#but consider: i am a sack of ooze in need of attention

[seagullcharmer]

me when i want to just go ahead and post my art but it's not finished yet

[sebthesnipe]

The Morals of Evil

My Dearest Procyon

Other works by me (AO3)

Tumblr Master Post

First (Beginnings) / Previous / Next

TW: Idk what but... Read at your own risk and let me know if I need to add.

Logan was yanked from where he curled around himself atop his bench, hitting the ground with a solid thud.

He didn’t bother trying to fight. He knew how this went. It wasn’t the first time he had been dragged from his slumber by the brutes that worked for Noname. 

Two pairs of rough hands gripped him under the arms and dragged him up off the floor. He tried to stand, but weakness that had set in from hunger left his legs practically useless. 

The men paid no mind as they carried him out of the cell to be tortured once more. 

Despite his dread, Logan didn’t protest or whimper. No, this was expected. At least there was one good thing that came out of it: he’d get away from that bone chilling cold for just a little bit. 

…………………..

By the time Logan was tossed back into his cell, like a sack of potatoes fresh off the wagon, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone.

He didn’t bother to move off the frozen stone floor or wrap his clothing more tightly around himself. Everything hurt far too much. 

It must have been days. He had drifted in and out of consciousness throughout his time with Noname’s Confessor, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the pain or exhaustion. Logically, he knew that he wouldn’t die from this torture. Noname would send a healer soon enough to ensure that.

He groaned, shifting to relieve some of the weight on his dislocated shoulder, flopping onto his back and hissing from the whip lashes that still oozed. 

He peered up at the moss covered ceiling, his vision beginning to blur. What he wouldn’t give for an end to all of his suffering. 

The world began to fade.

He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t give Noname the information he was searching for. 

Suddenly, everything went black.

…………………………………

Logan huddled around himself, a small flame dancing between his fingers. 

He coughed weakly, curling closer around the little heat that the small flame produced, ignoring the sound of people milling past his small alley in the busy street. 

“Ah, there you are!” a silky voice came, causing Logan to glance up at the well dressed man. “I thought I sensed magic. Though, I have to say, finding someone so young is a surprise.” 

Noname bent low, offering out a hand to the young Logan, who shied away from the movement, obviously expecting to be struck. 

“Don’t worry, Kiddo,” Noname cooed softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. How about you come with me and we get you a nice meal and some warm clothes?” 

Logan eyed him suspiciously, but the mention of food had his stomach growling. 

“Come on now, I know you must be-”

“So this is how it happened,” Logan’s dream companion commented, appearing just over Noname’s shoulder. “It’s about time.”

Logan pushed himself to his feet, becoming aware of the dream just as he always did when the other man appeared. 

“Why are you so interested in my meeting with Noname, anyway?” Logan asked, brushing off the snow from his trousers. 

“You’re the oldest of his followers,” the violet eyed man pointed out, as he circled the unmoving man in question. “No one really knows anything about you, aside from the fact that you’re his seer.”

“Was his seer,” Logan corrected. “Now I’m nothing more than his prisoner.” 

“A seer that disobeyed him,” the companion commented, pulling himself up to sit on one of the crates. 

“With good reason,” Logan countered. Something tugged at his mind. There were so many pieces to this puzzle and yet he couldn’t put it together. Who was this man, what was his interest in Logan, and why did he seem so familiar?  

As if sensing Logan’s confusion, the companion waved his hand, quickly replacing it with the ever present apathy that accompanied these dreams. 

“I dunno,” the younger man said pointedly, “it seems like a prolonged amount of torture and your enevitable death would be reason enough not to disobey him.” 

“The things I’ve seen,” Logan replied, “They are reason enough to endure such treatment.”  He moved to study the younger face of his old friend. Noname had been quite handsome back then, with kind features and a warm smile. Logan couldn’t help but stare, just for a moment. The man before him no longer existed, that much was clear.

 The feeling of loss made his chest constrict painfully. 

“What did you see?” The dream companion asked, peering at Logan eagerly. 

Logan tensed at the question, his head suddenly beginning to pound. The dream around them shook violently, tossing his companion off of the crate with only the blanket of snow to cushion his fall. 

“Nevermind!” The fallen man cried, not having expected such a violent reaction from Logan. It appeared he’d have to ease his way into that particular topic. Luckily his dismissal seemed to work in calming Logan, or at least stop the dream world from collapsing around them.

 “And they call me temperamental,” the violet eyed man scoffed as he pulled himself to his feet, bushing off his dark cloak. “So, Noname found you. Then what?”

The image began to fade at the question. The unmoving version of Noname shimmered before dissolving into the snow, replaced by a large table inside  a crowded inn.

Logan turned towards the new scene, catching sight of Noname.He sank down on an empty bench as his old friend placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

“So, tell me about yourself, Kiddo,” Noname smiled, sitting across from him. “Where are your parents?”

Logan didn’t answer as he watched him, studying his features. His heart ached for this man, just as it had done before. Not the man that currently held him prisoner, but the man before him; the one that had pulled him off the streets and offered him safety and warmth.

“Whoa! Slow down! You’re going to make yourself sick,” Noname laughed. Logan noticed for the first time that the bowl of stew seemed to be emptying itself out, sloshing over the sides as if someone was currently ravishing it. 

Noname turned to call for another bowl before the image froze.

“Seeing him like this is creepy,” the  companion commented, suddenly at Logan’s shoulder once more. “He seems so…” the man grimaced, “.… Smiley.”

“He was like that back then,” Logan nodded, giving his own soft smile.

“When did he turn?” The companion asked, erasing Logan’s smile instantly.

The scene dissolved into another new dream. 

Noname stood  perched on a large pedestal built in the center of a crowded courtyard A light shone from his chest and the crowd of people shuffled closer and closer. 

Logan brushed past them as they parted to make way. Soon he stood at the base of a large flowing fountain. 

Noname smiled down at Logan. He bent to cup his hands into the water and offered them out for the man to drink. Logan obeyed. Noname’s shine dimmed just slightly as Logan’s own incandescence appeared. When Logan stepped back into the crowd, another man stepped forward. Noname bent, scooping water before offering it out. His glow faded again.The process repeated. 

“Sharing a source of magic doesn’t turn someone evil,” The companion commented, pulling Logan’s attention.

“Noname is not evil,” Logan chided with a glare. 

“How can you say that after everything he’s done to you?” the other man demanded with confusion. 

“Evil is a construct that keeps humanity in what we consider a moral line, but it is not a force or a being. Evil is an act which we consider bad,” Logan lectured. “A person does not turn evil.”

“Whatever you say,” the companion scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “My question still stands.”

“If you are trying to understand what made him who he is, perhaps you should understand this,” Logan sighed, obviously not too enthused by the line of conversation. “If a man murders another in order to save the lives of the ones he cares about, does that make him evil?”

“Well…” the companion mumbled, obviously considering the scenario, “no.”

“And yet, he has still committed murder,” Logan replied.

“Yes, but for a good reason,” the companion countered.

“So, an inherently evil act can be considered good if the reasons are justified?”

“I… suppose so,” The companion shrugged,  “I don’t think I understand where this is going.” 

“Of course you don’t,” Logan retorted, earning a glare. “Noname was a good man who cared greatly for those who found themselves in need. He was willing to share himself with each and every one of them until-”

“Until there was nothing left,” The companion realized, peering over his shoulder at the now dimly lit man who still scooped water. 

Logan nodded. “If you give too much of yourself away, it can be hard to continue to see the good in the world. You lose sight of what is important.Instead of doing what’s right or good, you fight to support others.” Logan nodded towards the shadow of the man in question. “You starve for power and will do anything it takes to obtain it because without it you lose the ones you’ve struggled to care for and that…” He paused, shaking his head, the image obviously paining him. “Well, that is worse than death itself.”

Silence fell for a moment as Logan’s companion took the words in. 

“You’re telling me that Noname does what he does out of love?” He scoffed. “That’s a bit hard to believe.”

“No,” Logan huffed in mirthless amusement. “No, I’m telling you that is how it started. He’s since lost sight of that. All he knows now is the thirst for power.”

“Which is why you disobeyed him?” 

“In part,” Logan nodded, turning away from the scene, unable to watch any longer. “I am a seer. I’ve seen many things. Some of which has proven to me that my decision is one I doubt I will ever regret.”

“So, you saw the outcome of his next endeavor?” The companion asked. 

“I saw a few outcomes, yes.”

“So, what the big deal. Why not tell him?”

Logan pinned him with a flat stare. “Knowledge is power. You should keep that in mind. That’s what these dream interrogations are all about, aren’t they?” Logan asked, feeling no small amount of pride at the surprised look the other man gave. “Yes, I knew what was happening despite your attempts to keep my mind clouded. I’ve seen what Noname will have to do to gain the power he seeks. I’ve seen how he can accomplish it and how he can lose it. Noname knows this. He also knows that the likelihood that he will obtain that power without my assistance is very slim. More importantly I have seen the outcome of what will happen if Noname succeeds.” 

“So, what if-”

“No!” Logan snapped, taking a step forward, his eyes starting to shimmer with an eerie blue light. “Let me be clear, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you pry, no matter how much flesh they tear from my body, I will NOT help him achieve his goals! Noname does not care what happens IF he manages to take the power he wants. He only cares that he succeeds in obtaining it. And if you have any self-preservation or care for your fellow man, you will see to it that he never does!”

Virgil staggered back as Logan’s power engulfed his own, bringing the younger man’s name to the forefront of Logan’s mind. Yes, He remembered him! Virgil had barely been older than Logan had been when he was taken in. He had-

“I’m not a coward!” Virgil yelled angrily, straightening. “I’m not the one  wasting away in a cell  because he’s afraid of power!” 

“Ha!” Logan laughed coldly, “I am willingly marching towards my own death and you think that is cowardice! I would hate to see your definition of bravery,” 

“Don’t you get it?!” Virgil snapped in response, though he found himself sinking back at the sound of Logan’s laughter. “The more powerful Noname gets the more powerful we all do!” 

Logan’s amusement evaporated instantly, anger flooding him. The dreamscape began to shake just as it had done before, making Virgil stumble to keep his balance. 

“You’re just like the rest of them.” Logan growled, “So power hungry. So selfish.” Logan’s presence seemed to grow. At first the sense was something intangible, like the an empath could feel another’s distress. Then, Logan’s physical form grew, doubling in size in a matter of seconds.

“I am not doing this for my sake you imbecile! I’m doing it for him! For you! For all of y-”

Virgil snapped, his fingers sliding against one another, the sound echoing in Logan’s mind.

tag list:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale

[alydiarackham]

(Cover by me)

Scales: A Fresh Telling of Beauty and the Beast by Alydia Rackham

Chapter One

“Once Upon A Time”

“Snakes!”

The shriek ripped down a wide stone corridor near the kitchens of Tirincashel, followed by the battering of fleeing footsteps. Eleanora threw herself back against the wall as Hattie, a plump kitchen maid, barreled past her, skirts hiked up in her thick hands.

“Run, Princess Ele!” Hattie puffed, her face red, her eyes wide, her bonnet askew. “There are snakes in the larder!”

“What?” Eleanora called after her. “What kind of snakes?”

“Blue asps!” Hattie shouted back, her voice pitching to a screech. “Dozens and dozens of them!” Her words dissolved into a trailing howl as she rounded the corner to sound the castle-wide alarm. Eleanora frowned, watching her, then gathered up her long green skirt and trotted down the hall in the exact direction Hattie had come from.

A winsome, slender fourteen, Princess Ele made little sound as she darted across the worn gray stones, through the alternate light and shadow

created by the line of tall windows to her left. The scent of lavender washed past her face. Her long black hair flagged out behind her as she hurried faster, listening. She swung around the corner to her right and hopped down a short staircase, then darted onward, past the rustling torches.

Up ahead, light shone from a doorway—and clanging, crashing and shouting rang out to meet her.

“Get back, get back, Ailse! You’re in the way!” a rough voice ordered—Ele recognized it as Pather’s, one of her father’s huntsmen.

“Sorry!” Ailse stammered, and stumbled backward into the hallway, almost tripping on her long skirt. The young, thin woman wore the plain white-and-tan cotton clothes and cap of a kitchen maid, and her eyes had widened with panic.

Ele’s feet pounded now, and Ailse jerked around and caught sight of her.

“Princess, you mustn’t come any closer!” she cried, throwing out her hands to stop her.

“I want to see!” Ele insisted, grabbing the doorframe of the larder and swinging around it—

Pather, a short, thick, dark-bearded man in softened leather, stood with his back to her, facing the hung baskets of onions, apples and herbs, his attention bent toward the feet of the wine casks that neatly lined the dirt floor. In his left hand he held a short club, and in the other, a gleaming hatchet.

Hssssssss…!

Ele’s blood ran cold as the sound shivered through the air. And at last, her attention caught on the writhing tangle near Pather’s feet.

Four asps, flowing like ink, wound and wended around each other, their scales twinkling in the lamplight, seeming to change hue even as they moved—from deepest midnight, to the ripple of the ocean at noon, to a shimmering silver.

But their eyes glowed red, like low embers, and their flickering tongues looked like needles of obsidian.

“You women need to get back,” Pather warned, adjusting his grip on his hatchet. “I don’t want—”

One of the snakes reared up.

It suddenly lifted half its body to waist height, and its neck flared with

silver spines. Its eyes blazed like fire, and its jaw spat open, revealing long, black fangs.

Pather swung his hatchet.

He struck the snake down and his blade connected with the ground—the snake’s head lopped off.

Ele slapped her hands over her mouth as her heart gave a painful pang—

“Don’t kill them!”

The other snakes exploded with snapping, hissing with the fury of bees. Pather ignored her—

And cut them all to pieces.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Their blood splattered across the casks.

The room fell silent. Pather, panting, righted himself, and hefted his weapon. He turned around, and glanced at Ele, then at Ailse. Sweat ran down his pale face.

“Are the two of you all right?”

Ele didn’t answer. She stared at the shreds of dead animal lying strewn behind him.

“I’m…I’m all right,” Ailse replied faintly. “Thank you, Pather…”

Pather’s heavy brow frowned, and his attention sharpened.

“Ailse, you look white.”

Ele turned to look at her…

Just as the young woman’s skin turned ash-gray, and she collapsed.

“No, no, no!” Pather cried, throwing down his club and hatchet and leaping forward. He clumsily caught her, and the two of them fell to the ground. Ele leaped back and hit the doorframe.

“She’s been stung!” Pather cursed as he hastily laid Ailse down and frantically began feeling all over her arms. Finding nothing, he then tossed the hem of her skirt aside…

To reveal a silver spine stuck through the skin of her ankle. A spine that oozed dark purple liquid.

Pather went still, staring at it.

Then, slowly, he covered his face with his hand.

  A day later, Ailse died. She never regained consciousness after she collapsed in the hall. And as her family, friends, and the royal household watched, her skin turned from ash to gray, to the tone of stone, and at last her heart stopped. She was given a kindly burial by the king, for she had been a cheerful and helpful maid for five years.

Ele’s heart ached. And in the span of that day, she had ceased to feel any sympathy at all for those wicked blue asps, or any other creatures of like kind.

 Chapter Two

“There Lived A Minstrel”

Seven Years Later

 “No, you can’t wear that dress,” Oralia snapped, tossing her long, golden curls as she snatched the scarlet-and-silver gown out of Ele’s hands. She lifted her chin and her sky-blue eyes flashed before she spun around and marched back to her four-poster bed, which was covered in fluffy white pillows and comforters. “You have black eyes and black hair and not a pinch of color in your face,” Oralia went on in her swift, bird-like tone. “You would look like death. Even worse than you look right now, in that sack.”

Ele glanced down at her long-sleeved, loose-fitted beige dress and cream apron.

“Do you expect me to garden in a ball gown?” she asked as she folded her arms, sure to use her low, smooth voice to make her sound even older than her sister—though she only exceeded her by one year.

“You shouldn’t be gardening at all,” Oralia declared. “You’ll be dirty and smelly and brown and your hands will get rough—no one will want to marry you.”

“You really oughtn’t order me around,” Ele answered, a hint of warning in her tone. “It’s my dress and my birthday—I should to be able to wear what I want.”  

“No,” Oralia shot back, ignoring the warning. “I’ve told you—I am planning everything. Including what you’re wearing.”

Ele considered an answer, then bit her tongue and sank down in a short chair near Oralia’s wardrobe, watching the shorter, blonde girl rush and fuss through her lavishly-decorated chambers, tossing dresses, undergarments and jewelry onto her bed.

Oralia was beautiful. She had a charming, glowing face, a lovely figure, and cascading golden hair that was the envy of every woman in the realm. And her eyes constantly sparkled, she had long, black lashes, dark eyebrows, and an elegant, effortless way of moving that almost looked like dancing. She also used a bright, endearing tone of speech with the servants, subjects, and their parents—a tone that Ele never heard when the two of them were alone together.

“I think the tapestries are a bit much,” Ele remarked, resting her elbow on the armrest and her chin on her hand. “I can’t see the walls.”

“The tapestries are gorgeous,” Oralia answered.

“Yes, but you have all of them, now,” Ele said. “Did you leave any in Mother’s room?”

“Mother doesn’t need them,” Oralia retorted. “She said so herself.”

“You have six lamps in here, too,” Ele observed. “And the gold mantel lions from Papa’s old chambers…”

“Listen,” Oralia huffed, straightening and facing her. “I like pretty things. I like pretty things all around me. And I especially like pretty things that other people aren’t properly appreciating!”

Ele watched her for a moment, a low pain traveling down through her chest.

“Is that what you thought of Roderick?” she asked quietly. “That I wasn’t properly appreciating him?”

“Tosh,” Oralia waved her off and straightened a bright pink frock. “He and I are not even close to betrothed. You can certainly have him back if you like.”

“Perhaps I would,” Ele murmured, not taking her eyes from her sister. “If he would even look at me.”

“Ha! Well, perhaps he will tonight,” Oralia said lightly. “I’m going to be paying my attentions to the new bard we hired—you remember, the one I heard at the fair and made Papa call to court?”

Ele’s brow furrowed.

“No…”

“Amberian, Master of Lute and Song!” Oralia sang the name, scooped up a dress and pressed it to her heart. “Though—everyone calls him Amber. Not sure why. They say he looks like it, but I have no idea what that means.” She sighed and gave Ele a dreamy look. “Wait until you hear him sing, Ele. You’ve never heard anything like it in your life. And people say he can compose songs right upon the instant, if you give him a line and a subject.” She twirled around, and the frilly skirt flared out around her. “I fell quite in love with him at the fair. Tonight, I’m going to have him write a song about me.”

“Oh, good,” Ele sat back in her chair. “Just what I wanted for my birthday.”

Oralia giggled and stopped spinning.

“Your birthday present is your new dress!” she said.

“My new dress?” Ele asked, surprised. “It’s finished?”

Oralia gave her a sly look.

“It’s just been delivered to your room.”

Ele sat up straight, then looked at Oralia sideways. But Oralia just grinned and twirled again. Ele hesitated, then got to her feet and hurried out of the room, hearing her sister laugh behind her.

  “Oralia hates me.”

“What?! What makes you think that?”

“Look at what she’s given me to wear to the feast.” Ele held up the dress she had found waiting for her on her own bed: a bright orange gown with large ruffles all down the front of the skirt. It had not been wrapped, hung or folded.

“It…doesn’t have sleeves,” Ele’s mother—a tall, chestnut-haired, beautiful

woman with striking green eyes—raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. “She said she was finished making it...”

“She did not make it,” Ele countered, tossing the dress down on her emerald bedclothes. “She got it from the trolls.”

“I might believe that,” her mother replied, sighing and fingering the skirt of the orange dress. “If trolls wore clothes.”

Ele sighed as well and ran her hand absently down through her own long hair, studying her mother’s winsome, brown-clad figure. Ele frowned.

“How do you braid your hair like that?”

“Four strands,” her mother answered absently, pushing her own long, thick plait out of the way—the end of it brushed the rug.

“Can you do that with mine? For this evening?”

“Mhm,” her mother nodded. Then, she glanced up at her daughter. “What are you going to wear?”

“I will not wear this,” Ele pointed at the hideous orange dress. Mother paused, and watched her, a weight seeming to settle around her.  

“Today is your birthday, Eleanora. Today, you’re of age, and have as much authority as I do.”

Ele’s head came up, her attention caught by her mother’s tone. She watched Mother’s eyes as she solemnly gazed back at her.

“Your commands to those beneath you cannot be overruled,” Mother went on. “And your father and I will uphold all of your decisions. The kingdom now expects you to behave with the mind of a queen.” Mother reached out and took Ele by the shoulders, speaking low and warm. “You know the law. Papa and I will now step back from you, so that you may be ruled by your own heart and mind. And we are eager to see what you will do.”

“So…what does that mean?” Ele asked. “Regarding the dress?”

Mother winked at her.

“You may wear whatever you like.”

Ele smiled back, relieved deep down within her as she watched Mother leave. She listened to her footsteps fade away down the corridor. Then, she sighed, sank down and laid on her back on her wide, canopied bed. Her headboard rested against the stone wall, and just to the left of it stood a wide window, through which the afternoon sun poured. The light washed over Ele as she lay there, gazing at her empty ceiling, breathing in the scent of the cinnamon and cloves that she always enjoyed keeping in a small bowl on her vanity. She diddled her fingers, her gut slowly tightening, until an aching knot formed.

Roderick would be at the feast tonight. As Father’s bravest and finest knight, it was out of the question to exclude him from royal festivities. And he would be following Oralia around all evening, even if she was chasing the minstrel…

“Hmhmm…Hmmm…Hmhm”

Ele’s brow furrowed, her attention sharpening.

A low, melodic tone drifted through the slight crack in her window.

A voice.

Slowly, she sat up.

She climbed off the bed and circled it, then approached her window. Carefully, she pressed her fingertips against the lowest pane, and the window swung open. She rested her arms on the cool stone sill, and glanced down into the bright courtyard just one story below.

Other than the guards at the gate, the broad courtyard was deserted—except for a single person. He sat on the steps of the well, in the shade of its little canopy, with a butter-colored lute resting across his lap. He carelessly plucked the strings—they jingled pleasantly within the stone enclosure. Ele’s gaze fixed on him, and she couldn’t look away.

He wore fine, tanned leather, much of which had been dyed playful colors. He also had on walking shoes, but no hat. She noticed this peripherally, though, to the rest of his soft and unusual aspect.

His skin was a warm, southern tone—black eyebrows and lashes. He had a handsome face, tilted to the side as he attended to his lute. His short, curly hair bore a mix of colors: some strands of deep russet, others charcoal, others like the embers of a low fire, others like burnished gold. He struck a chord, then took a deep breath…

And began to sing, all for himself.

And Ele’s heart rose to the clouds.

 “If a gold coin lies down

In the shaft of a well

And deep water hides it

Its worth can you tell?

If the shadows conceal it and moss makes its bed

Is this gold valued less

Than upon a king’s head?”

 Even dressed in childish lyrics and a lilting tune, she had never heard a voice like it. Like the sunshine on a summer’s day after a wash of delightful rain. Like a river laughing downhill through shimmering stones. Like a lit hearth in the evening after a long day of hiking through the snow. Like cider and honey, like candles at twilight, like wind off the ocean, like bells resounding through a valley…

Like nothing in the world. The more she searched her heart for comparisons, the fewer she found that even came close. She held her breath as she listened, chastising even her heartbeat for distracting from the song.

His fingers moved deftly across the strings, and he lifted that voice once more, with an ease that made Ele beam with delight.

 “So mark well my words now

Remember this tune

Lest the world tries a falsehood

To lead you untrue

No matter the depths of the black water cold

The coin is still worth all its true weight in gold.”

 His fingers lifted off the strings. The last notes echoed and settled into the courtyard, as if coming home to roost within the walls. The young man sighed, and moved to stand up.

“Will you be playing that tonight?” Ele’s voice startled the echoes—but she smiled even more broadly as the surprised young man hopped to his feet, and his eyes found hers. Eyes of the brightest brown—almost coppery.

She knew who he was. This had to be Amberian of the Lute. But Ele suddenly realized why the name “Amber” was the only one that suited him.

“Hullo!” he answered her, a reflexive smile lighting his features. Then he laughed. “I didn’t know anyone was up there.”

“I was hiding,” Ele confessed. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Oh, I was just practicing.” He swung his lute strap over his shoulder.

“It was beautiful,” Ele told him, a sudden lump in her throat. His smile brightened, and he briefly ducked his head.

“Thank you.”

Ele blinked. Modesty? With that voice?

“Has…Has someone come to invite you in?” she asked.

He looked up at her again, and shook his head.

“Not yet. I think they’ve forgotten me.”

“No, no, no,” Ele chuckled. “I have it on good authority that Princess Oralia is dying to see you.” She straightened and held up a finger. “Stay put—I’ll go see to it that someone opens the doors for you.”

“What should I do then?”

Ele stopped.

“Hm?”

His coppery eyes searched hers—earnest and open.

“Once I come in,” he clarified. “I’ve never sung for a king before. And…I’ve always found it’s a good idea to ask other servants what to expect before I enter a new house.”

Ele’s face flushed, and she opened her mouth—

Then stopped herself. Smiled slowly.

“That’s probably wise,” she answered. She lifted her chin. “Well…If I were you, I’d get settled into my quarters first, and be careful to memorize the way, since all the passages twist in that corner of the castle. And, at dinner tonight, I would stay in sight of the king and queen—I know they’ll want to hear you. After that, when the dancing begins, get clear of the knights. They don’t have any patience for minstrels, especially if they’ve been enjoying the mead.”

Amber’s brow furrowed—worry crossed his gaze.

“Or,” Ele suddenly added. “If….you need to escape entirely, there is a library just off the dining hall. I’ve hidden there myself.” She gazed at him again, unable to keep the warmth from her tone. “But I’m sure it won’t come to that. You’ll do very well.”

Amber drew himself up, and the tension eased from his shoulders.

“Best of luck,” Ele said, straightening to withdraw into her room—though her heart gave an odd pang. “I need to be going.”

“Will you be there this evening?” Amber called. Ele stopped.

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

“I’ll see you soon, then!” he waved at her. Her grin widened, she waved back, pulled in and shut the window. After standing for just a moment, staring across her room, she drew her head up in decision, and made for the door.

  Chapter Three

“Who Danced With A Princess”

 Ele walked quietly down the cool, torch-lit corridors, her floor-length, homespun green gown rustling with her steps. It had long, fitted sleeves, simple gold embroidery around the scooped collar, a slender waist and a flared skirt. It was comfortable, and nothing more formal than a day dress. She also wore no jewelry at all, and her mother had braided her hair without ornament.

Ele’s cold fingers closed as she heard the sounds of the party—voices, clanging dishes, shuffling feet—roll toward her down the stone hall. Rich scents drifted around her, too: breads, pheasant, boar, venison, ciders, wines, and roasted nuts. Her stomach clenched even harder. She slowed and bit her cheek. Halted. Slid her right foot backward.

“Eleanora!”

She jerked, her hand flying to her heart. It hammered against her ribs as a tall figure blundered out of the shadows to her right and came to a panting halt. She could halfway see him in the torchlight—slender and handsome, with dark hair and vibrant blue eyes. Eyes she had often compared to the spring sky. He wore the leather and dress jerkin of the knighthood of the royal house. And the sight of him sent pain shooting from her chest out to her fingers and all the way down her back.

“Roderick,” she gasped, lowering her hand and giving him a look. “Are you trying to frighten me?”

“No,” he quickly gave a half smile. “No, I was looking for you.”

She watched him.

“Why?”

“Well, your father is looking for you, for one,” he said, finally catching his breath. “And I also hoped I’d have the honor of sitting next to you this evening, and dancing with you at least twice.”

Ele stared at him, but he only gazed back at her, and smiled.

“The seating is arranged,” Ele carefully reminded him. “You’ve been assigned to Oralia’s right hand—she did that herself—”

“Never mind her,” he waved it off. “You and I are still good friends, are we not? And I’ve neglected you lately. Besides, Oralia is otherwise occupied. With party business.”

Ele frowned—

 “A prince of realms did hold a ball,

Forced to marry, against his will

But to the ball, a lady came

All else forgot but this lady fair

 And he must dance with her, oh—

And he must dance with her

Throw over all the kingdom’s worth,

But he must dance with her.”

 A voice—as pure as refined gold and as rich as aged wine resounded through the feasting hall ahead of her, silencing the chatter and hushing all the guests to listening. She glanced at Roderick. His smile faltered. Ele drew in a deep breath. It hurt badly.

“You don’t want to spend time with me,” she realized. “And you wouldn’t. Except that Oralia is sitting with the minstrel. Isn’t she?”

Roderick blinked.

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean—She is? I hadn’t noticed. I…How did you…?”

Ele’s gut twisted and her fists clenched.

“You want to make her jealous,” she said. “Pretending to pay court to me so she’ll come to you.”

“No, Ele—” Roderick held up his hand.

“I am a princess of this kingdom,” Ele snapped, her eyes stinging. “You will address me as ‘your royal highness,’ ‘princess’ or ‘my lady.’” Suddenly, her whole body broke out in shivers, and she had to fight to form her next words. “But not now,” she managed. “I do not wish to see you or anyone for the rest of the evening.” And she charged past him, away from the feasting hall and down a dark, narrow corridor where no one but the servants ever walked.

   “She was so fair, she was so sweet

He was stricken with true love

But when he asked, she would not tell

The name her mother gave.

 He fell in love with her, oh—

He fell in love with her

Throw over all the kingdom’s worth

But he fell in love with her.”

 Amber delicately pressed the thin strings of his lute with his fingertips, watching their progress as he plucked with the other hand. The notes reverberated through the wooden chest of the instrument, shimmering through the large, towering banquet hall. He sat on a low, comfortable stool with the wide granite fireplace to his back. The crackling flames behind him warmed his jerkin, almost humming along with the tune. He smiled to himself, took a deep breath, and kept singing.

 “At midnight’s strike, she fled from him

And left behind her shoe,

The prince despairs of finding her

But he vows that’s what he’ll do.”

 As he sang, he lifted his head, and glanced around the room. Torches lit it, as did tall, white-wax candles atop gold and silver sticks. The three long food-and-wine-laden tables had been arranged in a U, with its open end toward him. The king and queen sat directly across from him in tall, wooden chairs. Queen Lilian was beautiful and stately, with dark hair and emerald eyes that sparkled as she watched him, her fingers lightly entwined. King Herrard sat back, a small, pleasant smile on his bearded face. He reminded Amber every inch of a lionesque monarch—with a blond mane of hair, weather-beaten features and warm brown eyes. Both royals wore splendid comfort—scarlets and golds unrivaled anywhere else, with glimmering jewelry on their hands and throats. At the other tables sat courtiers and knights also dressed in glittering garb—many of the women wore elaborate hats and headdresses. They all listened to Amber, eating quietly if their appetites demanded it, as the flamelight played across their finery, the cutlery, and their attentive gazes. Amber’s attention once more caught on the royal table. The chair to the right of the queen stood empty. As did the two chairs to the king’s left. He could only account for one of those vacancies.

For on a fur rug right next to his feet sat princess Oralia, dressed in scarlet embroidered with white, and diamonds dancing at her ears and upon her fair throat. Her gold hair, in endless ringlets, spilled down her shoulders all the way to the floor. She watched him fixedly with radiant blue eyes, her perfect, blushing face tilted toward him. Amber kept singing.

 “And he must find her soon, oh—

Yes, he must find her soon

Throw over all the kingdom’s worth

But he must find her soon.”

 With a gentle flourish, he finished the song and lifted his right hand off the strings, smiling down at the gleaming face of his lute.

“Ah!” the courtiers exclaimed—a half-sigh of pleasure—and burst into applause. Amber raised his head and met several of their happy glances as cheering rang through the rafters. The king and queen rose to their feet, and the king struck his hands together mightily, grinning from ear to ear. Amber got up, and bowed to them at the waist. When he straightened, he found the king still beaming, and shaking his head.

“Though I spent my boyhood and youth in the north with my father, living amongst the fellowship of Caldic Curse-Breakers,” he boomed. “And night after night, around their enchanted fires, I listened to their music—music spun from the weavings of the wind, and the tones of the very morning light itself…” He held out a hand to Amber. “I have never heard such a song as that. How proud I am that I, of all fortunate men, am blessed to have the finest voice in all the land grace my humble halls.”

The court burst into another round of clapping, nodding firmly to Amber and to each other. Amber inclined his head to him, his heart swelling.

“And how proud I am,” the king shouted over the noise. “To have a daughter with such impeccable taste—and cheerful stubbornness—that she insisted I bring him here, to delight us this evening and forevermore!” He gestured broadly to Oralia, fondness glowing in his features. She hopped to her feet, and gave them all cute curtsey, at which the courtiers laughed.

“And now,” the king went on. “As we have all eaten our fill, I pray that the other musicians come forth to play for the dancing!”

A wilder cheer went up as the four-piece ensemble shuffled out with their pipes and drums, and began arranging their chairs and stools. The roar of the hall billowed over Amber, as well as the thousand delicious scents from the feast, and warmth bloomed through his chest. Maybe now he could go to the kitchen and get some food—he hadn’t eaten all day—and come back out to watch some of the dancing—

Fingers grabbed his wrist. He swung around.

Oralia had hold of him with both her hands, and she tilted her head coyly at him.

“Come, Amber!” she cried, pulling close to his face. Lavender perfume washed over him.

“Come dance,” she enticed, smiling beautifully. She slid her hand down and interlaced their fingers. “I’ve been waiting all evening to dance! Please?”

“With me?” he cried.

“Of course! Why not?” she insisted.

“Ha,” Amber laughed. “All right—if you say so.”

“I do,” she answered resolutely. “Come!”

Amber managed to set his lute down on his chair before she pulled him toward the group of courtiers who had lined up in the center of the room. Amber filed in next to the men and faced the iridescent princess, who gave him a saucy look as she took her place. The musicians tuned, paused—then burst into song.

With a grin, Amber sprang into the dance—Oralia followed immediately. They swung and swirled together, weaving expertly between the other colorful dancers as the music soared to the ceiling. They met in the middle, he wrapped his arm around her waist and they spun wildly—both let out ringing laughs. Oralia’s golden hair flung out behind her like a glorious flag, her skirt flaring like flower petals. The dance blurred around them, and they easily kept pace with the quick rhythm, out-dancing everyone else on the floor.

The music built to a frenzied beat—Amber’s heart pounded in his ears—and finally, the players finished with a sweep of gusto. The seated courtiers began to clap first, then the panting dancers. Amber applauded, nodding at the fevered musicians, then sent a happy look to Oralia—

Who promptly stepped to him and pressed her lips to his cheek in a quick kiss. His face went hot.

“I’m off to get a drink,” she told him as she skipped back. “I will find you for the next dance!”

Amber could only get out a laugh before she darted off through the crowd. Shaking his head, Amber made his way to a long side table where sat a large bowl of cold, red punch, along with several empty silver goblets. He picked up a goblet, hefting its weight in his hand, and reached for the ladle—

A hand slapped down on his left shoulder. An arm draped across his back. Amber instantly went still. His head came around to the right—

A knight. Back-haired, lean and wolf-like, with piercing blue eyes. Right next to him. With his arm around him.

And he stared straight back at Amber, his gaze like ice.

Amber’s heart thudded once.

The knight’s mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile, but it didn’t look real.

“What are you doing over here, bard?” the knight asked, his voice deep and calm.

“I’m…getting a drink,” Amber answered, his brow slowly furrowing as he watched those wintry eyes.

“Oh, you are,” the knight’s eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“I’m thirsty,” Amber replied. The knight’s hand tightened on Amber’s shoulder.

“And why is that?” the knight pressed.

“I have been dancing.”

“Ah. I see. That’s interesting,” the knight said casually. “Because I thought I was hallucinating earlier, when I saw the princess dancing with a servant.”

Amber’s jaw clenched. The knight’s crooked smile grew.

“And I was convinced my vision was continuing to blind me when I saw a servant approach a table meant for courtiers and royalty. I’m so glad you’ve confirmed the truth. I thought I was going quite mad.”

Amber said nothing. But his free hand closed into a tight fist. The knight’s grip tensed further.

“I’m not exactly certain what corner of the woods you’re from, lad—but in civilized places, there are such things as codes of conduct, and expectations for folk of various stations. And in this kingdom,” He leaned close, and hissed in Amber’s face. “Servants do not touch princesses. Neither do they pollute the food or drink of their betters. Now, I know you are a newcomer, so I will release you this one time.” The knight withdrew just slightly. “Just remember this, Fiddler: keep your station, and you’ll get to keep your fingers. Understood?”

A needle-like chill traveled down through Amber’s gut. He didn’t pull his eyes from the knight. Neither did he nod.

He stepped back. The knight let him go—and any semblance of smile vanished. Amber turned, strode across the room, picked up his lute from off his chair, and hurried around the standing mantel toward a short corridor, praying there would be a door at the end of it that led to something besides a broom cupboard.

   Ele sat on the rug in the corner of the library to one side of a desk, knees hugged to her chest, staring absently at the flames in the broad fireplace across the room. All around her, the tall shadows of the tome-packed library stretched to a darkened ceiling. The crackle of the embers filled the silence. She counted her breaths, drawing in the scent of burning cedar and book-dust, absently running her thumb back and forth against her opposite forearm. She sighed. Her whole ribcage ached.

The door latch off to her left clacked. She sat up.

A quick, heavy sigh rushed through the quiet—hard footsteps intruded, the door squeaked and then clanked shut. Low panting followed, and then…

The person stepped in so that Ele could glimpse him around the desk. He entered the soft light from the hearth…

Tall, dark and warm—hair of twilight and autumn, clothes of a traveler, a lute in his hand. His brow twisted, and his gaze seemed faraway. He heaved another sigh, and raked his hand through his curls.

“So you did have to escape,” she noted.

He jumped, whirling around, his hand slipping on the lute so it gave a disconcerted “twang.” Ele felt herself smiling—though it hurt—and climbed tiredly to her feet.  

“I’m sorry,” she laughed. “It’s just me.”

His startled eyes found her, and he blew out his breath as his frame relaxed.

“You keep scaring me,” he said, recovering a faint grin. “It’s starting to get embarrassing.”

Ele ducked her head and chuckled, slipping around the desk and wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m not trying to,” she promised. “I suppose I’m just too quiet.”

“I’m probably too loud,” he said. “Or…not paying attention.”

“Maybe,” Ele shrugged amiably. She canted her head. “What are you running from?”

“Oh,” he gestured toward the door, and that furrow returned to his forehead. “There’s a knight out there who wants to kill me.”

Ele’s eyebrows went up.

“Kill you? Why?”

“I danced with the princess. And then I tried to get a drink of punch.” He sighed, setting his lute gently on the floor and leaning it against the mantel. “Apparently, I’m not allowed.”

Ele pulled her arms in tighter, then took a quick breath.

“That’s Sir Roderick.”

“Hm. Nice fellow,” Amber muttered.

“You’re afraid of him?” Ele wondered.

“Ha. Well,” Amber shot her a glance and sat down on the rug. “I can’t really count someone who threatens to cut off my fingers as a friend, can I?”

“What?” Ele yelped. “Roderick…Roderick said that?”

“I don’t know if it was Roderick,” Amber said. “I only just got here. I

barely remember the way to my rooms, I don’t know anyone—and I would rather not make any mortal enemies just yet.”

“You know me,” Ele corrected quietly. He looked up at her.

“Just a little,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“I’m…I’m Ele,” she said.

“Oh, well—” Amber sat up and held out his right hand to her. “My name’s Amberian, son of Caspell of Nerrinton. I’m called Amber.”

Ele hesitated, then stepped fully into the firelight and stretched out her right hand. He caught her fingers. His were warm, and soft. Again, he gave her that smile—a smile that had faded in the wake of his mood, but now shone back bright as day.

He held onto her a moment, gazing up at her. She watched the firelight play across all the colors in his eyes.

He let go.

“Nerrinton?” Ele repeated. “That’s very far south, isn’t it? Close to the ocean?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, settling back against the stone of the mantel. “It’s always hot there—it’s wonderful. Big city, busy all the time. My parents are merchants. Well…My father started the business, but then he died and his brother married my mother.”

“Oh,” Ele nodded, cautiously settling down onto her knees a few feet from him. “Have you moved in here all right? To your rooms? How are they?”

“They’re fine,” he assured her, folding his arms and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Much better than any I’ve had before. Someone named…Roger showed me the way. I tried to take your advice and memorize the halls,” he shot her a twinkling glance. “But I know I’ll get lost at least once, especially in the dark.” He shifted toward her. “So, what do you do here? You’re too well-dressed to be a kitchen maid or anything like that. Are you a lady’s maid? You help the queen?”

“When she needs me,” Ele hid a smile.

“No wonder you know everything,” he remarked.

Just outside, a sprightly whistle-and-pipe tune began to play, and the whole hall thudded with a hundred sets of footsteps, in time with the music. Amber groaned.

“I wanted to at least watch the dancing,” he complained. “But now if I show my face that knight will pound it in.”

Ele giggled, and covered her mouth with her hand.

“It isn’t funny at all,” he muttered. She choked on her laughter.

“You’re missing the party too,” Amber noted. “Why?”

“I just…” Ele lowered her hand and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t in the mood. To be around a lot of people.”

“But you like dancing,” he lifted his eyebrows.

“Yes—”

“Then let’s dance.”

Ele mentally staggered.

“What—?”

“Yes, come on,” he said, hopping to his feet. He clapped his hands once, then held them out to her. She stared at him.

“Come on,” he beckoned with his fingers.

“I only know line dances—” Ele protested.

“I’ll show you a dance we did all the time in Nerrinton,” he cut in. “You’ll pick it up right away—promise.”

“I’m…” Ele started, her heart hammering. He just waited, then looked slyly at her sideways and wiggled his fingers. She heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes, and tried not to smile as she got up and grasped his hands.

“All right, this is a quick tune, but we can do it,” he said, setting his stance. “First, it’s three fast steps this way…” He led her thus. “And then three fast steps back. Then we do that again.”

Ele battled to keep up, biting the side of her cheek.

“Then we twirl under,” he went on, and whirled her into a bridge-like spin, and they faced each other again. “Then this way three steps, that way three steps—”

Ele stumbled.

“I’m actually rubbish at dancing.” She caught her balance and blushed. “I can never pick it up—”

“Nonsense, you’re fine,” he said. “All right, the three steps is the pattern, remember that. We do that one way, then the other way, and then something in the middle, repeating. First the under twirl, then the spin, and then we come in and do the three steps a different way.”

“What different way—?”

“Three steps first. Go.” They hopped three steps one way, then three

steps back, and then he spun her around by her hands so the whole room

whirled. She accidentally giggled. He beamed.

“All right, three steps—go!”

They danced one way, then the other—

And he stepped in, slid his right arm around her waist and pulled her

against his chest. Their faces were suddenly inches apart. She looked up at him—she saw flecks of gold in his eyes. Her heart caught—

The next moment, he tugged her into a dizzying spin, and then they danced their six steps that way. Ele couldn’t breathe.

“All right, and then we start over!” Amber said, leaping back and gripping her hands again. “Three steps this way!”

They did this again and again, faster each time, it seemed—and yet, before Ele knew it, here feet were flying. And she was laughing. Laughing so hard she thought she might break a rib. Around and around they spun, across that library rug, rushing by the mantel fire, sending mad shadows flashing upon the faces of the book-covered walls.

Finally, the music burst to its end, like a firecracker, and Ele and Amber collapsed to the floor, panting through their laughter.

“Well…” Amber managed. “I might need a while to recover from that one.”

“A year at least,” Ele answered. Amber fell backward, laughing full-out, pressing both hands to his heart. Ele managed to stay sitting up, her skirt thrown haphazardly across her legs.

“Yes. At least,” Amber said, swiping at his eyes. “Especially with no food in me.”

“What?” Ele asked, brushing her own tears away. “You haven’t eaten?”

“No,” he said. “Not all day.”

“Oh, no,” Ele clambered to her feet, clearing her throat. “That isn’t good—you’ll be ill.”

“Ha, don’t worry about me. This would not be the first time I went a whole day without food.”

“Well, you shouldn’t!” Ele insisted, smoothing her hair. “Not while you live here.” She started toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Amber wondered, propping himself up on his arms.

“I haven’t eaten, either,” she told him. “We’ll have a picnic.”

“Inside?”

“Why not?” she grinned at him. He grinned back. She found the door

in the far corner—far opposite the one Amber had entered—pulled it open

and stuck her head out into the cool, dark corridor.

“Hattie,” she called in a sharp whisper. “Hattie!”

Clattering issued from the end of the hall, a door opened—light spilled out. Then, the plump maid came bustling down the hall toward her, her face pinched with alarm.

“Your Highness?” she hissed back. “What are you doing in the library?”

“Is there any food left?” Ele asked. Hattie came to a stop, and squeezed her fingers together.

“Erm—there is one little roast hen, erm…some little potatoes, some carrots, bread sauce, sweet onions—”

“Oh, good!” Ele cried. “Bring all of that, prepared for two. Along with some water. And some tea as well.”

“Two, miss?” Hattie jumped.

“Yes, the minstrel and I will be eating together in the library.”

Hattie’s mouth pursed so tightly it almost vanished.

“He hasn’t eaten the entirety of the day, and he is near collapse. I thought I would keep him company, seeing that he is a complete stranger here, and lonely for his home. Would you like to join us, Hattie?” Elle invited. “I’m certain you’d like to sit down for a while—you’ve been working so hard. Betsy too, she can come—”

The tension vanished from Hattie’s face.

“No, thank you, ma’am—maybe in a little while…But yes, I’ll get that for you, straightaway!”

“Thank you, Hattie,” Ele said sincerely, and the maid turned and bustled away. Ele shut the door again, swung around and strode back to the fireplace where Amber sat cross-legged. He watched her with narrowed eyes, and a small smile.

“What?” she asked lightly, coming to sit just in front of him, parallel to the fireplace, in the same fashion.    

“You’re more important than I thought,” Amber noted, studying her. “Giving orders to other servants? What are you, the…Mistress of the Robes?”

Ele sighed, smiled a little, then rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m Oralia’s sister.”

She pulled her gaze down to meet his. The mirth faded from Amber’s features. He stared at her.

“Her…elder sister,” Ele added.

“Oh…” Amber’s eyebrows came together. “I…”

Ele waited, not moving.

“I’ve really put my foot in it, haven’t I?” he said.

“What?” Ele said. “What do you mean?”

“I’m…” he shook his head, baffled.

A knock came at the door. He twitched.

“Stay there,” Ele told him. She got up, hurried to the door, and opened it.

“Here you are, miss,” Hattie entered, smiling, carrying a wide tray of steaming food. Betsy, a much younger kitchen maid with frayed blonde hair, entered after her, bearing a tray with the tea and the water.

“Where would you like them?” Hattie asked.

“Just on the floor, there,” Ele pointed. “Like mother and I do when it’s cold out.”

“Yes, miss,” Hattie said, lowering the platter down to the rug with a clatter. Betsy bent and carefully did the same.

“Hattie, Betsy, may I present Amberian, the new court musician,” Ele said, gesturing to him. “Amber, this is Hattie and Betsy. They work in the kitchens. And Hattie is the greatest cook in the realm.”

“Oh, tut, tut,” Hattie waved her off, clearly pleased. “We certainly already know who this young man is.”

“Yes, we heard him singing,” Betsy murmured, her face going red.

“And a lovely voice it is, too,” Hattie declared, tipping toward him. “We are so happy to have you with us, Amberian.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Amber answered brightly. “The pleasure is mine, truly. And thank you for the food.”

“My princess’ command is my delight,” Hattie declared. “Eat quickly! Don’t let it get cold!”

“Thank you, Hattie; Betsy,” Ele dipped her head to them as they scurried out. As soon as the door had shut, Ele sat down with a huff, facing Amber, and took a deep breath of the delicious, rich, steaming scent of the roasted hen and vegetables.

“So, you were saying,” she prompted Amber, snatching up a long fork and a carving knife.

“I was saying,” Amber said. “That…I’ve only been here a day and I’ve danced with two princesses.”

“You’re liked by the royal family,” Ele said, stabbing into the hen and

deftly sawing it in half. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“That knight will kill me,” Amber muttered. “Sir Rodback.”

“Roderick,” Ele shot him a glance.

“Yes, him.”

“Ha,” Ele snorted. “Roderick doesn’t care what I do.”

“He doesn’t? Why not?” Amber asked. She lifted her eyes to his for a moment—he gazed at her softly.

“Here,” she said, pushing half of the hen toward him. “Eat.”

“Is there…another fork?”

“No,” she set the utensils down. “No need.” And she took hold of a greasy piece of meat with her fingers, tore it off, and put it in her mouth.

“Ha. All right,” Amber chuckled, and followed suit.

Together, they ate with their fingers, not bothering to divide the food into separate portions. The hen, as usual with Hattie’s cooking, melted in Ele’s mouth, and the potatoes, carrots and onions had been glazed in honey, and roasted to utter perfection. In between ravenous bites, Ele and Amber talked about dancing, and about his mother’s cooking, which he said nearly rivaled this.

After they had cleaned the plate, Ele poured some water into a bowl and they washed their fingers, and dried them on a towel Hattie had put on the tray. Then, they drank their tea while leaning back against the warm mantel, each of them on one side of it. At last, in a moment of silence, Ele glanced up, and sighed.

“The hall has gone quiet,” she observed.

“Mm,” Amber acknowledged drowsily.

“Are you tired?”

“Mm,” he said again, stretching his legs.

“Come, then,” Ele said, setting her tea down. “I’ll walk you back to your quarters.”

Amber glanced over at her.

“Are you supposed to do that?”

She looked at him.

“Would you rather get lost?”

“No.”

“Thought not,” she said, and got to her feet, her skirts rustling. “Come on. I’ll clean this later.”

Amber groaned and stood up, then gestured to the door.

“Lead the way.”

Together they left the library and wound through the dark, hushed stone hallways, flickering in and out of the moonlight that sneaked in through the occasional window. They turned a corner—

“Watch out for the—”

“Oof!” Amber tripped down the single stair. He lashed out and grabbed her—she grabbed him back.

“—stair,” she finished, gripping his jerkin as he regained his balance.

“Why in the—” he started loudly.

“Ssh!” she giggled. “People are trying to sleep.”

“You need to tell me sooner about the stairs,” he hissed, dusting himself off.

“I tried!” she insisted. “Shh! Come on.” She reached down and grasped his hand. In spite of his loss of footing, his fingers wrapped around hers in instant trust. Her heart warmed. She tugged on him, and together they pattered down the final stretch of corridor.

“All right—this is your room, isn’t it?” Ele gestured to a low door.

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep!”

Amber passed around her and opened the door.

“Thank you for the evening,” he said. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m…I’m glad you’ve come to Tirincashel.”

“So am I!” he agreed. He reached out, his hand blundered into her arm, and he squeezed her fingers. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” she replied. And with that, he ducked inside, and shut the door behind him.   

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/Scales-Fresh-Telling-Beauty-Beast-ebook/dp/B072JTPP3C/ref=pd_sim_351_2/146-6363556-3395043?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B072JTPP3C&pd_rd_r=ab0c3f28-93dd-409c-b443-b38d0d56a0f0&pd_rd_w=VQqvj&pd_rd_wg=BOYjn&pf_rd_p=5abf8658-0b5f-405c-b880-a6d1b558d4ea&pf_rd_r=BW8S2ZGZQ4AV8K2H1GGE&psc=1&refRID=BW8S2ZGZQ4AV8K2H1GGE

[thesourtastelingers-blog]

Something's Off

Title: Something's Off

Trigger Warning(s): Blood and maybe a swear word

Fandom: Off

Pairing: Yandere! The Batter x Reader

Word Count: 2635

You're a fanatic in playing RPG maker games and to this day you sworn to not break your title.

And now you're playing Off. Great.

It's addicting to say the least, you've finished the game three times now, and you're gonna replay again and again until you get sick of it.

You pressed the 'A' button to trigger the yes option to restart the game again since you finished it yet again. You stared at the time in your laptop and it says '2:30am' how long have you been playing? Well you just started at the morning, finished the game at early noon and rinse and repeat, 'til nighttime comes by.

'Why am I playing this at 2:30?' You mentally asked yourself

'Yeah, I'll be starting the game tomorrow. I'll just play Mad Father.'

You clicked away at the 'Off' tab, but it wouldn't close itself.

"Huh? That's weird..." You commented; focusing at the screen infront of you

You desperately tried anything just to make the tab close. You've powered it off but it wouldn't budge, you restarted; doesn't work. After that you just aimlessly stared on the screen.

You're scared yet tired since you thought this must be one of those lame Creepypastas lifted back to life and so they could haunt you.

"Great... I can't do anything." You groaned as you leaned back on your chair; defeat evident all over your face

Then you heard a quiet static and a text box appearing at the game.

'That's weird, I didn't press 'new game' yet.' You cautiously thought

The text box contains The Judge and of course texts. The texts read 'Why must you leave us just to play another pathetic horror game?'

You widened your eyes "How the hell did he know I was about to play Mad Father?" You questioned yourself

You're too tired to continue but you just decided to press on the 'A' button.

'Your puppet is patiently waiting for you. He's excited to meet you again.'

That's cute and creepy since he knows someone is controlling him.

'But... What if I told him you're going to play another game and you'll replace him?'

What? No... You wouldn't replace them.

'I bet that game never had an amazing cat and an amazing merchant.'

'Mad Father doesn't have cats or merchants.' You thought

'You'll forget us, won't you?'

What? Forget them? Well you'll never forget the characters since you played the game three times in one day.

'What am I thinking? Of course you wouldn't! Right?'

This gets creepier after each text box you've read.

'I hope you have fun toying with those char-' The Judge got cut off by your mom harshly closing your laptop

"(Y/n)! Go to sleep you disgraceful teen." Your mother told you

"Fine! Fine! You insolent slut." You muttered the last part

You flopped on your bed and you fake sleep. Your mother fell for it since she exited your room; rudely slamming the door behind her.

Then you heard static yet again but it's louder than the previous one.

You went back to your laptop and you opened the laptop to see The Judge again.

'Well, that was rude...'

'But, I hope for you to have a goodnight's rest (Y/n) or our dear puppeteer.'

Then your laptop completely shuts down.

'How did The Judge know my name?' You asked through your thoughts

You flopped back on your bed again and you closed your eyes; waiting for a dreamless night.

~~~

You woke up not on your bed but on the ground. You see an oh so familiar cat walking his way to you.

"Judge?" You asked as the feline happily purrs

"My oh my dear puppeteer, we didn't know you would visit us after you would abandon us for another game!" The Judge purrs at your leg

"Gahhh! How'd you know my name anyway?" You asked The Judge

"Hohoho~ You're such a naïve person, don't you agree yourself?"

"What do you mean?" You gritted your teeth

The Judge seemingly ignored your question "Your Puppet would be given a certain mission or task and so he needs his Puppeteer to guide him."

You were about to say something but The Batter walks in the conversation

"Now, Batter this is your Puppeteer! Who has been guiding you on your journey. Their name is (Y/n) (L/n)!" The Judge explained to The Batter

The Batter emotionlessly stared at you "You were the one who controlled me, even if I had my own mind. I don't need help from you..." He commented with a monotone voice

"All the regretful endings we've been..." A shadow casted upon The Batter's eyes

"Batter! Don't say that! You still need your Puppeteer nonetheless." The Judge claimed

"I'd like to feel as if I weren't always harshly pulled by strings..." The Batter stared/glared at you

"But you still need th-" "If that's the case, fine. I'll just escape this horrendous world by myself." You cut The Judge off

You walked off to the first puzzle of the game and since you memorized it beforehand, you successfully completed the said puzzle.

The Judge reappears again and he walks up to you.

"You should regret your decision of walking off alone, dear puppeteer." The Judge nuzzles your leg

"I don't care at all. If I die here, then that's good. No one's gonna attend my funeral anyway." You bluntly said

"You'll regret it..." The Judge eerily said as he disappeared

Then a bat appeared. You took the bat as if it were a signal that The Judge gave you a weapon.

You didn't really took his words seriously. You bet The Judge was lying.

But the thing you noticed was that the the spectres looked more gruesome than ever before. The spectres were more off than the first or third time you played the game and the Elsens were the ones who drastically

changed, they were bloodier than usual. The change is really creeping you out.

"This might be an update or a Halloween skin..." You muttered as you walked up to a familiar merchant

"Ah, our puppeteer came to visit us!" Zacharie said as he rummaged to his sack of wonders

"What would you like Mon Amie?" He asked as he pulled out all of his items

"Just three luck tickets." You responded

You noticed Zacharie's mask had a smudge by the side and his mask had a crack on the bottom.

You've been staring quite some time you didn't notice Zacharie was waving the luck tickets and The Batter approaching behind you.

"You're concern about my mask, aren't you (Y/n)?"

What's up with NPCs knowing your name?

"Ah, I'm sorry." You apologized as you took out your credits to pay for the luck tickets

Zacharie snickered "Now, don't be. I've noticed that you're concerned about my mask, it's quite a horrifying story." Zacharie dryly chuckled

And The Batter cleared his throat to get both of your attentions.

"Ah! Amigo! I didn't noticed you were there!" Zacharie greeted the stoic savior as beads of sweat appeared at his face

"What do you need?"

"Abaddon's Meat."

"Huh? We don't sell that." More sweat appeared on Zacharie's face

"You're lying."

"Wait... How did he know that early in the game?" You asked yourself

The Batter raised his bat; supposedly to hit Zacharie

Zacharie just stared at the bat and in the inside he's frowning.

Before The Batter could hit Zacharie you stopped them.

"STOP!!!" You yelled at The Batter and so The Batter lowered his bat

"I'll be going for now, stay safe amigos!" Zacharie quickly disappeared with his items

Well, you saved Zacharie from The Batter.

"Why were you about to smash Zacharie with your bat?" You cautiously asked The Batter

"Just for you..." The Batter responded as he walked away from you

"HEY! YOU IGNORED ME!" You shouted but The Batter wouldn't turn his back

You sighed as you continued your merry way to get out of this world.

You noticed this world really took a dark and sharp turn. The spectres are weaker but looks more creepier or gruesome, it's creeping the shit out of you. You really wanna go home.

Welp, you did noticed something Zone 1 and that is when you were about to face Dedan, apparently he was already purified but here's the catch, blood was dripping allover the floor. You did assume The Batter already purified him but why blood oozing allover the floor?

~~~

While you were in Zone 2, the Judge kept asking you where is Valerie and since you've already played the game you knew Valerie was controlled by Japhet. You felt pity and sorrow to the poor feline at his brother's death. You knew The Batter purified Japhet before you.

~~~

Finally you're in Zone 3, the sugar factory or where Elsens resides. You encountered The Batter, again, but this time he got smudged with blood.

Now, you're ready to face Enoch. While you were about to enter the room where Enoch is at, you saw The Batter repeatedly smash his bat towards Enoch, and he has no time to react as blood kept oozing out of his head.

'Is that his 1st or 2nd battle?' You mentally asked yourself as you hid away from their sights

The Batter purified Enoch and then he walked out of the room and he might've noticed you considering he has four eyes.

Everything really gets creepier and stranger all of a sudden.

What you first noticed is that Zacharie is more and more beaten, when you asked about it his excuse is always "It's a lengthy story, (Y/n)." And you're just too concern for his well-being. You asked him if he could just use his healing items but he always responds with "No mi amigo! You can't fathom what merchant would use their own items for their own good? And so it's purpose is to sell!" You're really, really concerned.

Now that Valerie was dead The Judge holds a straight face and is more mesmerizing than usual. The Judge would often blame you for not controlling your puppet, but in reality Valerie just ate Japhet and he grew into an absurd size deeming Japhet as a parasite.

Hugo and The Queen are also dead, which quite struck you the most. You can't do anything about it, but what you noticed while you were in the room, The Queen presumably left a letter for you and it read:

'You're such a peculiar entity in this world our dear player, I have mistaken you in your past playthroughs with The Batter. Oh, and The Batter is a fool at games, he's the one who obstructed the world. Now it was never your fault for killing me in the past, it was the fool's fault. I have laid a curse for the fool, for he was busy doing his "sacred" mission. I may rest peacefully for I have forsaken you our dear player.'

Now that note pulled your heart strings. A stoic man like The Batter couldn't even care for his own family!

And you see another note in the same room and the note read:

'FiNdiNg yOu, deaR plAyer...'

Oh, and it's smudged with blood. Who could've wrote this note?

The first letter pulled your heart strings, while the second one sorta killed the mood and it's creeping you out more than expected.

~~~

And now, you're at the very final stretch of the game, where The Batter would turn off the switch or he would change his mind, but you're the one who does decisions. Without The Batter in your strings there's no doubt he would not turn off the switch.

The Judge followed you and both of you saw The Batter about to turn off the switch and he is bloodier than the previous times you've encountered him. You unexpectedly used your strings to get ahold of The Batter.

"Puppeteer, would you fight alongside with me? Or go on ahead and make The Batter turn off the switch?" The Judge sternly gave you two decisions

You looked back at The Judge and you carefully thought out the situation

"I would like to fight alongside with you." You looked at The Judge straight in the eye

And then The Batter ultimately change to his Bad Batter form.

The Judge called out to his other friends to fight alongside Bad Batter.

But... Bad Batter easily crushed all of them, except for you.

"What are you gonna do you monster?! You've killed your wife even your son! Go ahead and turn off the switch you selfish person!" You said as blood dripped from your mouth

And then for some reason Zacharie appeared and he held an Abaddon's meat.

"Amigo!" He weakly called out as he threw the Abaddon's meat with all his might towards you

But Bad Batter slapped the meat before you could take it and he knocked back Zacharie ultimately letting Zacharie bleed to death.

"Z-zacharie!" You weakly shouted as tears flowed down your face

You pathetically laid down at the ground and Bad Batter stared at you.

[eminentconscript-blog]

MEINIR: =After the one Strider kid's announcement about Orphus' whereabouts had reached her ears, it had taken no time at all questioning the locals and figuring out just where it was he happened to be hiding his cowardly flesh sack. Meinir and two of her crew had broken in through the loft window of Dennab's house when they were sure no one was there. It was a simple thing of combined climbs and jumps, and a few deft moments with a lockpick. The three of them sneaking inside and closing the window back up behind them, leaving no trace of their activities. Now Meinir was sitting square in the room, filing her nails with impatient flicks of her tail. The two ladies from her crew standing on either side of the door, back to the wall to keep out of Orphus' field of vision once he were to enter. The stage is set. The yellow bellied little brother will be caught once and for all.=

ORPHUS: -It was later in the day when he returned to Dennab's house. By now his friend had given him a key so it was easy enough to get in and out when he wasn't there, after all Dennab was usually gone and busy by this point. He had left in the middle of the night the day before to go see Taalay on skaia, and it went as well as expected possibly even better considering he was still in the same number of pieces as he was before he left. At this point he was just exhausted from the interaction and he slowly made his way to the guest room where he had been staying the last several weeks.-  ORPHUS: -He's hardly paying attention, rubbing at his tired eyes before removing his hood and opening the door. He gets about two steps into the room before he realizes he's not alone and his eyes fly open to settle on his sister sitting right there in front of him.- ................................... ORPHUS: -Hes so fucked, holy shit. His stomach starts churning and his chest feels tight with anxiety and he hasn't even seen the other two ladies behind him. Is it too late to quickly back out and retreat through the door way, he sure as hell is going to try anyways.-

MEINIR: =She doesn't lift her gaze as the door opens, blue eyes trained on her claws. Blowing on them and looking them over. It sure as hell is too late for Orphus to back out, because the large teal standing behind the door slammed it shut the moment he had stepped inside enough and placed herself in front of it. The psionic looming just in the corner of his vision, energy crackling between her horns. Meinir points at him with her nail file.= |)earest, sweetest little brother. How nice to see that you are still among the living.  MEINIR: \V/hy don't you take a seat? =There's a chair placed right opposite her. How convenient.=

ORPHUS: -Orphus's attention darts between the fellow teal blood and the psionic. This is a very less then ideal situation and there is no possible way for him to escape while surrounded like this.- ORPHUS: -His pulse is racing and he slowly drags his gaze back to his sister and swallows dryly.- Meinir...  ORPHUS: This.  ORPHUS: This is a <ivilian residen<e you should not be trespassing here. -He is not going to sit.-

MEINIR: =Looks up at him, legs crossed and tapping her file slowly against her knee. She's smiling, but everything about her is oozing agitation, like she is ready to leap at him at any moment.= | don't believe you are in any position to start lecturing me about, why, just about anything really! I'm honestly shocked you have the fuckin' nerve to try it right out the gate.  MEINIR: =Gestures to the psion with her file, then at Orphus, then at the chair.= /|/ow. Sit.  MEINIR: =Orphus will find himself surrounded with psionic energy, and will now be attempted lifted and snapped down onto the chair.=

ORPHUS: I am not trying to le<ture you I am telling you that you shouldnt be-- -He really has no way to fight off the psionics surrounding him and moving his body, struggle as he may hes lifted and then dropped into the chair. Of course the moment he is in it he is going to attempt to jump right back up. This is all very stressful for him.- This is redi<ulous!! <ease this!  ORPHUS: -Its hard to tell with the baggy sweatshirt on, but perhaps now that they are closer face to face Meinir might be able to see it in his face how he's lost more weight since they last saw each other.-

MEINIR: =Sorry Orphus, but the psion is definitely going to keep pressure on his shoulders to prevent him from jumping back up, and around his ankles to keep him "chained" to the chair. His commentary makes Meinir laugh, a big booming one, her head falling backwards. Her gaze firm and burning once she stops, pupils only tiny slits.= |Y|ou really have some gall to start making demands from me! I shall cease nothing! Maybe if you had kept your promise I would have given you a more gentle escort back to daddy, but we both very well know there's not a chance in hell of that happening now.  MEINIR: /|\aybe that's why you're squatting up in this shithole, huh? Too afraid of "big bad Meinir" coming to haul you back to face the goddamn music? You really had me with that story y'know! About how this was something you needed, and that you would really, really, keep in touch and let me know that you were still kicking.  MEINIR: \V/HAT A FUCKIN' JOKE!!!

ORPHUS: -His eyes go wide when she says her intentions of carting him back to their father, no, hes not ready for that he can't face his dad yet thats too much. His fear is momentarily forgotten though when she dares to insult his friend's dwelling.-  ORPHUS: It is not a shithole!! -He snarls in response, teeth bared and his volatile reaction a little over played but his entire system is on high alert, any reaction at all is going to be extreme.-

MEINIR: =Snorts.= |>lease. This entire planet smells of animal shit and mud. At least it is an upgrade from LOTAM, seein' as there ain't as many zealots high on fairydust fumes laying around in the street. MEINIR: |T|o think you'd rather spend your time in these hovels than go back home-- \V/hat are you so afraid of anyway? That you failed like, what, once? You're acting as if honor and pride is all that matters!  MEINIR: §o tell me then! \V/hat could you possibly hope to gain from squatting on one planet to the next, wallowing in your own self pity? Like. REALLY? How is THAT going to fix your wounded pride?

ORPHUS: -Growls.- I am aware it wont do anything to fix it. But it is my <hoi<e to live as I please. But tell me what do I even have to go ba<k to?? Even if I were to pro<ure a repla<ement limb who is to say I will ever regain the same use and skills that I had. And more importantly what do I have left with his <rew after I all but formally burned the bridge by abandoning them all in the first pla<e to fool heartily feed my own ego and ambitions by serving with another?? ORPHUS: I have embarrassed myself and my family name with my a<tions. Even if I had the smallest <han<e of rea<hing su<ess at home I've forever ruined it with my past a<tions. ORPHUS: I dont want to fa<e that.... ORPHUS: .......But I told you all of this the first time we met. You released me then, so you had to have some semblan<e of understanding.

MEINIR: ()h!!! Yes! I certainly did! I bought into all of this shit, hoping that you'd find your way and be honest to yourself and your fuckin' family! But WHOOPS!!! MEINIR: |3IG SURPRISE! Orphus is nothing but a COWARD. MEINIR: |Y|ou're not trying to fix anything, you're just running away. You don't even give your family the kindness to let them know you're alive. =Her knuckles are going white around the nailfile, and for a moment her expression twists, brows furrowing as her mouth twitches downwards. A split moment of something stinging at her eyes, a grief that she swallows down, her shoulders now squared.= | kept my promise you know. I did! Because FUCK ME if I didn't always believe you to be honest. I kept my bleedin' mouth shut the whole time, even as I saw how daddy was shutting down more for each day gone without a word!  MEINIR: |Y|ou're a fucking coward Orphus, one that cares more about your own ego than your family.  MEINIR: |)o you honestly think I-- that daddy or Taalay or any of us, are trying to haul you back to force you into somethin' you don't wanna do? To immediately force you back into something that cost you your arm? That's left you looking like-- Like you're not even yourself!  MEINIR: /|/obody GIVES A SHIT about what you did. We all just wanted to know that you were safe! That you're alive and that we would see you again! GOD!!! =She laughs, almost pathetically, looking down into her lap while the muscles in her arms tense.=  MEINIR: |)addy's crew kept muttering about holding a funeral, did you know that?

ORPHUS: -He is quiet over the duration of her short speech. In part because he knows she is absolutely right. He is a damn coward, a fool, a troll too full of himself that it blinded him until the consequences grew too large to come back from.- ORPHUS: -He's dropped his gaze to the floor, fighting back the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the pathetic way his eyes sting as teal colored tears hang at the very edges. It hurts even more to hear about his father, and the pain the rest of his family was put through because of his reckless actions. It had taken him months to understand he wasnt just hurting himself by running away but everyone else suffered for it too. But what could he even do to fix it now?- ORPHUS: .....No. I did not know that. -He sniffs.-

MEINIR: =It's probably a little awkward for the two other trolls in the room witnessing all of this, but they know to keep both their ears and mouths shut. Meinir's grip on the file eases, letting her fists loosen up on her knees. Taking a breath to steady herself.=  MEINIR: |'m taking you back Orphus, whether you like it or not. I'm not going to lie for you anymore, I can't do it. I can lie about a lot of things, more and better than most, but I'm not going to fuckin' play along with this shit anymore. I'm not gonna help you hurt our family, I can't do it.  MEINIR: |Y|ou're going to gather what little of your spine you have left, and you will see daddy, and you'll apologize for dropping off of the fuckin' starcharts. Just as I will for not telling him the truth about you.

ORPHUS: -He doesnt lift his head, he's not even straining against the psionic bonds anymore.-  ORPHUS: M-Meinir please.... dont.  ORPHUS: I-I cant f...fa<e him. -Fuck tears are starting to drip down his face. Orphus shuts his eyes tight to try to stop himself from full out crying but its too late.-

MEINIR: =Honestly, even angry as she is, it hurts seeing him cry. It hurts seeing him cry, hurts seeing him like this, and it hurts knowing that she fed into it when she could have just told everyone the truth. She wants to pinch his cheeks, hug him and say that it's okay! Stop the sniffling and let your sister take care of it! But she can't let herself do it. Keep hurting them all for the sake of a lie. Her voice is almost flat.= |f not now, then when? MEINIR:  /-\fter he's destroyed your mother's ships in his grieving fury? After he's held the funeral for his firstborn? All while I watch, knowing that you're alive, but sworn on my word to keep it secret while our family burns? I gave you time with the lie, Orphus, time that I hoped you'd use to build yourself back up. You can't ask me to give you more. Not this time.

ORPHUS: -He is a mess of snot and tears, its really pitiful to look at and Orphus would give anything to not appear so vulnerable in front of the other two trolls, its quite embarrassing. He didn't mean for things to get this way, for everything to go so far. But every time he thought about facing his problems it felt like the end of the world and so he grew comfortable pretending like he could just brush off his old life and live in the shadows without consequences. It was stupid of him to think he could have ever slowly acclimated to interacting with his family and loved ones again, especially after Joel broadcasted his whereabouts.-  ORPHUS: Im s-sorry I shouldn't have broken your promise I just-- ORPHUS: I didnt mean t-to hurt anyone else...

MEINIR: =She can't bring herself to cry, even if she feels like doing it alongside him. She doesn't really have any right to, having done what she did, or so she feels anyhow. Wearing masks is what she does, and now she is donning one to keep her eyes from watering. Her breathing is steady, her focus on every even inhale and exhale, a form of meditation to place her focus on that rather than her feelings. So she could say her words without emotions muddling them up. She straightens her back, looking right ahead at him.= | know. MEINIR: |'m not going to pretend you didn't truly have a horrible time, that this experience and your feelings are all invalid, but I still think you a coward for running away without a word for so long. This isn't helping you. The longer you run away, isolate yourself, pretend you're dead.... The worse you're just making it for yourself. If I'm not stopping it now, a hard stop, then I don't honestly think you'll ever stop running. =She stands up from her chair.= MEINIR: |Y|ou can hate me if you'd like, but we are going. =Not like he didn't hate her before though, hah...=

ORPHUS: -Hate is a strong word, but he will not correct her. Its not as though his actions or the way he has behaved towards her in their past would prove otherwise. And Meinir has a small point, even now Orphus still wanted to run and hide (perhaps it had something to do with the feeling of being currently trapped against his will but even so) could he ever trust himself to voluntarily go through with returning home? Possibly not...- ORPHUS: -Still, that did not mean he was thrilled about being delivered straight to his father, and while he had nothing more to say he slowly dried his tears gave one last ditched effort at trying to pull free of the invisible restraints holding him into the chair.-

MEINIR: =Having nothing more to say, and Orphus apparently having no words left either, Meinir gives a quick nod in direction of the psion. The yellowblood swiftly applies a sharp jabbing jolt against Orphus' pressure points, not enough to permanently damage, but certainly enough to make him pass out and slouch like a sack of potatoes. Perfect for transport. The teal hoists him over her shoulder, Meinir watching with an expression more blatantly sad and tired than any that had come before. She shakes it off with a sigh.=/-\islin, search the room for belongings and the like. We are taking it, and him, and we are leaving.  MEINIR: =The psion, Aislin, nods, making short process of searching the room with their psionics. Meinir, in the meantime, writes a note which she attatches to the chair via dagger. Polite enough to leave behind an explaination, as the room is left abandoned. The Wave Dancer leaves port only minutes after their boarding.=