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12-25-2015, 09:48 AM
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
[ The thread where Neo actually switched tables several times. :o ]
Of course, he could never hide from her. It would've been stupid to think it—stupid to even hope it, wish it, and likely, the intensity of his desire to remain unnoticed screamed louder than a siren in her mind. She could probably hear his thoughts, the whispers of denial, the way he wished for her to not look his way. What kind of predator would she be, if she could not pick out the weakest in a group? What kind of murderer would she be, if she was not merciless enough to act upon it?
But he had hoped for mercy.
And he would get none.
I would speak with you. After all ... this. It was a mind-voice he had rarely heard before, if ever—sickeningly reminiscent of Irma's, but where hers was harsh and simply cold, this one was sweet, honey lacquer hiding the taste of poison. A shiver trailed down his spine, a rattle shook his darkness: the owls were staring at her. She hadn't looked their way.
And yet, she had known he was there. "Oh gods," he groaned into Naerys' poll, her hair smothering most of his voice. Was this her wicked way of playing cat-and-mouse with him? Or did she genuinely want something from him? But what? For his words to climb dangerously close to treachery, so that she could smite him, and force him, too, from his place in this realm? He was tired of being afraid, but he feared her, because she had the keys to the dark chasm of his grief—and he did not trust her not to pull every ounce of pain she could from it. The last thing he wanted to feel again was his heart being torn out.
But aside from that sickly sweet promise, she was content to ignore him, her attention pulled by Torleik and his attempts to simultaneously defend himself and leave a few remarks for them to remember, and the few other voices that chimed in. And Mauja, he wasn't at all sure what was going on; why was he so upset? Why as he blaming them? Why was he trying to crush their futures, for choosing to remain beneath this hellhound of a deity? Mauja had not returned to the Edge out of a love for her, no; he would gladly live away from her wicked influence and sinister schemes. He always returned to the Edge for what it was to him—home. The fog, the evergreens, the white cliffs and their dead-drop into the sea.. that was home to him. He did not share it now with those he had shared it with before. Things changed, but the land still remained his sanctuary.
"Torleik..." he whispered, eyelids blinking to clear his blue eyes of tears, and his head came up slightly to watch the black stallion as he, rather peacefully, raged. He called it a coup, and the all too familiar feeling of something's wrong, what is he talking about, what have I missed bubbled up along with a cold, dread weight in his belly. A coup? Had there been one? And his gaze switched to Tembovu, who watched so stonily, so coldly (—and he feared that, too).
Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps he had been wrong about everything.
And then, Torleik left, followed by the soft sigh of his fallen white queen. He asked for discussion and debate, yet left them to trade their words without him—he asked for discussion and debate, but if he had been missing, how were they supposed to have found him? Unsure of what had happened, of who had dethroned who and why, Mauja closed his eyes again. Tembovu called the meeting to a close, which did nothing for the pit of vipers crawling in his gut. After all, he had not known Tembovu for long—Mauja had seen the shadows in his eyes when he had burned him, but knew not from where they came. He had come out of the ashes of an empire, out of a place in ruins.. but what had ruined it?
You know it isn't easy, he told himself, trying to justify the hardness he had seen in the large stallion's eyes. To lead. To guide. To stand there and make the difficult decisions and bear the weight of your actions and their consequences. It isn't easy.
Mauja's sad eyes slipped open again, trailing through the gathering to the Moon Goddess. Is .. this .. over now? he thought into the silent ether between them.
Of course, he could never hide from her. It would've been stupid to think it—stupid to even hope it, wish it, and likely, the intensity of his desire to remain unnoticed screamed louder than a siren in her mind. She could probably hear his thoughts, the whispers of denial, the way he wished for her to not look his way. What kind of predator would she be, if she could not pick out the weakest in a group? What kind of murderer would she be, if she was not merciless enough to act upon it?
But he had hoped for mercy.
And he would get none.
I would speak with you. After all ... this. It was a mind-voice he had rarely heard before, if ever—sickeningly reminiscent of Irma's, but where hers was harsh and simply cold, this one was sweet, honey lacquer hiding the taste of poison. A shiver trailed down his spine, a rattle shook his darkness: the owls were staring at her. She hadn't looked their way.
And yet, she had known he was there. "Oh gods," he groaned into Naerys' poll, her hair smothering most of his voice. Was this her wicked way of playing cat-and-mouse with him? Or did she genuinely want something from him? But what? For his words to climb dangerously close to treachery, so that she could smite him, and force him, too, from his place in this realm? He was tired of being afraid, but he feared her, because she had the keys to the dark chasm of his grief—and he did not trust her not to pull every ounce of pain she could from it. The last thing he wanted to feel again was his heart being torn out.
But aside from that sickly sweet promise, she was content to ignore him, her attention pulled by Torleik and his attempts to simultaneously defend himself and leave a few remarks for them to remember, and the few other voices that chimed in. And Mauja, he wasn't at all sure what was going on; why was he so upset? Why as he blaming them? Why was he trying to crush their futures, for choosing to remain beneath this hellhound of a deity? Mauja had not returned to the Edge out of a love for her, no; he would gladly live away from her wicked influence and sinister schemes. He always returned to the Edge for what it was to him—home. The fog, the evergreens, the white cliffs and their dead-drop into the sea.. that was home to him. He did not share it now with those he had shared it with before. Things changed, but the land still remained his sanctuary.
"Torleik..." he whispered, eyelids blinking to clear his blue eyes of tears, and his head came up slightly to watch the black stallion as he, rather peacefully, raged. He called it a coup, and the all too familiar feeling of something's wrong, what is he talking about, what have I missed bubbled up along with a cold, dread weight in his belly. A coup? Had there been one? And his gaze switched to Tembovu, who watched so stonily, so coldly (—and he feared that, too).
Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps he had been wrong about everything.
And then, Torleik left, followed by the soft sigh of his fallen white queen. He asked for discussion and debate, yet left them to trade their words without him—he asked for discussion and debate, but if he had been missing, how were they supposed to have found him? Unsure of what had happened, of who had dethroned who and why, Mauja closed his eyes again. Tembovu called the meeting to a close, which did nothing for the pit of vipers crawling in his gut. After all, he had not known Tembovu for long—Mauja had seen the shadows in his eyes when he had burned him, but knew not from where they came. He had come out of the ashes of an empire, out of a place in ruins.. but what had ruined it?
You know it isn't easy, he told himself, trying to justify the hardness he had seen in the large stallion's eyes. To lead. To guide. To stand there and make the difficult decisions and bear the weight of your actions and their consequences. It isn't easy.
Mauja's sad eyes slipped open again, trailing through the gathering to the Moon Goddess. Is .. this .. over now? he thought into the silent ether between them.
Mauja
the white queen
