting with the steel of resolve. I have no doubt I'm at their mercy, but the promise I give is one I fully intend to keep. NO ONE hurts Damaris and goes unpunished.
glitter and gold is the man in the chair
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
He watched with a cold detachment as Avdotya pierced the dogs skin with her spear, an admirable throw, though it was a skill he was well aware she possessed. He didn't protest as she grabbed one of his chains, though he curled his lip slightly, the only show of irritation he would give when it came to the warrior woman - blood of his blood, Davke, not Day Court.
The dog barely struggled, though Lorca's keen eyes slid to Rostislav as he began to shift upon the ground, the silent screaming of his pet waking him, no doubt. Solis sends his regards. Solis, not Maxence. He would have provided a dangerous smile at the words had the big brute not awoken and started barking at them. Lorca looked to Avdotya lazily, ignoring the threats spilling from their victims mouth.
"Stick him with it so he shuts up. It would be best if all of Denocte didn't know we were here."
Staring at Rostislav with distaste, Velorca suddenly wondered what the Warden had done to provoke Maxence. He had defected only after Maxence had risen to power, probably a good move, considering. Certainly Maxence couldn't think that returning a refugee was a good start to his rule - or starting a war with one of their most well known, powerful adversaries. Fucking idiot.
Still, Lorca was in no mood to complain (what?), at least not with Avdotya around to hear him. Perhaps a war would be a good way to eradicate foreign rulers once and for all - he glanced at the warrior woman in subtle admiration - she'd done it before, why not again?
