Andras Demyan
"All you want to do is dance out of your skin into another song not quite about heroes, but still a song where you can lift your spear and say 'yes' as it flashes."
"All you want to do is dance out of your skin into another song not quite about heroes, but still a song where you can lift your spear and say 'yes' as it flashes."
Andras is in the library, as he always is, both when the call goes out and when the king and his emissary sweep through the foyer in a flurry of crackling parchment and clattering hooves. There are dark things in Delumine, things making prey of their predators. Old Viride out the window is humming with some nameless rage that matches his own and Andras knows now possibly more than he has ever known that it is alive, and it is vengeful.
He would smile if it weren't so very, very grim.
Andras follows Emersyn soundlessly, tucking himself into a corner of her meeting room where he can glower over her shoulder at the stack of parchment she carries, nothing but the sway of the lamplight reflected in his glasses to remind the gathering crowd that he is there at all. On the other side of the desk citizens are filing through the narrow doorway and taking their places. The hum of their voices is loud and grating and Andras has to watch with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth to keep his singing blood at bay.
Emersyn says, there are poachers in Viride. Emersyn says things like "reasonable suspicion" and "no pattern" and Andras can't help but wonder, why? Old Viride is snarling outside and Andras is snarling inside and though his blood is saying yes, yes, yes! as it does, he is thinking no.
Even as she is speaking Andras leans forward, plucking one series of notes from the stack beside her, folding his wings across his chest in thoughtful silence.
(It reads:
UNKNOWN SPECIES, POSSIBLY DEER - SMALLER THAN ANY DEER I'VE SEEN
COAT IS A DEEP RED WITH BLACK STRIPES ON HINDQUARTERS
ANTLERS LEFT AT SCENE. HEAD REMOVED.
ORGANS WERE EITHER TAKEN OR EATEN BE SCAVENGERS)
His stomach turns. He grits his teeth.
Andras' blood sings with the voice of hatred and vengeance. It sings some black, black song about justice. It sings about men on the hunt and louder than ever it says yes, yes, YES. Andras is so lost in his singing blood and his humming heart, first shuffling through parchment on his own and then watching as Emersyn sets them out before the huddled Court that he almost doesn't hear her say Warden until a hush has fallen over the room and the searching faces of the crowd have shifted toward Ipomoea, expectant.
He moves forward as if it is automatic, as if his whole life he has been waiting for someone to step out of his way. He does not acknowledge the crowd. Andras clears his throat, unfolds his wings and, without looking up, starts to speak.
"A murder and a poacher... well, patrols are the first step. Emersyn seems to have been diligent in recording information, but this is an upsetting amount of ground to cover. She'll need help."
Andras leans further forward, studying the map carefully, taking a moment to stare at each mark in turn, frown deepening by the second. "Unless they can fly, there are only so many places a person can cross the Rapax, so we should keep an eye there. Unfortunately, it must be easy to get in and out of Viride unseen, without heavy security. The snow might help track them, but there won't be much of it."
He turns to the king. "Maybe we should enlist some help. Trustworthy help--whatever that means to you. Also I'd like to see this... crime scene."
He would smile if it weren't so very, very grim.
Andras follows Emersyn soundlessly, tucking himself into a corner of her meeting room where he can glower over her shoulder at the stack of parchment she carries, nothing but the sway of the lamplight reflected in his glasses to remind the gathering crowd that he is there at all. On the other side of the desk citizens are filing through the narrow doorway and taking their places. The hum of their voices is loud and grating and Andras has to watch with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth to keep his singing blood at bay.
Emersyn says, there are poachers in Viride. Emersyn says things like "reasonable suspicion" and "no pattern" and Andras can't help but wonder, why? Old Viride is snarling outside and Andras is snarling inside and though his blood is saying yes, yes, yes! as it does, he is thinking no.
Even as she is speaking Andras leans forward, plucking one series of notes from the stack beside her, folding his wings across his chest in thoughtful silence.
(It reads:
UNKNOWN SPECIES, POSSIBLY DEER - SMALLER THAN ANY DEER I'VE SEEN
COAT IS A DEEP RED WITH BLACK STRIPES ON HINDQUARTERS
ANTLERS LEFT AT SCENE. HEAD REMOVED.
ORGANS WERE EITHER TAKEN OR EATEN BE SCAVENGERS)
His stomach turns. He grits his teeth.
Andras' blood sings with the voice of hatred and vengeance. It sings some black, black song about justice. It sings about men on the hunt and louder than ever it says yes, yes, YES. Andras is so lost in his singing blood and his humming heart, first shuffling through parchment on his own and then watching as Emersyn sets them out before the huddled Court that he almost doesn't hear her say Warden until a hush has fallen over the room and the searching faces of the crowd have shifted toward Ipomoea, expectant.
He moves forward as if it is automatic, as if his whole life he has been waiting for someone to step out of his way. He does not acknowledge the crowd. Andras clears his throat, unfolds his wings and, without looking up, starts to speak.
"A murder and a poacher... well, patrols are the first step. Emersyn seems to have been diligent in recording information, but this is an upsetting amount of ground to cover. She'll need help."
Andras leans further forward, studying the map carefully, taking a moment to stare at each mark in turn, frown deepening by the second. "Unless they can fly, there are only so many places a person can cross the Rapax, so we should keep an eye there. Unfortunately, it must be easy to get in and out of Viride unseen, without heavy security. The snow might help track them, but there won't be much of it."
He turns to the king. "Maybe we should enlist some help. Trustworthy help--whatever that means to you. Also I'd like to see this... crime scene."
@
they made you into a weapon
and told you to find peace.
