WAR: Neverlin's Terms
Ramblings in a Poitainian Spring
I like Tinabula. Power there, and strength behind the smile and occasional giggliness. Perceptive also.
Why pray here rather than the Temple at Fort Conviction?
I looked about the Chapel in Caenna, its old familiarity, the scent of incense still flavoured with Baione flowers as it was when my mother prepared it, for I follow the same recipe.... Safety here, calmness. A place that has always been. For much as I strive to build Invicta's new home strong, there is a nagging fear that perhaps it will go the way of Fort Invicta
Preparing the Feast
After a strong-minded barbarian, reading strange texts in the dark. To fulfil what is set before me.
Cold, bleak...the frosting drips from the cloth as my breath warms it just enough...blinding me. Tear off the enfolding troubling veil.
Plunged deep under, can Not breathe! Panic! No, trust!
Cold, so cold. Hot, so warm...so enfolding.
Sparks, light, torch. It cannot be! He can not be here!
Caw! Kraw! Krawr!
So much to do, so many invitations, so many preparations... Food, exotic and plain, for each guest. Needed, as my love ordered. Silks, satins, wines... so much to do!
War: Family Reunion, Part I
Continued from:
WAR: Neverlin's Terms. http://aoc.rp-haven.com/story/neverlin/war_neverlin039_s_terms
and
WAR: Grave Digging: http://aoc.rp-haven.com/story/neverlin/war_grave_digging
Neverlin seldom asked favors....
Wardawn reflected as she tethered *Beauty, her majestic warhorse to a palm. As her strong hands carefully looped the reins around the trunk, she pondered why the strange tree leaned at an awkward angle so close to the ground. She surmised the palm probably blew over during a dust storm while young, continuing to grow outward in an elegant arch thereafter. Why did she choose this strange tree from among a crowd of perfectly normal appearing ones? Perhaps she just fancied the oddities of life, oddities like her friend Neverlin. Giving the rope a final tug and letting out a satisfied sigh, Dawn cleared her mind of the peculiar thoughts.
The Knight and the Many-Haired Maiden
Long ago and far away there was a golden-haired princess and a raven-haired princess. And they had many adventures together. And when they adventured together their tales always started thus, “Once upon a time in a land filled with peace…..”
But this is the tale of when the raven-haired princess thought her hair was brown. And of the Knight who rescued her. And of the Wizard who wove the path through the mist for them both back to reality.
Daughter of the Old Serpent
“…..The Daughter of the Old Serpent……”
No, too obvious he thought.
WAR comes to Kemena, part 2
The man strides angrily past the many guards of the sweltering compound into a burnt-red chamber of the fortress half as old as time. It is time for her to be given another dose but right now he needs her awake and at least partly able to talk. He lifts the slight body of the young woman in blue, growling into her face as her fugged mind and eyes try to focus on his mohawk.
I have something I need you to do woman.
Blinking and mumbling, the only clear words she gets out are Rel.
Oh, you're about to talk to him, my dear. He slaps her hard across the face. Dagger point under her chin to quell her struggles.
-sharp-
