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❝ Oh, my, yes. There are lots of flowers. But they aren’t quite like the ones you’re accustomed to, I’m afraid. ❞ With a gait so elegant it could almost be called frolicking, the fallen moved across the grasses toward a small bush on the edge of the wood. Stretching out his hand, he took a couple of the leaves between three of his fingers and suddenly, they were transformed into purple, luminescent bells, akin to something one might see in the stygian depths of Earth’s deepest oceans. They moved as if alive, hanging bulbs of a greenish-yellow light protruding from within their cores, but they were quickly stunted; the smell and sound of something burning filling the air. Almost in the blink of an eye, they charred to a cinder, their ashes falling at Nhiral’s bare feet. 

❝ The flowers in my realm are fed by the moonlight and are deadly allergic to the light of stars. ❞ His emerald orbs looked toward the sun, lids compressed by a furrowed brow. 

❝ I had forgotten just how truly oppressive light can be; I’ve no idea how yu can stand it. ❞

What was an orgy?

She held the door happily, very accustomed to such a tradition, and even more happy that it seemed to impress him. In fact, she’d held the door open for someone for her two decades of life with him, so there was no one on the planet who could hold open a door quite like she. At least she could do that for Nhiral. And… apparently be beautiful, as he said.

“I couldn’t witness the executions. I suppose I would sleep until these feasts of yours.”

She wasn’t certain if that last part was a jest or not, but she would play along. It felt like the polite thing to do, after all. Would anyone honestly find joy in being the center of attention before so many creatures? The thought alone made her sick with anxiety.

“Only if there are lots of flowers, or else I won’t smile once.”

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❝ On the contrary, it is because I am so experienced that I tend to adhere to strict regimes. Executions at noon, feasting in the evening, and orgies by night. It has all become rather rout, if I am being honest. ❞ He trailed off, stepping through the door before the witch. He was rather impressed that she was familiar with the age-old custom of holding a door open for those higher in station. Once outside, he raised a finger, denoting that he had not yet finished. 

❝ That said, however, do not think that you are any mere distraction. You, my beautiful companion, are a disruption. Indeed, no surer a sign is there that the universe is ever in motion and that things do not remain stagnant forever. ❞ Amused by himself, he pulled on the lapels of his elaborate, red silk robe with a proud smile. 

❝ I feel the winds of change already upon us, ❞ As if to physically affirm the metaphysical, he waved his hand through the air, fluidly cutting through the breeze that swept over and through him. ❝ Soon, you shall be paraded through the streets of my realm and every creature in the land will know your name. Does that not excite you? ❞

“I will die before the choice is made for me again.” 

She muttered, mostly to herself. Yet with such bold words, she realized how very un-bold she was. The witch didn’t leave the hut unless he was to go out as well, and if he was gone, she remained holed up in the dark until he came back. So the offer of leaving for a while was met with an eager nod and a hurried rush out of bed, keeping the blanket around her shoulders.

Making for the door, she tugged on the handle, the cold breeze filling her lungs with something other than the staleness of the hut.

“I imagine you tire of things easily. Since you’re so…” Old would be a touch rude, “… experienced?”

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Luke Goss as Prince Nuada in Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008)

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❝ A blessing and a curse. Mankind is paradoxical in nature. You were created to be as such. ❞ Nhiral corrected, gingerly brushing the back of his hand down the witch’s face. 

❝ You have full control over the course of your destiny and, yet, deciding who or what you will become is oft a decision you are too indecisive to make. But one day, you will have to make a choice, my little bird, or a choice will be made for you. ❞ 

Not by him, of course, but by fate itself. Eventually, all things would learn to bow to their betters. Even Nhiral. Climbing out of the bed, he stretched his arms a moment and walked over to the window on the other side of the room, pushing his shoulder against the sill and crossing his arms over his waist. Pools of brilliant jade combed the tree-line, watching the dead limbs of the old wood sway in the breeze that rolled off the sea and swept through the coastal forest in which Aeva had made home. 

❝ We should go for a walk. I tire of these walls and certainly, you must as well. ❞

Heart, meet throat. The poor thing was beating rapidly from the rather innocent contact, and she couldn’t seem to cease smiling.

“I am a…” She tilted her head as her words trailed off, eyes picturing what lie beyond the crumbling ceiling of the long abandoned structure. The night sky, no doubt. It had been a favorite pass-time for years, thinking of the shapes and lights of the constellations, as well as the glare of the moon. Had their eyes met already in those moments?

The poetry of his words spoke clear : Yes.

“Nothing, really.” She settled on the seemingly pessimistic choice, features growing softer in thought, “Not a fox, nor the bird I was named for, nor a scorpion. I don’t know what I am or what I will be, and I suppose that’s the human curse. Fickle until death.”

“I don’t want you to leave my side. You have to show me how to make paper animals.”

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To wit.

Momentarily at a loss for words, Nhiral reclined his shoulders against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling he had been walking upon only moments prior. Oh, how every part of him ached. Moments of solace such as these were so seldom come by that the fallen one was more than happy to indulge when he could. ❝ The fox was ignorant. And the ignorant are doomed. ❞

Taking her comparatively smaller hand into his own, he gave it a squeeze and smiled, ❝ But you-----you are no fox, Aeva. You know, deep inside your heart that I am a scorpion, and yet you are not afraid. You were wrong about me: I am a wicked thing. My soul anchors more burdens than it can bear, but you are my redemption. I would scour the darkest depths or climb the highest peaks just to find my way back here. Beside you. ❞

Slightly gaunt features tensed in anxiety, close in proximity with the one she assumed was the scorpion in this tale, yet even now she still smiles cross-eyed at the paper scorpion upon her nose. At least… she assumed that’s what it was. There weren’t any scorpions where she had lived, obviously. Carefully, she took it in between her fingers, studying the craftsmanship with wonder. She’d never seen anything like it, never even considered one could create something so delicate out of paper. Nhiral had been nothing short of a treasure trove of new and exciting things, and she ate every bit up like a starved wolf.

Was he warning her, in so many words?

He was her friend. Or so she chose to believe, The butterfly wings in her stomach fluttered louder than the voice of reason. It was the first time she wanted someone like him to like her back, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. The mere thought of these feelings was almost painful and unrealistic.

“I cannot swim,” She places the scorpion atop her head, smiling daftly, “I think that makes me safe. Foxes, though, are very mischievous, as my father once said. I think the fox could have earned such a terrible fate.”

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If only what she had said were true. And perhaps, from a certain point of view, it was. But Nhiral knew the truth. The light of his world had been molested by the dark during his journey through the void and further violated by the mere presence of the elder one. Turning his head over his shoulder, his form exploded into a cloud of murky, rouge vapor and ivory feathers, reappearing on the bed beside the witch. 

❝ A scorpion approaches a babbling brook whilst crossing the forest. The scorpion realizes it cannot cross the brook on its own, and so waits for another denizen of the forest to ferry it across. ❞ The fallen one mused, a grin of almost-childlike delight stretching across his mouth. In his hands, he began to adroitly fold a small scrap of parchment.

❝ Along comes a fox. A knowledgable and wise creature, it attempts to steer clear of the scorpion and make its way down the coast. But the scorpion heckles it until it stops. The scorpion pleads with the fox to take it across the brook. The fox is hesitant to agree, insisting that the scorpion will sting it. But the scorpion is tenacious, promising that it won’t sting the fox. After some mental deliberation, the fox concedes, and it agrees to take the scorpion across the stream. ❞ Nhiral continues.

❝ All is well until about halfway across, the fox’s legs cease moving. Its jaw begins to go slack and its vision blurs. The fox looks back at the scorpion, its murderer, and asks, ‘Why? Now we will both drown.’ ❞ Nhiral sets the parchment, folded into the shape of a scorpion, down on the witch’s nose.

❝ To which the scorpion replies, ‘It’s simply my nature.’ ❞

The young woman lay puzzled, each movement followed with a rather untrained eye, but one that yearned to not miss a single step. To be alone in the world was a terrible thing, and she certainly was not prepared to lose her only friend in it, nor let him suffocate with sadness. Aeva saw nothing but purity and misunderstanding in his eyes.

She, too, had learned to like the dark, and had found much solace in the cape the emptiness draped her in. Some things were best left unseen, and the occasional daylight was little more than pain for unadjusted eyes. Yet sunrises were always beautiful, when she saw them.

“A wicked man would not search for light as you do, nor would he devote time to a dying human he does not know.” The witch spoke with some confidence; he WAS good in her eyes. “You… are that light, I believe.”

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Nhiral heaved a sigh weighted by burden, unsure of how to answer the witch’s question. Taking her hand within his own, he held it a moment--only a fleeting, little moment--before moving forward again, a train of red silk shadowing his every step. ❝ I cannot hazard a guess as to when the light shall return, if it ever will. Some say that once the light has expired, it is no more. That there are no lights like it left in the universe. But still, I search, as the warden of my forgotten realm; its solitary protector. ❞

The fallen one’s black mouth formed a straight line. ❝ I suppose, however, that I rather enjoy the dark. ❞ Touching two fingers to his marred visage, he trailed off. An anecdote came to his mind that a kindly, young woman had once told him detailing the account of a fox and a scorpion. 

With his back turned to his host, the ends of Nhiral’s lips creased into a sinister smile. ❝ Shadows do well to cloak one’s sins. And my sins are many. ❞

Baffled by where he chose to stand ( she wouldn’t ask how or why ), she sat up enough to look upward, careful not to let any cold air to infiltrate her cocoon. She couldn’t picture something so lovely, but she trusted that it must have looked remarkably like him. Light, warm, radiant. 

“I wish I could see it,” She smiled, reaching a thin arm out, a gesture beckoning to hold his hand, “Will the light return? Or do you like it that way?”

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"You do not belong here, friend. But, I suppose I don't either. Mandrake?"

❝ If I do not belong here, and I do not belong there, then WHERE do I belong? ❞ The fallen one nods graciously, his mouth a broad smile, and he extends his hand to receive the drink. Whatever ‘mandrake’ was, it smelled awful, but Nhiral was gentleman, first and foremost, and dared not insult his host. Especially not one so kind. 

❝ Perhaps the answer is nowhere. Perhaps it is everywhere. ❞ 

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"Oh! I've never seen someone like you before. You're so... tall!" The gelfling girl giggles into her hands, only a fraction of his height yet harboring no fear.

The fallen one sauntered slowly around the Gelfling in a circle, like a predator does its prey, index finger drumming rhythmically against his black lips. Putting himself in its blindspot, he grabbed the creature by the scruff of its tunic and lifted it to eye level. ❝ What a curious thing you are. ❞

His golden eyes twinkled with intrigue; just where had he found himself? Lifting the creature up a bit higher, he gave it a thorough examination. It was certainly ugly, perhaps even more offensive to the eyes than a Dwarf, but in its wide-eyed gaze, he saw a glimmer of something he had not seen in ages. Something rare.

Innocence.

❝ Thing. Show me to your leader. ❞

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Nhiral had been pacing upon the ceiling, deep in thought, with chin framed by forefinger and thumb, when unexpectedly, the witch awoke. Looking up at her, the shadow of a smile tugged on the ends of his mouth.

❝ The sky was once a dazzling blaze of golden FIRE, bathing the realm in hues of orange and yellow. But light shines there no longer and the aether is a sea of murky black clouds. Every now and again, a glimmer of moonlight breaks the overcast, reminding those that witness it that there is still some radiance left in the world. ❞

@excsus

“What does the sky look like where you’re from?” Inquired the half asleep witch, up to her nose in the softest, warmest blanket she’d ever felt. He’d even been kind enough to lend her one of his robes, which, naturally, she swam in. 

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@ladycarpenoctem // x

❝ T’is such a humbling truth, hunger, for even the gods starve. And starvation begets savagery. ❞

Words of wisdom imparted, emerald pools rose to meet the gaze of the other. A sharp smile tugged at the end of blackened lips and the fallen one pressed a hand to his heart. ❝ I have gone by many names, but the wind calls me Nhiral. For our purposes, this will suffice. And you are Eriseana De Valdedruda. ❞

Taking a step backward, Nhiral formally bows; his movements precise and refined. A practiced gesture. Too long had he spent at his father’s heel not to know the proper manner in which to bow to a lady. 

❝ The pleasure, I assure you, is all yours. ❞

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It was in that moment that he remembered his own family: mother, father, sister. What would become of them now? His father, the lord of their realm, would know the truth of what had transpired in the void the moment it had happened and he would not abide his son’s treachery. But he was easily dealt with, a tired, old fool that had rested upon his laurels for too long. His sister was a different matter entirely. The grand general of his father’s armies, she, too, would have felt the loss of Balmor across the breadth of time and space and once Nhiral returned to the land of light, confrontation would be unavoidable. She would have to be dispatched; she could never understand what he had done or why he had done it. 

Nhiral remained silent, lost within the machinations of his own mind. 

He, too, felt lost. 

❝ What’s next is up to you. ❞ It pained him to say, but he would have to leave again. Gingerly, his thumb ran over her cheekbone. He took a mental picture of this moment with her, as it could very well have been their last. 

❝ You are free. ❞

Her gaze had slowly sunk to the darkness of the room’s floor, a plethora of emotions confusing and turning her stomach into knots. She couldn’t even cry. She didn’t know what she should do, or could do. Be angry and make him angry in return? Shower him with feigned affection? 

Green eyes lifted to look into his, and she cautiously brought the hand against her to her lips, leaving a chaste kiss within its palm. She couldn’t, after all, reach his face.

“Thank you.” She muttered, making herself smile despite the burning desire to run out into the frozen wasteland and perish. Was being tied to another truly freedom? Well, at least she had a short list of people he could sacrifice if the need arose once more.

“I don’t know how or why you found me, Nhiral, but I’m grateful. Though… I don’t know what is next.” She plucked at loose threads on her sleeves, “I’ve no family that wants me back and no way of knowing where they would even be, I feel… very lost, in this moment.”

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Abyssal Seer. by: The Sigilist/©Alexei Vella.

If you are interested in the creation of a personal sigil please purchase them from - http://thesigilist.storenvy.com/ ✹ - Tip Jar -

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for grumpythranduils

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<3

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Prying himself free of her grasp, Nhiral got to his feet. Solid ground felt foreign against his soles, the sudden cold of the stone sending a shiver up his spine and forcing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand still. Taking the haft of his brother’s blade which hung on his belt, he held it out for the woman to see. The ornate, runic handle still dripped with his brother’s murky, grey essence. 

❝ A door opened; an offer was made. I accepted. The Elder One demanded I make a sacrifice and in return, it would grant me the power to save you. ❞ He spoke without a shred of remorse, but with every breath, the dagger of guilt sunk deeper and deeper still into his still-beating heart. 

She looked terrified. And why would she not? She stared now, not at the man that had entered the void to save her on some chivalrous quest to keep the woman he loved from dying, but rather, the anathema of everything that man had stood for. A reflection seen through a shattered mirror. 

But he was BETTER than he had been before; so much more powerful. The accord he struck had imbued him with the powers of an ancient GOD. Immortality, the ability to traverse the realms with as little effort as it took to walk across a room, amongst so many other things. 

Tentatively, he bridged the gap that had formed between them and lowered the handle of his brother’s weapon. Lifting his free hand, he softly pressed his palm to her breast. Upon his bare chest, a runic circle appeared as pure light, mirrored by the one that manifested on her chest as well.  

❝ If you are sickened, I would understand. But know that now, you shall never fear death again, for our souls are entwined. Forever. ❞ 

The young woman felt the cool marble of his skin slide down her face, his statement puzzling her. Why would a complete stranger sacrifice his brother for her? He’d made it clear he had some strange feelings toward her, but they couldn’t be this out of hand. Was he playing some sort of sick joke? 

No, his eyes, his face, they said it all clearly. This man had really just… killed his brother.

“I don-don’t understand.” Her throat grew dry, her image of what she thought he was completely turned upside down. She thought he was sweet and gentle, but now he was someone capable of disposing someone so close to him. Would she be cast off just as swiftly, without hesitation, when he needed someone else to live forever with him? It all felt so sickeningly familiar.

“What happened while y-you were away?”