Even in Death (Edalene)

by **Mycroft** on June 13th, 2011, 9:05 am

Damie Sunblaze slowly lifted his head at the sound of Edalene's voice. Instead of looking pleased to see her, her father wore a scowl, his lip almost curling, even. The disgruntled Ankal silently watched the exchange between Yartree and Edalene, then laid his head back down, entirely disinterested. He continued ignoring the two until his daughter walked up to him and took his hand. This caused Damie to turn his head to look at her again - seeing the shock in her face at the feel of his cooled flesh.

But Damie said nothing. His eyes were dead, void of emotion - not angry, or smug, or confused. He simply continued to look at her as if she were wasting his time. In all actuality, she was.

Nearby, the satchel had been opened. One of the vials inside was now empty. Yartree did not know what happened to it. He'd been ordered to stay put in the healing pavilion with Damie. For a moment, Yartree had been asked to leave and wait outside. He thought perhaps his Ankal needed a moment to relieve himself, but it barely looked as if Damie had moved at all. The vial, he saw, had been emptied, but he didn't know what happened to it. Some sort of medicine, perhaps?

Then she asked her question, and Damie's eyes looked down at the broadsword. Oh, he recognized the nature of that question. He recognized it very well.

"What kind of question is that?" Yartree demanded incredulously from behind Edalene, not content to stay quiet. He'd been snubbed, after all. "Your father is lying there sick and you just want to interrogate him? What the petch is wrong with you, Eda?"

Damie glanced at Yartree briefly before turning his eyes back to Edalene. He tilted his head thoughtfully, gazing into her eyes. The smile that snaked onto his face probably made her blood run cold. "Oh, Edalene," he opened, a mocking tone unbefitting her father defiling his voice. "That question sounds so familiar. In my life, I've heard that same question worded in so many different ways. I know what you're doing." Damie's hand slid out of hers, and his smile fell into a scowl. He rested his head back down. "Tarrow isn't doing his job."

In that moment, a new figure moved into the small healing tent, pushing past the flap. "What's going on here? Is something wrong?" It was Thetch, from the Watch. It seemed odd he'd come in at this time. And, for a moment, Thetch and Damie caught eyes. As they stared at each other, an unspoken message was passed between them. Likely enough, Edalene would be privy to it as well. But what could she do? Thetch's sword was conspicuous at his side, and he was blocking the exit.

OOCControl Yartree here to make him do whatever you think he'd do.

by **Edalene** on June 14th, 2011, 6:36 am

"Shut the petch UP, Yartree!" she snapped, without even looking at him. Her gaze was still intense and searching, focused on Damie Sunblaze, who seemed to be blank and not have a single emotion at seeing his distraught teenage daughter. The expression on his face as he contemplated his daughter solidified everything for her in an instant.

This was not her father.

But before Damie could speak, before his dead eyes could focus on her, and his lips curl into a cruel sneer, Yartree stood again and began to speak. "No, what the petch, Eda? Do you have no petching sense of decency?" he hissed, standing up and tugging on her shoulder. He towered over her, looking imposing. Despite the moment of kindness before she had set out to find Damie, they had quickly settled back into their old pattern of disdain and snubs. "This is Damie, your father, lying ill, and you're talking about a sword. Real smooth, Edalene, dearest." He sent a smirk in her direction. Eda had been watching Damie surreptitiously out the corner of her eye but Yartree now took up her attention. She hardly ever won against Yartree's arguments, but she was determined to do so. The argument seemed very out of place all of a sudden.

Before she could answer his question, spit out a reply with a fiery determination, Damie's voice interrupted them. It was not the tone she had known every day of her life. Damie's voice was cold, mocking, condescending, and everything she had been afraid her entire life of, that her father would one day speak to her as he did now. It was very little comfort at all that she knew it wasn't her father. Turning slowly, she looked into Damie's cold eyes, and stumbled back into Yartree's chest at the chill in his expression, flinching uncomfortably. Automatically, Yartree put a hand on her shoulder, as if protecting her, though he too watched disbelievingly. He had no concept of what was going on, but Eda was filled with dreadful knowledge. Eda stuttered, trying to think of a response, but instead she began to push on Yartree's back, trying to get him to step backwards, murmuring quietly to him as she did. "We need to go, Yartree, NOW." There was such an uncommon urgency in her voice that Yartree did not question her, but nor did he move. He simply looked confused.

Just as she contemplated running, dragging the useless oaf Yartree behind, another person entered the tent. She turned, hoping to see a healer, but her heart sunk as she saw Thetch - for she knew it wasn't Thetch. She had no indication, but the long, significant stare that passed between Thetch and Damie was enough to know that Tarrow was in there. She stared at him, angry, upset that Tarrow could still serve Stheno in this way, but Yartree began to speak instead, good friends with Thetch as he was. "Thetch!" Yartree, called, happy to see the young man, but clearly still confused as to what was going on. Thetch to him was a serve of normality, something he could hold onto while Eda and Damie acted strangely. "Nothing's wrong, though Eda seems to have confused Damie for someone else." He nudged her slightly, trying to gain the higher status again. Confusion did not look well on a manly man like he. Eda could only continue to stare longingly and fearfully at Tarrow, knowing that his presence could mean nothing good.

by **Mycroft** on June 14th, 2011, 10:39 am

"Is she now?" Thetch stepped further into the healing tent, his eyes drifting off Damie and settling on Yartree. His expression didn't change. The Sunblazes never knew Thetch all that well, so judging his character was a different matter than Damie's odd behavior. From his Ankal's odd answer, however, even Yartree had picked up that something was amiss. It was confirmed by the look in Thetch's eyes. They were as empty and cold as Damie's. This wasn't the Tarrow that Edalene knew. This was the Nuit's bondmate, protecting his master. "I'm sure she's just confused. She has been through a lot the past few days. You have too. Perhaps you should all get some rest."

Yartree grimaced momentarily, but swallowed his confusion. Perhaps as an attempt to return to normalcy, he turned to Edalene and forced a sneer at her. "See? You're making a fuss over nothing. Why don't you take your sword questions back home and let the Ankal breathe for a moment?"

A strange, grim smile appeared on Damie's face. Before, he'd seemed entirely disinterested in the quarrel between the two cousins. He wasn't even looking at them. Lying on his back atop the pile of hides, he stared off at the tent wall, pale as ever. Then, without looking at them, he opened his mouth to speak words that would even alert Yartree. "Listen to your brother, Edalene."

Yartree's eyes widened as he stared down in shock at the Ankal. Tarrow watched the event play out, having seen all this before. Yes, now he finally put it together, didn't he? "Ankal... I-I'm not—" In a rush of movement, the pommel of Thetch's freshly drawn sword connected with the back of Yartree's head. The boy groaned and clutched at the new bloody patch at the base of his skull, slowly sinking to the floor. As he rolled on his side, he gradually lost consciousness. Yartree still breathed. He wasn't dead, yet.

Taking advantage of Edalene's understandable shock, Thetch grabbed the majority of Edalene's hair from behind and yanked her back against him. Holding her still with her locks in his fist, he gently laid the cold metal blade of Thetch's sword against her throat.

Damie finally turned his head, looking over Edalene, and then making eyes with Thetch. "You petched this one up, Tarrow. It would have gone much more smoothly had you kept the girl distracted."

Thetch's hand holding on Edalene's hair twitched as Stheno seemed to strike a nerve. No, Edalene. Don't believe it. Everything we shared... it was genuine. "Do you know that this pavilion includes only three people, Stheno? If you take the boy's body, you'll be abandoning the girl on her own." He tossed his head upward, some attempt to indicate himself. "Use Thetch's. It's strong, able, familiar with the Web. Now that I've involved him, his life is already forfeit. We should keep these deaths to a minimum. We're not murderers, Stheno."

by **Edalene** on June 14th, 2011, 11:08 am

Eda shrank further into Yartree's chest, his strong arms and body heat a small comfort amongst a world of ghosts and Nuits and dead fathers. She gazed in horror at Tarrow, possessing the innocent man's body. Yartree was still confused behind her, still clutching her shoulder, both irritated at her unexplainable fear, but feeling some of that same fear himself. She wanted to cry out, to yell at Tarrow that he didn't have to be this cold murdering bastard, that he could just LEAVE Damie -- Stheno -- now.

She was about to say something, no idea what, before Yartree, blessed, ignorant Yartree, tried to assert his own power in the situation with meaningless words. She turned slightly, half facing Yartree, opening her mouth to hiss out a scathing reply and an insistance that they dodge Thetch and LEAVE, when Damie -- STHENO -- spoke those chilling words which solidified the lack of hope for Eda. She turned to look at Damie, aware that he had just completely outed himself, and that Yartree himself now knew there was something up. Suddenly, she heard a THUMP from behind her, and a muffled cry as Yartree crashed to the floor with his considerable bulk.

She let out a scream of surprise, spinning on the spot, long hair flying out in an arc as she bent to check if Yartree was alive, that he still breathed, that he wasn't lying on the floor dead, that she hadn't lost both pieces of family she had in one day. But before she could touch him worriedly, her movements clumsy in her haste, she was pulled with a scream of pain and shock and utter fear against Thetch's body by the hair, her head snapping backwards before the rest of her. Her body collided with Thetch's, and Tarrow had her hair in a vicelocked grip.

She struggled instinctively, until the cool chill of a sharp blade was felt against her throat. She stilled, almost too still, though her chest heaved as she struggled to breath. She was too scared for tears, as her hands drew backwards and grabbed Tarrow's pants, but she knew she could do nothing in this position. She was helpless as her eyes scanned Yartree, checking for signs of life, sighing when she saw his shallow breath. Her eyes snapped up to Damie as he spoke, voice cold, no longer the voice of her father. A heartbreaking sob was drawn from her as the realisation sunk in, but the two bondmates had begun to speak, and whatever pain she might feel meant nothing to anyone.

A shudder ran down her spine as Damie's cold eyes brushed over her, and she looked down fearfully, finding she couldn't lock eyes with the parasite that fed off her father. She was struggling not to sob too hard, or move too much, though tears of fear slowly dripped down her cheeks, an automatic response - despite her desperate need for strength in the situation. She breathed a sigh of relief when Damie moved his eyes to Tarrow, but that relief did not last long when Damie spoke his words. Despite the things Tarrow had done, she had never wanted that time they spent together to all be a ploy, to be an act. She still wanted to be WANTED by him, and yet another sob wracked through her body, as all the emotions and stress of the last day caught up with her, and everything seemed helpless. She couldn't listen to his words, couldn't listen as they bargained for her future, what was to become of her. If she listened to the man she had feelings for debate this with what was once her father ... no. Her eyes remained trained on Yartree. She couldn't look away, for fear those shallow breaths would stop.

When there was a pause in conversation between the two, Eda felt a single word ripper from her, at a husky whisper - too low to be heard by Damie. It was only for Tarrow, just one last battle for his heart and emotion, her last playing guard before she sagged completely. "Please," she whispered, and her voice broke half way through. But it opened the barrage of words, which began to stream forth. "Look what he's done, he's doing! You don't need to be with him! Tarrow, he's turning you into a monster! You're not, you're not a monster, but he is... please, let me go, let Yartree go, let Thetch go... let yourself go and just leave him! Tarrow, please, please, please..." Her last words descended into incoherent begging as she played her last card. She couldn't do anything else, not yet. Probably not ever.

by **Mycroft** on June 16th, 2011, 8:40 pm

Edalene’s desperate pleas were not without their effect, but Tarrow was steadfast. His slight reactions were mostly felt in the steadiness of that sword – which honestly Tarrow had no idea how to use – and the grip of his hand entangled in his prisoner’s hair. He looked down, hiding his mouth behind the girl’s head from Stheno. Barely more than whisper, all he could say to her was, “I’m sorry.”

A wry chuckle made its way out of Damie’s dry throat. The animated cadaver pushed himself up into a sitting position with some minor difficulty, clutching desperately at his bandaged abdomen. The wound had not remotely healed, and precious Ichor and embalming fluid seeped into the bandages. The Nuit was still weak from his transfer, was still adapting to this new stolen body. He had no intention of fully sealing himself within the Ankal, as he’d have a new body soon enough. None of this had gone according to plan, but it had been his own arrogance that had gotten him injured to start with. Now Tarrow was ruining everything by becoming sympathetic with that insipid girl.

“I thought returning to Cyphrus would help me remember my roots, where I came from,” Stheno hissed, still leaning over in his bed of hides, struggling to keep a hold of himself. It seemed he was barely holding together. It was clear that the service Tarrow provided him was invaluable. “I never wanted to become… what did you say…? A monster. I just wanted to live, Edalene. LIVE! But the very idea was an affront to the gods. They tried to kill me, over and over, but I RESISTED! They killed Gallrunner, they killed Tarrow, they tried to take EVERYTHING FROM ME!” Shouting seemed to cause the Nuit pain, so he paused a moment to recover himself. The act of drawing in the breath – only necessary for him to form words – seemed to agitate the wound and cause him more duress. He closed his eyes, trying to ease himself. “Tarrow came back from the dead for me. For ME. I owed it to him, to myself, to defy the gods’ will and survive by whatever means necessary.” Damie’s stolen face turned to Edalene, traced with the first hints of pain and emotional strife. “Life is so fleeting, Edalene. So precious. It is with no small consideration that I take your father’s life, or your brother’s, to lengthen my own. Our fates have always been ordained by Lhex to intertwine. Their lives are not lost in vain. Their bodies go on to further my own life. And I will live for them. I will show them everything.”

Pawing at the bed of hides, the Nuit very carefully pushed himself to his feet. The bandages were exposed now as the thin blanket fell from him, stained in blotches of dark green and brown – colors that should not appear on bandaged flesh. Pallid and sunken, Damie Sunblaze’s lifeless eyes returned to Edalene and Tarrow. Seen more closely, death was more evident now. His eyes were beginning to cloud over, and indeed, the Nuit was mostly blind from their mild decay.

“Your compromise, Tarrow, is touching, but this young man’s body is much more durable and young. I’m afraid I’ve already made up my mind.” His wicked gaze turned on Yartree’s crumpled form, which still moved in unconsciousness. “Take the girl outside. Finish her. Her death will send a shockwave to the Web, and we’ll have more Watch here than I can handle. Draw their attention while I concentrate. Ionu’s power will grant me enough time to deliver our young friend into death, and I will slip into his body. Make my illusions real, Tarrow. This will be the most difficult thing we’ve ever done.”

“Stheno… it won’t work. You can’t use Ionu’s illusions when –”

“Do as I say, Kelvic. Remember, our bond is eternal.” Damie smiled softly. “Those were the words you gave me. Do you remember?”

Thetch’s head nodded grimly. With a sigh, he tightened his grip on Edalene’s hair. For all his gentleness, Tarrow didn’t seem to have any problem with hurting anyone. Perhaps it was his own disconnection from true pain that had, over time, decreased his ability for empathy. He knew that Edalene wouldn’t simply leave Yartree behind, however. That would not be in her character. Leaning close, he whispered ever so softly in Edalene’s ear words that he knew she wanted to hear, that would make her cooperate. “I have a plan. Yartree will not die.”

Pushing the girl outside, Thetch lowered his sword as soon as they passed the flap of the tent.

“I can’t do it,” he told her quietly, letting her go. He still held the sword in such a way that showed he planned to use it if Edalene tried to rush past him, or run away. He couldn’t catch her if he ran. Not as Thetch. But as himself, Tarrow the Ghost, it was a simple matter of possession. “I can’t stop him. After so much work to stay tethered to this plane, coming back to stand by him… I can’t… I can’t sever the bond…” Thetch hung his head, quivering. It looked like it was from emotion, but it was in actuality the Drykas himself struggling for control over his own body. Tarrow was losing his strength. “He avenged me, Edalene. When I was murdered, he avenged me. I watched him slay my killers, in my name. I can’t… betray him… But it can’t go on like this. His plan is suicide. You, Thetch, Yartree, you will all die in vain so that Stheno can go out with a fight. Please… you’re the only one who can stop this. You… you have to kill him…”

Thetch fell to his knees, clutching his head. Tarrow was losing control. “Remove… his head… that’s how you… nrh… kill a Nuit. I won’t stop you. Please… aahh… give your father's body his due peace... you…”

Tarrow slipped from Thetch’s body, but did not appear anywhere nearby. The Watchman simply collapsed to the ground, drained and unconscious. His sword clattered next to him.

OOCTime to show Damie what those knots mean.

by **Edalene** on June 17th, 2011, 3:28 am

Eda waited, tense, hopeful that maybe, of the slimmest chance, she had gotten through to Tarrow. She thought she had felt a waver in his countenance, the smallest sign of doubt. She knew that he had misgivings, that he thought himself a monster. She prayed, oh Gods she prayed, that he would take the chance she was offering him, offering him a chance for redemption and peace and life. Tarrow did not need to be alive to have life. He would never have life with Stheno, and it frustrated her that he could not see that - or rather, that he could see it and wouldn't do anything about it. Her body tensed up as he shifted closer to her, Thetch's lips brushing against her skin as he spoke the two words that made her heart stop and all hope to be lost. She couldn't respond, she merely stared hard at Yartree's form, WILLING him to get up, to move. She couldn't focus on Tarrow anymore. She was losing the battle for him, losing the battle for life - Yartree's. She had already lost Damie. Oh Gods, she was a monster. Here she was, mourning the loss of Tarrow, when her own father's carcass lay desecrated by the soul of the true monster. She didn't feel the pain of that yet, and the fact that she didn't feel pain was more painful than anything. Angrily, she shoved her hands against Tarrow, and though it did not do anything, at least he could feel her rage. Suddenly, with a mood swing faster than she had expected, she hated Tarrow for corrupting her. With a hiss, she bit out two simple words. "Petch you."

Her head snapped over to Damie -- Stheno, she berated herself -- when he chuckled, a harsh mean sound that was unbefitting the proud Drykas her father really was. Her eyes were suddenly flashing in anger, and it was all she could do not to start yelling at him. Instead, she stood, still gripped by Tarrow - she revelled in the slight pain, allowing it to fuel her anger - and stayed silent, a dark glare adorning her face as she stared at Stheno with all the hate she could muster. In life, her father would never have let her get away with such impudence, but in death, he had no more say. She let the rage she felt at these two wash over her. She had never allowed herself to feel rage before. It was too dangerous to be angry around Damie and Yartree, when they kept her under their thumb. But now Damie was dead and Yartree could be dying, and there was nothing to stop Eda's pain and anger at being the forgotten one all these years. Even the petching monster Stheno had forgotten her. She was just some girl Tarrow had to keep occupied while he did the work. She was just a little hiccup. She swore to herself as she stood fuming, not paying the least attention to the self satisfying rants of the Nuit, that she would not be forgotten again. These two petching dead bastards would not forget that she was a threat, she was a petching Drykas. She was NOT forgotten.

She raised her attention to him once again, having not taken in a word of the trite he had just uttered, when he stood up, the blankets falling away and exposing the true horror of what the Nuit had done to Damie's body. He had defiled it. His body looked weak, and the bandages were transmuted with the earthy colours of green and brown, a sickening colour like an old bruise. His eyes were clouded, and he looked disgusting. A shiver ran down her spine, and her back pressed up against Thetch's chest, as she stared at the riddled mess that was Damie's body. It was even more horrifying to know that that wound was there by Damie's own hand.

Eda's entire body flinched at his suggestion, suddenly scared that despite all her rage and fury and intent, she would die alongside her family, extinguishing her pavilion in one fell stroke. Her hands gripped hard at Tarrow's thighs, suddenly afraid, her nails biting into his skin. "No--" she stammered, a pure survival instinct in an attempt to do whatever she could to save herself. But Tarrow began to argue with Stheno then, and in a frenzied pace she wondered how she could get out of Tarrow's grip, get to Yartree and heave him outside. In her state, she was almost half convinced it could be done. With a squeak, she choked as Tarrow's grip tightened on her hair, pulling her face further up to his. She listened to his words and suddenly, everything in her seemed to still. Could she trust him? But he began to push on her out of the tent, and it was all she could do to go along, unless she wanted a sword through the throat. Her eyes were trained on Yartree the entire time she was forced out of the tent, praying to every God in the pantheon that by the time she returned, he wouldn't be the new Stheno.

She gasped as she was let go, once outside. She fell to her knees, on all fours like a dog as she gasped for air. Time stood still for a moment as her tired brain hurried to process everything that had just happened, and was still happening inside the tent. With a cry, she stood up hurriedly, flailing, her hand going directly to the hilt of her beloved broadsword. She spun around, fully intending to threaten Tarrow - but the broken look on his face and the tired tone of his words halted her. She watched him, warily, and a part of her - the part that still lay, caring and the kind Eda she always was underneath that foreign rage - broke for him. It was what stilled the blade as she watched him, quietly gasping and stuttering through his heart wrenching explanation. She listened to his story, and suddenly she could not fault him. She was so confused. She wanted to say so much, but he hurried through his words, justifying his devotion to his bondmate, and then signing his own death warrant. Eda was witnessing the breaking of a man, and it hurt her to the core to watch him come undone.

She was about to question him, when he commanded her to cut off Stheno's head and he fled from the body. She waited for a moment, in still shock, hoping that Tarrow would materialise and explain everything better, but he did not. She was alone. And she had been ordered to chop off her own father's HEAD. He was dead, long dead, and his body was already defiled - but his head. How could she stare her father in the eye as the appendage fell from his body? She couldn't do it. No way could she do it.

Until she stopped, and remembered Yartree still lay unconcious and silent inside the tent. So, without anymore thought, she turned and hurried straight into the pavillion. She didn't think of the fact she may have to kill her own father - his second death within a day - she didn't think she may be running to her own death. She didn't think that Tarrow had fled. She only drew the knotted broadsword, and ran back into the pavilion. For Yartree. Endrykas. Tarrow. Herself.

by **Mycroft** on June 18th, 2011, 2:29 am

Tarrow was exhausted. He’d done too much all at once: possessed THREE hosts inside an hour. Materialization alone was difficult, let alone making himself look convincing enough as a living person. The ghost hovered outside, invisible to most of the world, but he was watching Edalene. He couldn’t harm Stheno; he simply couldn’t. Asking Edalene to literally decapitate her father was absolutely horrible, but he was already dead. That Stheno was still the same one he bonded with so many years ago, even if time and experience had twisted him nearly beyond recognition.

As Edalene went in, Tarrow lingered, observing Thetch. He was disoriented and fumbling in the grass, but he would be fine with a little rest. A cool breeze would slip into the tent as Tarrow moved inside, and before long, the enclosed space was chilly with his presence. The ghost wouldn’t know it, but he knew the effect he had. Aside from being a horse, it was the second reason he hated being indoors.

Inside, the Nuit had prepared for Tarrow’s treachery. It was to be expected: he knew the fool had fallen for the girl the minute Tarrow didn’t simply slice her throat. And anyway, these tent walls were anything from soundproof. Though he was weak, Stheno was not defenseless. As for Tarrow… he’d be dealt with later. Stheno would not die to some pathetic little girl.

Knelt down over Yartree, Stheno had been inspecting his potential new body, grabbing him by his hair and rolling his head over. It had taken every ounce of strength to sever most of this tent from the Web so discreetly. Yartree’s death, or Edalene’s, would be such violent events that Stheno would be helpless to stop their reverberations. He was much too weak now to call on his Djed. Killing either of them would have to be a careful task, especially since he no longer had Tarrow’s assistance. It would take his most treasured ability to distract Edalene and even the Watch long enough for Stheno to kill Yartree and take his body.

As Edalene came in, Stheno’s head shot up, a knife in his hand. Stark horror painted his face. “No! Please! Please don’t hurt me!” Damie’s voice pleaded, pulling Yartree with him as he edged away futilely.

Then a warm hand took a gentle hold of Edalene’s arm. “Please, don’t hurt him,” a woman’s voice whispered. It was the same dark-haired woman that had lured Damie to his death. He had confused her for Hiya, but if had gotten a closer look, he would have known that she wasn’t his wife. Her body could be dimly made out through the thin, silken gown that clung to her frame. Waves of dark hair fell over her shoulders. She really was beautiful. Her blue eyes graced Edalene’s, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she begged her. “Edalene, you mustn’t. Would you really harm your own father?”

by **Edalene** on June 19th, 2011, 3:13 am

Eda burst into the tent, eyes quickly adjusting to the sudden darkness of the tent, after the warm spring weather outside. Every time she saw Stheno it was another shock to her body, seeing a look of such coldness and death on her dead father's face, so out of place from the usual indifference with which Damie surveyed Eda. He was gripping Yartree by the hair, moving his head around, and Eda felt angry at the way in which he dominated Yartree's unconscious body, in a way the proud man would never had allowed, had he been awake. Eda straightened her back as she charged towards Stheno. She would need to have enough conviction for the three of them - herself, the blacked out Yartree, and her father who would never get to be convicted again.

Her heart stopped for a moment as she saw the dagger, and by the cool look on Yartree's face, she thought perhaps she was too late. But his ragged breath gave her hope, and she tore her eyes away from his unmoving form, fixing Stheno with a deadly glare. She scoffed, suddenly not at all reluctant to destroy this monster, and clutched her broadsword in a deadly challenge before her. She listened to his plea, and knew it was only an act. The monster could not be afraid. He had weaned out all feelings he may have had when he had begun this killing spree years ago. "You petching know I'm going to hurt you, you shyke." She raised her sword as if preparing to deal the killing stroke, and advanced in cold, steady movements. He would not touch Yartree like that.

She jumped, swirling around and pointing the tip of her sword to the woman's neck, holding her at the point of the blade. The warm hand on her arm had thrown her. She had not known there was another woman in the tent. She glared at her, momentarily forgetting about Stheno in her shock, and held the broadsword with a strength that belied her slight frame. The woman that gripped her and begged for Stheno's life was beautiful. She was dark haired and pale, as beautiful as a summer's night. Eda felt a twinge of recognition, and the word slipped from her lips before she could even think about it. "Mother...?"

...image of a beautiful woman with long dark hair. As luck would have it, Damie mistook this image for a woman named Hiya...

The words came back to her, in Tarrow's soft voice. She realised she was being played, being toyed with the image of the mother she had never known. Anger grew again as she realised this was not her. This was NOT Hiya. She would never know what her mother looked like. She would NEVER know who Hiya was, and now this bastard Stheno took away what she could have had. The sword was pressed closer to the woman's throat, and she tried to push aside the longing inside her, her eyes flickering between Stheno, Yartree, and this illusion. "Let go of me, spirit," she spat, and she tried to shake off the gripping hand. "My quarrel is with you, Stheno. Face me directly, like a Drykas. Do not play with images and toys when you can fight for yourself." She turned her head, staring Stheno in the eyes with such conviction, spitting out a single word.

"Coward."

by **Mycroft** on June 19th, 2011, 9:51 am

The sensation of the hand on Edalene’s arm seemed to diminish, the warmth replaced by the cool air inside the tent – cooled further by Tarrow’s invisible presence. The image of the dark haired woman seemed to flicker and shift, like a hazy dream that didn’t quite make sense. She smiled sadly, as if she was somehow autonomous, and aware that she wasn’t truly real. As her image fell apart, she seemed to realize that she was “dying,” and then she faded. A mother’s sorrow remained ingrained in her face until it disappeared from view.

“You want to face me, girl? You want to speak of Drykas honor?” Stheno’s fear was replaced suddenly by a sinister smile. He polished his mocking remarks with a low laugh, then shook his head. “It sickens me, to stay in this body. Do you think, in the end, he thought anything for Drykas honor? That he faced his death like a hero? What exactly did Tarrow tell you, hm? That he ran himself through to prevent me from using him? I imagine he detailed that much. But do you know, Edalene? Do you know that he begged? Threw his Drykas pride to the petching wolves and begged?”

The next instant, that image of Stheno, kneeling there on the floor, flickered the same way the dark haired woman had. “I’m not going to give you the chance to disgrace yourself,” he hissed, but his mouth hadn’t moved. The voice had come from behind Edalene. “I’m sorry it had to—”

“Hrkh…!” Tarrow was there, fully materialized with a knife sticking out of his abdomen – the one Stheno had intended for Edalene. The Nuit had been standing there behind her, the whole time, masked in his own illusion while he set up a distraction. Staying on his feet had been difficult, but now he’d mustered up the strength to put a blade in the girl’s back. The Kelvic knew that Stheno was going to pull something like this, and he’d been ready to intervene. What did he have to lose? He couldn’t die again, anyway. He could, however, feel pain beyond the imagining of any living being.

“…Tarrow, what are you doing?!” Stheno gasped, reeling back as much as his weakened body would let him. “You… IDIOT!”

The knife suddenly fell through space and clattered on the ground as Tarrow’s body gradually lost its cohesion. Becoming quickly transparent, he doubled over, clutching his abdomen and eventually sinking to his knees. “You’re… right…” he whimpered softly before vanishing completely. Now unarmed, Stheno was fully revealed, clutching onto his leaking bandages and still recovering from the shock of stabbing his only friend – even if he couldn’t truly be killed again. If Edalene hesitated long enough, he’d have time to reach for the knife and lunge at her again.

by **Edalene** on June 22nd, 2011, 8:01 am

Despite her words of bravado, Eda could not help but feel a sense of loss as the woman who could have been her mother faded away. It was not her mother, and she was angry that Stheno presumed to pretend it was, but this image, the image of the dark haired woman that Damie had thought to be Hiya, the image that Damie had essentially died for ... it was the closest Eda was ever going to get to seeing Hiya Sunblaze. So, as the image of the woman flickered away, she kept her eyes trained on the fading illusion, trying to see her mother in this stunningly beautiful woman. That her father had died for, just like her mother had died for her. She gulped as the woman finally, ultimately, faded away, taking the last vestiges of Hiya with her.

As the monster spoke with a mocking tone, her resolve, which had melted slightly as Hiya had done, firmed itself again. Not only was the parasite using his wiles to face Eda, he presumed to mock her courage. Well, she may not have strength of arm, and she may not be particularly intelligent - she did not really give herself much credit in those areas - but she had courage, and she had Drykas spirit. Gripping her sword, she took a threatening step towards the muttering monster Stheno, listening to his words with an angry gaze. Her jaw was clenched, but the fire she felt within was clearly portrayed by her fierce stare.

She could not help herself, and she broke her cool silence. It was one thing to hear Stheno insult Damie himself, but to insult the very thing that made him who he was ... she would not stand for it. "You are wearing his skin, parasite," she hissed, and she took another threatening step towards her father and Yartree's body. "My father did not beg. I don't know what happened in his last moments, but Damie Sunblaze would not beg. He-- what?" She cut off her sentence with a gasp, and her blood ran cold as she realised she had been played. Whirling around, to the source of Stheno's voice, she prepared herself to see the Nuit who would bring the Sunblaze pavilion to a halt with her death.

"NO!" The word wrenched from her as she saw Tarrow, as solid as a human being, with a knife sticking out of his stomach - a knife that would have been in her back. He looked so real, so human, that she almost stretched out her hand to touch him in his last moments - until she realised he was a ghost, he was fine, he wouldn't die. It probably didn't even hurt. She looked up, a smug grin of grim satisfaction playing on her lips as she looked at Stheno, who in horror realised he had stabbed his own bondmate. Slowly, he lost his shape, and Eda felt warm as she looked at the man who had saved his life, the knife falling to the ground in a clatter - them sharing their last moments together, as Tarrow "died".

She didn't even think. She looked quickly up to his face one last time, and suddenly felt no remorse. This was not her father, who sat there with an ugly sneer. Her father was long dead. Although it was her father's body that she was dismembering, she was honouring him. Honouring him by protecting his earthly home from the desecration of Stheno the monster. And so, with one quick look towards Damie's face, she swung her sword in a wide arc, a wide sweep that went straight for his neck. Her eyes never wavered from his the entire time, though it seemed to move in slow motion, getting her last moments. She did not flinch. Her aim did not waver. She was set to cut off her own father's head.