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Please boost!!! This is an In CHARCTER Magazine for world of warcraft!!

Sophisticated Fall 2015

Sophisticated hits the stand with style. With the premier of a new location just having broken through to the news, the Diva and her staff have cooked up something to add a bit of splash to fall trends that is sure to entice. With a look in mind, things are sharper, cleaner, and more cutting edge. This issue delivers Fall to your door.

You can also visit Sophisticated’s new tumblr site here.

Please Boost!!

External Link Here.

[anashaes-blog]

This blog is going defunct!

I’ve condensed my blogs to one account. You can find Anashae’s blog >>>

ANASHAE.TUMBLR.COM   If you’re not on it, please re-add it. Otherwise, feel free to hit me up aeviaras as well.

I revamped the new blog a bit, I’m still gathering my botany page, weapons cache, etc. But there is a link specifically for the Gorgrond Project which was a really neat story.

I hope to see you all there.

[anashaes-blog]

NSFW: Nightfall Series

This series may contain blood, violence, graphic description, gore, and a game of rock-paper-scissors. Trigger warnings apply.

Nightfall Part 1

Nightfall Part 2

Nightfall Part 3

Nightfall Part 4

The links above are for the Nightfall Series which is the capture and Rescue of Anashae Dawnbringer

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[anashaes-blog]

Aeviara has a dream about joining the Templar in battle.

Music to read by for this piece.

The dreams had come to her since she had been a young child and now, now with her own eyes did Aeviara witness the dream within reality’s grasp. They had been set against an insurmountable foe through the twisting of fate it seemed and destruction was surely about to break the bonds of brotherhood and men in an encounter that was most assuredly meant to be the death of them.

Iron orcs, in wave after wave, rushed in with the battlelust of those who had nothing left to lose. The Templars drew blade and formed ranks. At first, the sheer numbers had to be railed against as shields locked and the motion was put into play. A thrust against the wall of shields came, followed by a second push and then swords arcing to thrust through the gap they made. Bodies fell at their feet but the onslaught was greater than they had imagined, greater than perhaps they were prepared for. They thinned the herd only to find the gap filled by another orc. It looked hopeless. It looked as though the effort to defend was to be one that ended in defeat, but this would not be. It could not be.

The tension filled the air as the order worked with one another hand in hand, though they were tiring. The High Templar ordered them to fall back, forcing those who still advanced to do so on the blood slicked corpses of their fallen brethren. Battered shields were lowered and fire licked the surface of blades as the Sunrunners now prepared to face off the remainder, with the power and prowess of Templars.

Aeviara had been brought here to heal them in battle, to see to their needs and yet she realized that the utilization of her skill was useless in this moment. Or at least useless in part. Determination weighed upon her and then something within her changed. She was charged with the protection and preservation of these men and women. She was entrusted with seeing them through, of being there for them in this hour as they had been in the past months for her during trying times. That wrenched look of defeat dissipated from her face and was replaced with a look of ferocity that perhaps none of them had ever seen, that perhaps none of them would ever see fully.

That aged book rose in front of her with a word and the pages turned seemingly of their own accord. Aeviara’s lips moved and prayer beads which were wrapped about her arm began to take on the glow of light as it encased them. Arms extended to each side and as she began to focus solely on the preservation of these, wind billowed up to blow her hair wildly as light began to pour through her. It pooled in her hands but engulfed the whole of who she was and not once did she look away as sword clashed against sword, as men cried out, as the rigors of battle and atrocities of war waged around her. Aeviara Starsong would not lose them in this moment, not in this hour. And even though she had sworn an oath to one of them regarding light, the manner in which to protect and gird them was already clear.

A hook blade attached to the arm of an orc pierced Arandael’s armor at the shoulder and as the enemy sought to end his life, the call of light pierced through him. For Arandael, it renewed his spirit, his strength and coursed through every fiber of his being. Even after the blade withdrew, the edges of that wound were cleansed with the impartation of light which flickered across his armor now like fire. The pain had been pulled away as if by some unseen hand. There was no true explanation.

She was not aware that in the midst of the battle her voice arose fully and echoed out among them, though in her mind it was accompanied by her forebearers who had walked this path before her. Aeviara drew from the forces of light about them, used as a conduit through which it flowed now. She viewed everything as though it moved in slow motion, hands twisting to manipulate the thrust of that gift as her spirit soared.

Two orcs drew blade against the one she had sworn an oath to. And in that exact moment a choice had to be made. She chose the impartation of her gift but not as feared. One of them parried him to knock the Knight off kilter and the other orc raised his blade for what might have been a killing blow, only to find a blazing ball of light erupt inside of his gaping mouth and expand. Grey matter and the inside of the orc’s skull showered down over those in his vicinity and she did not flinch, for she had upheld her part of the bargain. He ran the other through and then wiped his blade on the corpse before lunging forth to fend off a series of blows from another who advanced.

The earth beneath her feet rumbled and yet she did not relent. The wind howled around them and yet she remained firmly planted there with little but raw determination and a measure of faith that could not be denied. And as unholy magic was unleashed upon her, there came a shield which not only absorbed it but ripped outward upon the ground as if it were a rushing blaze of white light imbued fire in all directions for as far as the eye could see.

Words of fortitude, hymns of light, and incantations of faith spilled from her lips as a hand came to hold that book up high whilst that blinding flash erupted. These things worked in tandem with those before her, girding them in the midst of battle, minimizing a blow at times, enabling the clarity of mind to prevail when fatigue would strip away their focus. There was a unity there which ebbed and flowed in the course of things. The templars in the throes of battle would not even notice, save the fact that in the final push, as their blades met true and renewed vigor sprang up within the depths of their beings, the shadows of their forms lay in elongated blurs across the expanse of enemies who were rushing to certain death.

When it was all said and done, the priestess was on her knees with book clutched against chest, bearing the weight of things that she would never share with them. They had prevailed. She had prevailed. And in that encounter, she had stepped into a destiny which she was made for.

Aeviara woke some time later, the realization that this wasn’t an ordinary dream springing up an odd sense of peace within her soul. In times past, she hadn’t recognized the faces or had names to put to the dream, but now clarity rested upon her.

[anashaes-blog]

"What do you feel makes a true man? What do you feel makes a true gentleman? What difference is there?"

“The makings of a true man lie in the strength of his heart.” Eliot said simply. As the Blood Knight looked somewhat quizzically at him, the the Silvercrest lord realized that he would have to elaborate. “A true man is a man who is true to himself, regardless of what other people say or think of him.” Eliot smiled, seeing now that she was beginning to understand. “This has much to do, I think, with what makes a true man a gentleman as well… People associate being a gentleman with chivalry, you see… And beyond our role in combat, the code of the knight is to protect and promote honor and virtue whenever we find it. It goes beyond opening doors for pretty young ladies, observing proper etiquette, or dressing ones self up in finery. It is a lifelong commitment to upholding what is right.” Eliot inclined his head slightly as he finished speaking. “Tell me, Lady Blood Knight. What are your thoughts on the matter? Not as a Blood Knight, but as a woman.”

[anashaes-blog]

Send me 呆 for my muse to do an impression of yours.

It was something that nagged at her; something that had bothered her ever since Lord Bladerunner had pulled her into this world of nobles and status and money.  Sure, she was doing what she loved to do, and there was no way that she would give that up.  But how did one without noble blood go about acting respectable enough for other nobles not to look down upon her without seeming pretentious?  She had asked Lord Bladerunner this question, and he had told her that it was precisely those times when naysayers spoke up that she needed to act the part of a noblewoman.But that was just the thing… how was a noble really supposed to act?  She didn’t have years of study or immersion under her belt.  Up until recently, her thoughts on the elite had been that they were mostly snobby and entitled.  She had no doubt that Lady Devonshire could show her how to act, but her thoughts strayed for some reason to Lady Starsong.  The way that she managed to connect with people while still carrying herself with poise and grace, the way that she seemed to make friends with everyone… her innocent demeanor.  If she ever were to be a noblewoman, she imagined she would want to be like that.Though they had not shared quite as many interactions as she might have liked, Naivaria could pick out certain mannerisms that reminded her of the other woman.  She looked at herself in the mirror, dressed in nothing but a thin robe, and tried her best to remember.  Almost automatically her spine straightened and her chin rose just a fraction–not with pride, no, but to aid good posture.Then the most wonderful thought occurred to her.  She would spend her entire day pretending that she was Lady Starsong.  Oh, not answering to her name, of course, but acting like her, speaking like her… she moved to her wardrobe, pulling out a dress that was just a tad less simple than the ones she usually wore.  Dressing like her.  Things that she did not know she imagined simply by putting together the pieces she did know.As she stepped from her quarters she happened upon Elnias coming down the hall and beamed a bright smile at him.  “Good morning to you, Elnias,” she said softly and somewhat cheerily, stopping to follow up with, “I do apologize if you heard the ruckus last night; one of the pups found his way into my quarters and was simply not intent upon finding his way out again.”  The man blinked at her before uttering a surprised greeting in return; Naivaria was usually something akin to a shuffling zombie in the morning, and her typical morning greeting was a bit more of a mutter.  “Good morning, Miss Naivaria.  They can be feisty little devils sometimes.  Did he leave anything in disrepair?”“Oh, no; not unless you count the cleanliness of my face.  He was just excited, I think–as it turns out, those pups can drool quite a bit.”  Her smile was innocent, though she was lying–she was not going to tell Elnias that the pup had chewed through the ribbons on that gold box that had held the lingerie she had thought to leave there.  “Though I did do a quick search of the studio to make sure no pups had found their way there, and made certain that the door was securely closed before heading back to bed.  Lady Devonshire might have been a touch angry if they had ruined anything downstairs.””Ah, excellent.  Please do call upon me if you discover anything they might have gotten into.”  Elnias looked as if he had been headed somewhere when they had stopped, so she simply smiled and gave him a polite nod.“I shall.  Have a wonderful morning!” As the two continued on in opposite directions Naivaria frowned at the thought of breakfast.  Proper table manners would be something else that she would have to learn.  Had she even started her noble day yet?

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Sleep refused to come to her. Jastee lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling while laying in her lover’s arms. No noise aside from his steady breathing. All she could do was stare as she was lost in her thoughts, thinking back on Lady Devonshire’s words. Anashae had been missing? How foolish had...

[anashaes-blog]

Anashae’s tormentor was an odd one. She had known this from the moment his name had been uttered, having actually had interactions with him at times throughout the years. It was funny that the upstanding Lord who people admired was just a mask that he wore. That who he was in private was so very different than the image which he projected. Her mind was kept in a haze and the treatments began again with each new day. He hoped to break her spirit, he hoped to break her mind.

And night after night she lay broken in body as the light-bender nursed her wounds and brought her back from the blessed relief that would be death. He was a demon in her mind, someone who refused to let her go, though the truth of it was that he had been broken and now performed these acts out of fear. Those acts might not be enough to save him if she somehow regained herself. Maybe he realized this though, for he was always timely with the next injection and though she begged for relief, for release from his administrations, she was denied.

At first she figured that her captor merely enjoyed the breaking, that it was his particular fetish and really it was. He could have left her mutilated and broken, even putting her in the ground if he had wished. His true desires were made clear the night that he began to whisper into her ear about how she would be his pet when it was all said and done. And that she would give him her all. Her mind railed against it.

How long had she been here? And how much of what was said to her was really true? Twisted versions of reality had been fed to her but she clung to what she knew, at least until he’d declared them all dead. In that very moment, grief nearly overtook her but training demanded she show nothing, that she endure this somehow. Surely by now, those closest to her, those who had not turned their backs, knew that something was amiss.

Nightfall (Part 1): NSFW

(( The following may contain violence/violent themes, blood and gore, and foul language. Viewer discretion is advised below the read more link. ))

Night had fallen.

It was a routine patrol, and so far had been uneventful. The sort he had been hired on for a dozen or more times before. Serthain was a mercenary, but didn’t quite have the steel to kill for a cause that was not true to his heart. He loved gold, but not that much. It was because of this that he eked out his living working as a sentry or guard dog for the types of people who weren’t prolific enough for legitimate protective services, and due to their particular… enterprises… probably didn’t want to be anyway.

Keep reading

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Hot Damn Prompt@Everyone

The Lady was reading one of those frippery little magazines and motioned for Elnias to come closer. “They do this ‘hot damn’ rating thing with people, it doesn’t serve much purpose but it is terribly entertaining. Do you think that people are utilizing it for… hooking it up?”

Elnias chuckled and gave a wry smile, “Hooking up, my Lady. And yes, it is a possibility. Are you interested in it?” 

The grand dame looked at the fellow for a long moment with a slight expression of shock. “Interested in hooking up, Elnias? At my age if I see someone I desire to show the wonders of the world, I handle myself quite well. Age does have benefits, dear boy, and I do not have to lean upon acting prudish or virginal. After three husbands, I daresay I lost those things long ago.” 

Elnias laughed softly and shook his head, “I meant the survey, my Lady.” 

Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ and brows rose, “I suppose it could be fun. Unless they refer to me as a wrinkled old bag of prunes, in which case… well, let us just say that a well placed pleat here and there can put ten to fifteen pounds on people in the most unsavory places.” 

The man laughed louder this time and just shook his head, “You can be as evil as you are deliciously wonderful, you know.” 

She patted his hand softly, “So you tell me but I am not convinced. Go on then, let us see what comes of it.”

[anashaes-blog]

Aww yeah!!

What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you? What words do you like to hear during sex? Who are five people you find attractive?

Sexiest thing:  full body erotic message. Playing with his ears. Always a huge turn-on for Sin’dorei.

Words during sex: every dirty word for intercourse ever. His name being called out is still the sexiest thing to him. He focuses on his partner’s pleasure in bed, so it’s a huge thing for his own enjoyment.

5 attractive people: he looks but doesn’t touch these days, but he’s not blind either.  Here they are.

1) Ylanna.  This is a no-brainer, since he married the woman.

2) Ylenne. No, he’s never been drawn to her, but since she’s his wife’s identical twin it’s hard not to notice her beauty.  Plus, she shares some of his same interests in doing highly dangerous. If Eltheas had a twin of his own, he’d be after Ylenne in a New York minute. He’d love to set her up with a certain Magister friend of his, but she has the WORST taste in men.

3)  Riana Dawnstar.  The very first woman Eltheas fell madly in love with, a fellow Ranger while he was still part of the Farstriders.  Unfortunately for him, she had no true feelings for him, and had a history of leaving a trail of broken hearts behind her.  The relationship ended badly, and it took a couple of years for him to recover from the blow.

4) Anashae.  Eltheas has always had a thing for strong women, and Anashae is definitely that.  If he’d not already been involved with Ylanna, if Anashae hadn’t been his commanding officer, and if she hadn’t already (maybe) been involved with someone else, he definitely would have pursued her. It’s just as well that none of the stars aligned, as he’s definitely not her type.

5) Reliquary Jes'ca Darksun.  He flirted with her outrageously when he encountered her in Deepholm during the Cataclysm, but it never went any further than that.

[anashaes-blog]

These journals will not ever be deciphered for the script they are written in is a language which is both warded and unknown to many. In the older days, we used varying dialects of a language which supposedly hailed back to the titans. Among the order, we developed our own. There is no key for…

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The Chalice of An’methia

Some time ago, the chains were returned to the chalice. I sincerely doubt that anyone noticed the replications or realized the ramifications of this act. Why it is that they were separated in the first place is a decision which I still question, and so I acted. Terenus and Petrias are the only ones who realize this and a heated discussion did take place after I had secured them. It is a mistake which will not occur again. I have seen to that. As per those who were linked through bond with the chains? Undoubtedly, it will influence them if they sought to remember but most likely they will not.

Certain memories of things beheld within the veil are left as blurred images in the corner of one’s mind that can’t quite be retrieved. With the reunion of chain to chalice, any lingering bonds are now gone and recollections with them.

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April 22

I can’t sleep.  I’ve been cooped up in here for far too long with this dress.  While the busywork keeps me occupied, and my mind is set upon this piece (which is about three quarters done; once I fit her I will go ahead and make adjustments and then finish the details), I find it wandering to the other night. Lord Bladerunner had said he has a friend who would like to see my business succeed.  I had assumed he meant Lady Starsong, but… thinking back on it, he did say “he,” and not “she.”  I did not ask him this friend’s identity, but now I am curious. After tonight I will only have one dose of the pain tincture left.  It could not have come at a better time.

[anashaes-blog]

The woman turned to bend with plain needle and thread once again, fingers which had done this type of thing a million times once more toiling on the fine handiwork associated with bead-work. These were the finishing touches of a gown which would be worn to the...

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When Shadows Fall

The following story is NSFW: Graphic Violence/Torture (Not gore).

Drip, drip, drip.

The battered form lay pressed against the stone unmoving, unfeeling by now, oblivious because quite simply her body had succumbed to the pain which had been inflicted upon it. Raven tresses caked in blood and sweat clung to her forehead, bruising covered nearly every inch of her tall frame and in that moment there was little resemblance to who she really was, who she had been.

When the recall into service had taken place, when she had sent letters and made a hasty departure in the dead of night, the woman had known it could come to this. This was not a normal job by any stretch of the imagination, it was not a retrieval, it was not something that could be attended to or monitored by her team, nor was it something that she could have played any other way.

It had taken time to establish a rapport with the mark, painstaking attention to detail, and nothing in the way of distraction. Sliding back into the aspect of deep cover was like slipping back into a second skin and though she was loathed to leave those she cared for, it was for their future that she had acted. There had been no other choice, no other way.

Quite simply, a contact within the governmental structure of Silvermoon who had been reliable in the past had been made aware of the fact that two things had occurred, that a man entrusted with the safe passage of intelligence had been compromised, and that her name had been raised on a list of people who were potential targets. And with this man in particular? He was of the ilk who would not only go after her, but after everyone associated with her and so the choice was clear.

It was of such a nature that not even Terenus or Darvyn had been made fully aware for surely if they had, she would not have gone alone. They would not have permitted it, not after six hundred years of serving together. There wasn’t a chance in hell.

Crack.

A jolt of pain brought her back from the blissful hold of unconsciousness and bleary eyes tried to focus against the sudden presence of a bright light. Blood was caked upon lips which were swollen and marred by bruises that encompassed the majority of her body by now. The strength to move her head seemed an impossibility and then there was that age old struggle as the pierce of needle was felt once again with the burning sensation that despite her best efforts ripped a blood curdling scream from her mouth. It was surreal by now, as though she were observing acts inflicted upon another and by all that was holy, the methods were nearly as impeccable as her own.

The drug curbed the mental facilities to an extent and despite the fact that she held high resistances to many different things, the sheer amount they’d pressed into her had at last done its job and with the steady course of beatings, torture, and interrogation, focusing enough to slip into the veil was an impossibility. Not that she could have at any rate, for the silver shackles about her wrists and ankles were of a composite which bore very specific enchantments that guarded against such.

“We’re going to begin again, Dawnbringer.”

And with that phrase, body trembled even though she reached desperately for the will and determination to simply make it through one moment at a time. The mind focused on her reasons, her adopted children, her love, her lifelong friends, her men. And given the gravity of the situation, it was likely they would never know that in this hour as Anashae Dawnbringer stood in defense of them, that they were what gave her the strength to not bend and break beneath the twist of exquisite pain that was plied upon her flesh yet again.

A deep rumbling laughter filled the air as the man threw back his head. He had returned from the city the night prior with news of two others eliminated, people he had long since suspected as keeping tabs on him, one of whom was the individual who had dispatched her in the first place. And now, he had lain aside his fine silk shirt as his soft hand reached for the bullwhip which had taunted her throughout the night.

Thoughts were staggering, a mixed jumble of scenes pouring through her mind even as another crack resounded and this time the bite of the whip dug itself into a spot beneath her shoulder blade and yet another welt arose on the canvas of mottled porcelain. She had resisted it all with the bearing of stoicism, had not given in to the pain, had let it fuel her resolve until they had begun to inject her with the serum which spun things in an entirely different scenario. Hell, she had relished it and used it. It was all within the scope of her particular skill set.

And now? Now she had little in the way of control over her facilities as yet another scream bit into the air and ragged breath burned as she drew it into her lungs. She cursed the name of the one who had, in an effort to save his own skin, turned the spotlight upon her and blown her cover. He was nothing more than a rotting corpse which dangled from a chain to her right, a reminder of the end that played into the psychological game which was now being wrought. An unspoken promise of that which was about to become her reality.

The whispers and phrases which had invaded her mind were jumbled. Voices of the past, present, and voices she had not remembered until now. Had the realization been there that the man in question was but a puppet for this one? She would not have come alone. It was a mistake and by now, it seemed, the price was going to be her life.

Eyelids fluttered as those emerald hues rolled back in her head and a sputter of blood was coughed up as quaking body bent into fetal form upon the cold stone floor. Left ear twitched as the just barely discernible footstep of another joined the first. It was at this point a tear streaked down her cheek, the realization that he had been joined by another and that the end was surely upon her something that she had just now accepted. He had the gall to lean in and brush his meaty paw against her cheek, laughing again as he taunted her.

 “All you have to do is give me the names, you know. It can be over in the blink of an eye.” 

She knew he was lying, and he knew that she knew. Her voice rasped out hoarsely in reply, and even in that moment of defeat it seemed that she would not give him the pleasure. 

“The whore who bore you into the world should have swallowed that night, you’d have served our people better as a stain upon the sheets.”

Slap.

The connection of hand to head was enough that teeth jarred and the taste of copper on her tongue was strong and then things began to slide sideways. Perhaps the end was nearer than she had thought.

[anashaes-blog]

The Hunt

Darkness had fallen, blessed darkness which matched intent of mind, body, and soul in this hour. He picked his way through the woods, looking over his shoulder at every turn and sure that he felt a fury rising behind him. Who was he? Did it really matter? From within the shroud of shadows the lithe form drew herself up and scanned the ever shifting elongated blurs at the edge of the veil. By night they were so much closer, almost magnified and calling to her. And now, now the woman blurred with the speed of ancients as she slid from one dark area to the next. It was funny that the moment she broke through, the creatures stilled and the silence was almost deafening.

This fate might not have been his to have, had he merely heeded the warning, had he chosen for himself to do the right thing and simply walk away. For her, it was a retrieval, one of hundreds she'd done in her lifetime and nothing out of the ordinary. That was, until the rogue laid eyes upon the girl. At first approach, they appeared to be dancing on the edge of a small clearing by the river and yet something seemed off. The man's clothes were plain in comparison to hers and his head bent down as if he were kissing the girl. And she? She was an elegantly garbed corpse with hair in perfect order and a long flowing white gown. She was barely more than a child if even that old, golden ringlets curling down to frame a delicate face. Skin as white as snow and just enough make up to give her that natural beauty kind of appeal. He held her there, leaning in to press a final kiss to her lips as though he were her lover, and not the man who had killed her. He leaned forward, her form cradled in his arms and supporting her head as he laid her down in the water and simply let go.

"Reshar D'lorai," the voice sounded out loudly as a step was taken in his direction. The man's head snapped up and he snarled, as though his weak-willed form would dare to intimidate the likes of her. "You were told to walk way and did not." Hands dropped from her belt, loose and relaxed as she readied herself. The sun was nearly setting and around the clearing the muddy hues of dusk settled in, the shadows of night stretching out from trees which towered high over them. At first there had been arrogance in his gaze, Rethar advancing towards her a step. Did he hope to recover his weapons and slay another fragile woman? The smile which tugged at the corner of her mouth as blades sprang to hand told him it was simply not to be. "Now is the part where you run, fool. Now is the time when the hunter becomes the hunted." It was at this moment in time that Reshar decided that the weapons would put him easily within striking distance and something about the way she moved, something about that chilling calm of her voice and intense stare made him shrink back. "I SAID FLEE." Her voice held an authority and a growl just barely tethered beneath the intonation. And so he did.

The water was cold and the girl's body had already begun to drift out of the alcove, those damp ringlets still coiled but now sticking flatly to the deceptive pale flesh. Her name was Terathia Morningblade, her father was a Magus, her mother a skilled weaver of light and shadow. The white dress billowed up around her in a macabre fashion and oddly, the woman thought she rather resembled a porcelain doll. Such innocence was not meant to be spent on the likes of him, of power-hungry souls who lived to sully the world around them with the wants of flesh, greed, and debauchery.

Something about all of it stunk and until she had laid her eyes upon the man, it had not quite all added up. The timing, the reason they were notified so long after Terathia had gone missing, the feeble excuses given, it all came crashing down as Reshar set his eyes upon her then. He was the bastard son of an influential man and though his father would not claim him, he would push enough to delay action. The resemblance was startling and not one person who ever had seen his father would not see the self-same look of arrogance in his eye. That was until it turned into fear for his own life. Dealing with his father would be another task, one which she would relish undertaking in the end.

Gently, the girl was pulled from the water , held almost tenderly in the arms of the woman who had been sent for her. Lurking within the folds of the shadows was another, a familiar presence who had also been dispatched as she had been. He slid into view at her call, looking down at the girl and lifting her up as though she were his own. Gone was the almost roguish charm and light humor that he often carried, the weight in his arms all the reminder needed as to why people like them existed. Evil abounded in this life in many forms, and they helped to keep it in balance.

Night crept in slowly and dark hair billowed about his face as he studied Terathia for a long moment. At the edges of her neck small veins were outlined in a greenish hue and perfect rosebud lips which were tinted in pink held the same hue around the edges where Reshar had smudged the lipstick. This was a nasty deed, her body reeked of perfume and the sticky sweet of poison which had ultimately stopped the function of her vital organs. "This was not a peaceable death," he said, "Reshar must have used an agent on her to preserve her with this expression as she slept." It was a simple note of method, one the woman next to him nodded to. "A slow death. I will see her home unless you-" That dark headed woman looked up at him then sharply, reaching to gather the girl's dangling arm and lifting it to lay across her still form. “Hold her within the veil until you arrive on the steps. Others will be seeking them as well, and I want to spend some quality time with him.” A brow rose for an instant before he nodded and turned, looking back at her for a long moment before pulling to the darkness which they so often shrouded themselves with. “If you need me...” He said. She responded with a simple nod, and then he was gone. Others might not have understood the words she spoke to the degree he did, nor would they recognize that look which rested on her face. Reshar was a dead man walking, and he damn well knew it.

As for Reshar's part, now anger and fear drove him. He crashed through the wooded area, limbs of bushes and trees whipped across his form as legs moved as fast as they could to propel him away to some sort of safety. He was frantic, heart thudding loudly within his own chest, even as he seethed in the anger and rage of a man who had passed the threshold of insanity. Even now, with survival instinct in full form he railed against the dark bitch in his mind and pushed on. It had been the perfect moment in his mind as he held Tarathia to himself and loved her in the way she deserved to be loved. Why couldn't they have been left alone?

A sound was heard behind him and he faltered, looking back over his shoulder to see nothing but a canopy of trees against a sky that held the blue-black hue of moonlight. His own footsteps, the sound of nocturnal creatures stirring and the rush of blood through his veins seemed loud, until they didn't. He trembled in fear and tripped over a root, going head first into a shallow watering hole. Dragging himself up, water sheered off of his body and he let out an angry huff. Nature seemed to still in those moments, the sound of something rushing past him catching his attention as he turned around startled. Fist clenched as he bellowed and raged, “YOU HAVE NO RIGHT. YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS. HE WILL KILL YOU. HE WILL KILL ALL OF YOU!” And then she laughed. The next movement within the hold of shadow was closer this time, the edge of blade neatly scoring his cheek as the rush of wind stirred by her passed him by. He howled and screamed, "SHOW YOURSELF. I DARE YOU."

"Be careful what you ask for," the voice purred into his ear as he turned to reach for her neck. The blade scored itself across his knuckles this time and she managed to stay just out of reach. "Tch. Why didn't you hide? Aren't daddy's men on the hunt as well? I hear he's employed Xavian. Not exactly a bad choice when you can't be too fussy. After all, you're only his bastard and most folk will say you had it coming." She had circled around him this entire time and with each swing and lunge for her, she'd managed another nick or cut. "Does it burn yet? The poison. It's very effective, and well, makes your efforts look rather mild." He couldn't think, his face contorted into a twisted mask of rage. Poison?

The next memory of his was to awaken in the midst of what appeared to be a darkened room. He was alive. Reshar breathed a sigh of relief until he realized, he was alive. It was one of those moments that a person dreams about in slow motion, that relief melting into complete and soul wrenching horror at the fact that not only was he alive and breathing, but that he lay on an angled table with leather and chain bonds. He could see rows of candles around them, on a ledge which lined the entire room. The air seemed cold, despite the glow and heat that the light put off. His next realization was perhaps a bit more panicked than the first, he wasn't blinking. In fact, he wasn't able to move anything and he'd been stripped bare.

The woman stood just within his line of sight, a strained attempt at speech which came across as a groan bit into the air from his throat. That head turned and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Her body turned just enough for him to catch a glimpse of a velvet and leather trimmed roll which was lain out on a long table. Instruments of various shapes and lengths were bound to the roll by ties and it appeared that she was in the midst of selecting just the right one. Pivoting upon heel, that leather clad vision came to stand just over him, looking down. There was a look in her eye that almost amounted to pleasure, almost. The point of the scalpel in her hand pierced his skin. A sound gurgled from his throat again. "Good. You can feel everything but you cannot move. Now, we're going to talk as I work because I don't particularly enjoy the silence when dealing with someone like you. Your name is Reshar D'lorai, and you are about to die."

Two days later a courier arrived at the residence of Andras Reshar, a long narrow box in hand. The household staff signed for the delivery and took the box in with the other parcels to lay on their master's desk. The place was abuzz with activity. Flowers had been delivered in large vases to line upon tables with the most elegant fabric draped over them, fine china place settings and golden cutlery gleamed in the glow of crystal infused orbs which lighted the long dining hall. The guests had even begun to arrive and drawing one of the men he hoped to court in a manner of business into his study, Andras moved to stand behind his desk. "I hope you understand what I am saying then, it's a business proposition and will serve us both well." Out of habit, the man who so closely resembled his offspring reached for the sharp letter opener and cut through the twine on the box. The deep voiced man across the desk from him chuckled and nodded, prattling on about shipments of exotic spices which he had coming in. Andras reached into the box and pulled out what appeared to bean almost leathery looking scroll. "This is most curiou--" As he spoke, he unrolled it and looked down at the face of his bastard son, literally. From across the entirety of the estate proper, the scream of anguish and horror that was heard sent people rushing towards the study. The father's face was white and the 'gift' laying there staring up at him in that morbid and eyeless fashion. A note-card was in his hand, one done up in his own stationary, in his own handwriting. It simply read, "You could have stopped this long ago. The price has not yet been paid."

Across town, a man entered the room still garbed in black robes of a very fine quality. He had just returned from a funeral. "I am told that you sent a message, I can't say I approve." The woman who regarded him did so lightly, with an expression that flashed a glimmer of warning. "Sometimes messages keep innocent children alive." It was a truth he could not argue. "They'll try to find you," he remarked as he pulled out a pouch which was heavy with coin and placed it on the table. "Let them," her eyes drifted to the coin and back to his gaze. "It's the reward for her return, from her father. He insisted." A hand raised in protest and that raven headed figure merely shook her head. "Return it. Tell him it's not done." A bob of head was all the response that was met with at first, that coin pouch being drawn within the folds of robe once again. "And when it is over?" Feet which bore no sound on the marbled floors headed towards the door, a hand reaching for the knob just before she faded from sight and opened it. "When it is over, may it grant them a measure of peace. It is one thing to breed a monster, another entirely to let it do as it wills. If he refuses the coin, send it to the orphans in her name. It is enough." The man's brows rose together in surprise at this, a rogue turning down coin? As he turned to face her, she was gone and the door lay open. Justice was coming, he knew it and Andras Reshar damn well knew it. And for her, it was enough.