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08-31-2014, 12:58 PM
take a look in the mirror - see the truth in your face Why was it always this way, after long distances and many moons between two familiar souls? Even when there were hurts and resentments beneath the old love, the light banter and easy cadence of the friendship always seemed to win out, at least at first; in time, the sweetness of the reunion would sour, and with it the peace they felt now as they walked beneath the burning awnings of the bedding trees would spiral away – words would come to pass over the Empress, perhaps even more jabs at the plans that Illynx had placed in action. It may come to be that Giselle would try to take what her sister had abandoned, the golden one be damned; she surely hoped it was not so. It would make her heart weep to have to extinguish such a splendid light. For now, it seems the ideas that have found purchase in the Lady’s schemes have also found foothold in Giselle’s, the golden wench glancing over to find questions on the woman’s face, not resentment, as had first bloomed when the notion of peace was mentioned. It was always so with those of their dark coven; she had expected as much when the idea had first struck her, and had faced opposition several times in her path to glory from those who sought to tarnish the beautiful perfection of the plan with their brash violence, unable to be much more than the beasts they were allegedly intent on destroying. Illynx was not a beast, at least not a mindless, savage one; she was calculating, thoughtful, and ruthless. Her power had been earned through pretending to love the right people, obeying the proper commands, and seizing each opportunity that flashed silver and promising before her; their war could be won in the same way. She asks of the Regime, and Illynx obliges with what she knows. "It is a band of blended blood, led by Confutatis and another of dark coloration with a green dragon," she explains, disgruntled that they know so little and that the whore of a mare has prodded at her pride one too many times for her liking, "and are believed to reside in the region around the Rotunda, in the south near the blasphemed marshes." Thankfully, the conversation continues on her former notes, the Lady sinking into the cheerful banter of the striped woman alongside her, a smile lingering across her face though no words find the air in reply. It is just as well, for she has more questions and even more chatter – a reminder that Giselle is the younger of the siblings, not so darkened and battered by life as her darling Empress or the foolish Paladin. "One day, we will all sing of roses and conquest, my sweet Giselle," she finally says with a smile, her eyes fluttering in lust for the imagined moment when her people, the true owners of the earth, rose to their proper position of power, "one day." She breathes deep the Orangemoon air, crisp and tinged with the faint memory of summer’s cinnamon warmth. "We number just over forty, with around half of the ranks boasting companion or magic," she smiles with pride and glances over at her friend to reveal the way her golden eyes dance and flicker with excitement at the notion that their numbers are so strong, loosing some of their glimmer as she continues with the negative opposing her glorious achievements, "but World’s Edge is nearly as populated, and the reborn Falls are no small number, either. I know little of the Throat – northmen are resentful of the heat and perhaps have not forgotten that our former Lady’s crown lies in those shifting sands, and it would take me too long from the mountain for my comfort to venture so far myself." |
