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shardclan · 5 years

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“The penny-pinching curs would let us perish if it got them another coin!”

“They’re going to need some kind of recompense unless you want them breathing down Her Majesty’s neck until this time next cycle. You have to give them something.”

The subject of the Merchant’s Guild was hot enough that even Stellaria’s persistent thralldom was pushed from the forefront of her mind. However, she was much harsher and significantly less cool-headed than usual, perhaps owing to some sort of astral-related separation anxiety.

“I will give them nothing. Let them breathe where they wish, it’s Rebis’ job to uphold what is best.”

Caress curled her violet lips. Thralldom or no, Stellaria’s coarseness was testing her patience. “And it is your job, as literal Tribune of Shade-Damned Commerce, to promote positive standing with foreign merchants and keep our economy afloat.”

Rebis tapped her focus on the marble top for silence. “I appreciate you two returning to this topic so doggedly—” Polite words, they were stubborn as horn-locked melprins. “—But reparations must first go to livelihoods in Noon Point and to the restoration of the clan’s welfare system.”

Caress and Stellaria both shifted forward in their seats, Caress with far more effect as Stellaria was still bound to her chair.

“Without the support of the merchants there will be little chance of repairing the economic damage we’ve sustained.”

“Oh now you’re for supporting them?”

“I always supported them!” Stellaria snapped. “But I don’t think it should involve compensation!”

Caress punctuated her words with heavy slams of her pebbled fists. “They. Are. Merchants! What kind of support do you expect they’re going to want after two and half eons of lost business?!”

“Ladies,” Rebis said softly but meaningfully. “Recall that I was tutored under Saber and that I cut my teeth on merchant discussions when the guild tried to cook Telos for closing Thunder’s March due to the Outsider incident that preceded my hatching. I am prioritizing Aphaster City merchants, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave the Guild to hang.”

“Now. I value both of your opinions, but this isn’t a discussion that can be had fruitfully without the attendance of a representative of Trader’s Walk on site. So, for the 3rd time in as many days, shelve that discussion until we can have it fruitfully.”

The two women sat back in their seats with muffled huffs.

A gentle cough interrupted the discussion from the entry. Half the table rose, a bit stiffly and wearily, to its feet to greet Hart.

In his typical fashion, he nodded to them all and waved them back into their seats. Inside the half-circle, he regarded Rebis for the first time since her return. She looked good. Calmer and a bit harder. Truly and adult, and no longer his charge.

“You look well, my Queen.” He raised a carved chest with the emblem of Lightweaver emblazoned in gold on its center. “I’ve come to deliver your ceremonial garb. The clan has missed enough celebrations. So long as you are back, I thought you might not want to let Brightshine slip by.”

Rebis raised smiled. With Samhradh enthralled and lightborn dragons at too much risk, it fell to an Arcanite to praise the Light. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. “You thought right, that would never do. Shall we all take a break?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The robes felt made for her. Like a gift granted to her for achieving the status of Archmage. When this was all over, she would have new clothes tailored to incorporate it as a part of her royal garb.

“At penalty of re-opening the issue,” said Flaga, as Rebis settled back into her chair. “May I request that any external reparations the clan is able to provide at all be provided to the Beastclans?”

Rebis rubs at her celestine jewelry. The centaurs have had to work by night in order to be safe in the Summerlands, and they have not been able to utilize the area near House Perihelion at all. Unless they could turn things around quickly and recover the spring-planted crops allowed to go wild it would mean another famine year come winter. The previous one had already strained their relationship to tatters, it would never survive another winter like that.

“I believe that would be a wise course of action, in addition to physical labor assistance in the farming sector.”

Stellaria said nothing, but Caress did not look particularly impressed. “If we’re discussing agreements, what about the alcohol trade from Gethsemene which was halted due to inability to use the Sundew Falls as a port area with the astral having overtaken House Perihelion?”

“You’ll forgive me my skepticism, but have a single one of your districts’ clients has gone thirsty during this problem?”

Caress smiled and crossed her massive legs. “Of course not. But that is just the trouble. With Noon Point closed, merchants that didn’t funnel over to Feldspar have been watching the situation from Bramble Step. It is an entertainment district, not designed to hold thousands of squatters on a long-term basis. While they have paid well to drink my good wine, a low stock of rare drink is not an easy stock to replace.”

Saber coughed and leaned earnestly forward. “How could a woman with your funds and influence want for anything, especially given proximity to the Tangled Wood?

Saber’s well-known mild temperament spared him her more aggressive one. She knew without thought that he wasn’t trying to accuse or challenge her and answered him just as politely as he’d asked. “Darling, you’ve been dealing with practical and straightforward money concerns on Horizon’s Landing too long. No one buys alcohol like five hundred merchant caravans trading information in the absence of ability to set up shop and go about normal business. They have been ‘investing’ quite heavily in one another and in my richer patrons and that means my most wastelessly exotic alcohols are in the red.”

“Surely some of the merchants squatting there must have what you’re begging for,” Stellaria grumbled.

Caress took a deep breath. “Stellaria, my dear, your brain has been addled by Titi you thinks those merchants aren’t trying to charge me the highest mark-up they think they can get away with without insulting me.”

“Settle down,” Rebis said absently. She nodded to Azricai, who had been busily scribing the minutes of their days-long Tribunal due to Samhradh’s sulkiness. “I’m sure Gethsemene will have a mouthful to say about being off-shored since Wavecrest with a full cargo and an unpaid crew. Make a note—“

Rubranova yanked Rebis’ chair back and Nayvadius leaped forward, sword out and shield raised to deflect a strike.

Above him, the Umbra Wolf grinned in her feverish way. “Nice to see you’re in good health!”

“Same fi you,” said Nayvadius with his own grin, pushing her back. “Nah hard feeling, yuh? Me bed ah empty space fi fit you still.”

She swung her sickle casually at the far edge of the hall and flicked her tongue. “I mean if you’re inviting me, what’s the point if there’s no hard feelings~?”

“Stop flirting!”

The words didn’t come from Rebis. She was well past trying to force those two to be court-appropriate.

It came from Titi, who stormed in with Pistis and Phi.

Caress made a strangled noise and covered her mouth. “Oh my darling--!” She bolted from her seat. Pistis stepped deftly in the way of Titi-tet, seemingly unaware that Caress was running toward her.

She cupped Pistis’ thin face. “Dear heart you’re a mess! That brat has done you no good.”

Pistis gave a wan smile. “You’re being so dramatic, Caress. You sound like Generous. I’ve been fine and Titi has been a delight. I wish you had come to see me, you would love her.”

“I don’t want her!” Titi hissed, shoving Pistis and trying to no avail at all to shove Caress.

Even in her glamour, Caress was not a shovable woman, and looked down her nose at the shameless but pitiful attempt. She could crush Titi beneath her heel, but that wasn’t the plan.

“Move along you little terror or I will have Carnelian beat you with your own antlers.”

Half incensed, half terrified, Titi skittered away toward Rebis muttering something quite impolite about shadow dragons. “What are you doing here?”

“Running my clan,” Rebis said, laying a staying hand on Rubranova and re-settling into her chair. “Is there something you need?”

Titi squinted. Her mouth hung slightly agape at the strange calm in the room. She barely remembered Rebis, but this was not what she recalled. The person in her memories had been rightly crying in the dirt.

“I killed you,” she sputtered.

“You tried, yes.”

Bestealcian guffawed loudly. Titi shot her a dirty look and snorted in Rebis’ direction. “You can’t just come back. You lost! You’re supposed to stay dead!”

Rebis scooted back up to the table, glanced at the next order of business, and scrunched her nose. House Xanna was interested in receiving a report on the astral. ‘Report’ for them meant sending dragons who were involved to have their memories added to the Library. She’d have told them to eat dirt on principle, but they were offering payment. Very attractive payment, in fact.

“We’re in the middle of a Tribunal meeting,” she said, pre-occupied with just what that exchange might look like. “If you want an audience, it will have to wait. What was it I was saying before…? Ah yes, Azricai make a note to arrange a meeting including Caress, Gethsemene, myself, and the managers of all the primary liquor distributors in the territory.”

“As you say, your Majesty.”

“Stop it.” Titi snarled, her body going bright with a gathering light. “Stop Ignoring Me.”

It was high noon. As predicted, Titi had come at the height of her power.

She emitted a wave of light that was almost liquid. Stellaria and Samhradh wrestled with their bonds, suddenly agitated and nearing hysterical. The Tribunes looked away, but as the light waves washed over them they struggled against a rising compunction to look Titi’s way. To know her. To worship her. To play with her.

At the far end of the table, Rebis spoke: “Envision.”

She didn’t need the words any more than she needed her focus, but she wielded both. The pink ring around her eyes was consumed by the light of her vast magical power, and the high ceiling of the Hall filled with gilded shapes. Every eye was drawn up—away from Titi and to the shape that Rebis was weaving into reality above them. The form of it was near-impossible to make out, obscured in brighter and brighter light the longer Rebis focused.

The wings of a locust wrought in gold opened and Titi cries out in horror.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT, YOU CAN’T—“

The envisioning of Lightweaver uttered a sharp and silencing howl. It did not speak. It was not truly her, but it was every bit as powerful as Rebis believed Her to be. Rebis’ capacity was greater than even Lutia’s, and her power was young and vital and near-infinite with the rising of Light and the recent blessing of the true Lightweaver. At that particular moment in time, during that particular alignment of events, that belief was not misplaced.

The light drew in, focusing on the astral with searing intensity.

Titi-tet was from a plane much closer to the gods—the astrals could perhaps even become as gods given enough millennia. But Titi had not had millennia. It has had a mere 2 cycles in Sornieth’s time since the Seat was moved and the Stones had gone to seed. There was not enough Light in her entire being to out-shine the envisioning, even though it was a mere copy. As the light grew sharper and brighter she was forced to look away and her body began to burn under the radiance.

Phi stepped in the way of the light to shield her, and Titi fled into a ray of noon sun filtering from the ceiling windows.

Caress stomped down a heavy heel. “Assombrissais.”

The panes of light magic that made the windows dulled and went black, revealing Titi’s fluttering shape as they shut the sunlight out.

Titi roared with aggravation. The shadow magic was infuriatingly simple. It had to be—Caress did not have any particular magical aptitude. But she was very well versed at making it exactly as dark as she liked with only a few carefully placed runes and a whispered word.

It was why Rebis had called her.

“Kill her, KILL HER!”

Saber moved from his chair to Phi with the lithe speed of an expertly cracked whip and pinned him to the floor. Pistis glanced nervously at Caress, who pushed her gently back to protect her from Bestealcian’s wildly swung sickle.

A wildclaw’s foot clamped over the coatl’s face, dragging her back and tossing her against the far wall. The Smoke Gyre splayed his wings wide and tilted his head at his student. “Sloppy, Umbra Wolf. I hope you’re prepared to be disciplined when this is all over.”

Beastealcian’s crest rattled, revealing her where she slithered along the stone arches. “I mean I have a date already but if you threaten me with a good time like that…”

A sizzling arcane bolt bigger than she was and quick as a shooting start collided with her and she fell like pigeon downed by an expert arrow.

Arcanus stood before the entry pillars, his glamour shed and his vast wings blotting out the light. A snort released a small gust of ozone-scented magic, and a shield raised behind him.

Unless she wanted to try bulldozing through him and the wall of his magic, Titi was trapped.

Rebis climbed light-footedly onto the surface of the table and stepped just as lightly down on the other side with Rubranova’s hand to steady her. The apparition of the Lightweaver made of her thesis spell dissipated into strands of light that encircled Titi and hauled her to the floor.

Gold tears fell from the astral’s faceted eyes like honey from a hive, but any sympathy was held at bay by the otherworldly snarl twisting her muzzle. That was not a face a dragon could make. The creature beneath was beginning to show.

“I have been told that you can stay here,” Rebis said slowly. “If you relinquish your power.”

“Why would I stay here?” Titi sniveled. “You hate me! You’ve been awful to me and I didn’t even do anything! I wanna go home!”

“You will. But even though I brought you into this world, you still have to stay and pay for your crimes.”

“Wh-what?”

Rebis held a hand out to Azricai, and received the scrolls. One was Lutia’s coveted spellscroll, which radiated enough Arcane magic to make the astral squirm and wretch on the floor. Rebis, safe beneath her white celestine crown, felt nothing. “Titi-tet the 15th, Astral of the Light on High, I sever you from the noon sun and bind you to Sornieth.”

The name of the astral glowed white-hot on the scroll, and in Rebis’ other hand, an unfamiliar breed change scroll opened.

“You can’t,” she hissed, and her voice was no longer that of a hatchling. “You cannot hope to bind me to paltry dragonhood!”

“Yes, that only seems to work for the astrals who let go of their power willingly. So we decided to go with something different.”

Rebis tossed the scroll.

Titi screamed as it coile around her. She was not truly a creature of flesh, so there was no true becoming. The pain came from being given true form, one that had to come into being rather than being altered to the magic of the scroll.

Soon the task was done and silence took over the hall.

Pistis made a sickly sound and Caress held her as she wept. Phi groaned. Stellaria struggled against her bonds with fresh fervor, and Ashes rushed to free her. Though they had grown apart since he laid down Willow’s memento, she flung herself into his arms and clutched him with feeble desperation he had never seen from her before.

Titi, weak and mortal and changed to a breed that had no connection to the Light, weakly craned her head up.

“What did…you do to me…?”

“I gave you the shape of Icewarden’s firstborn. Proto-tundras, I am to understand. What more apt prison for an extraplanar being could there be than the body of a gaoler?”

“Why…? Why not just…send me…back?”

“Because you nearly killed the queen, stole the livelihood of an entire region, and broke most if not all of our magic-related laws,” Azricai said matter-of-factually. “You have crimes to answer for.”

“...That..that’s all...?”

“It is,” Rebis said, dispelling her magic and moving to untie Samhradh, who was frothing with the need to get the story written down. “It’s simple, we know. But this is the Analemma Dominions, once Aphaster as ruled by Telos the Indomitable, who raised it from the ashes the children of Clan Shard.”

“And in this clan, even the gods will be made to abide by the law.”

#Flight Rising #Zodiac Goetia #Whew chile #C: Rebis #C: Titi-tet #C: Caress #C: Stellaria #Echoing the jailing of Phi you say? You might be right!

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madreobscurusx · 5 years

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TROUBLE— J. DEVORAK

Pairing: Julian Devorak x MC (Everie)

Word Count: 1,519

Warnings: none

I: THE BEGINNING.

The city. Crimson water. Dark alleys, a lively pub, a raven, a man. There were reasons to merit Everie Mancano's reluctance to enter the city, but the prospect of monetary recompense for her troubles fueled her return. Some would call her a con, and others a thief, but she preferred to call herself a...repurposer of goods.

By day, she paced the outskirts of town, watching, waiting, scoping out her next victim. Women, bodies clad in colorful robes and glittering jewels on their fingers, breeze around on the streets. Well-dressed men, some with a partner on their arm and others confidently solo, flaunted gold watches and perfectly tailored suits. Any one of those men or women could likely yield a decent payday if she played her cards right. It was a simple process, really. First, you present a distraction—this could be anything from introducing yourself as an associate to a business no one's ever heard of or asking the victim to sign off on a petition. From there, it's either shake their hand and strip their wrist of jewelry or hug them and storm the contents of their pockets or purse. Easy.

But Everie hadn't had a pick like that in months. Funds were frighteningly low. She hadn't eaten in weeks, and her clothing hung from her malnourished frame—the very same shawl and dress that had once fit her like a glove now engulfed her skeletal body. Her hair had thinned considerably and her once full face was gaunt and pale. To put it simply, Everie Mancano was truly in dire straits. And that was why tonight's run was so important. She needed a good pick, otherwise she'd soon be too weak to further attempt to support herself.

Night fell. A cool breeze blew pierced straight through her clothes and chilled her body, propelling her forwards and into the city lines. As Everie approached the main square, she set her sights on a white-haired man with golden skin sitting by the fountain. He held a book in his right hand, while his other hand hung lazily in the water, fingers twirling slowly. From a distance, Everie analyzed him, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes drank him in, wandering from the blue gemstone necklace that graced his collarbone to the gold rings that adorned his long, delicate fingers. She wondered how she was going to get them off him...then, it came to her. Holding her head up high, cinching her dress at the waist with the ribbon from her hair, and setting her hips into motion with a seductive sashay, Everie made her way over to him. As she drew near, he looked up, his violet eyes meeting her cunning green ones.

"Hello..." he said softly, closing the book over his thumb, marking his place. The moonlight accentuated the striking white color of his hair. His gaze was paralyzing, deep...but its effect on her wore off quickly. She gave him a gentle smile.

"May I sit?" Everie asked him, swishing her dress seductively and ever-so-slightly tilting her head. He silently obliged, gesturing to the spot beside him. A small smile rugged at his lips.

Instead of sitting beside him, she draped herself across his lap, crossed her legs and laced her arms around his neck. He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh...you're very forward."

"I find that forwardness makes things more fun," she replied, pressing a searing kiss to his exposed neck. He stiffened against her, but said nothing. Her fingers expertly worked the clasp of his necklace and gold choker, freeing them from his neck with ease as she continued to pepper his neck and jaw with kiss after kiss. The man began to go slack in her arms, relaxing, sighing with pleasure. Everie made easy work of his rings, then let her hands roam his body, searching for anything else of value—but it seemed as through she'd run him dry. She pulled away, giving him one last lidded glance before quickly rising to her feet.

"You think I didn't notice...this?" the man questioned, holding up his ringless hands, his expression unreadable. Drawing himself to his full height, he peered down at her. She shrank under his gaze, shivering from the feeling of the cold metal of his rings and necklace in her bra. A moment passed...and she bolted. He moved to catch her, light on his feet, swiping the air, trying to grab hold of her garments.

His fingers caught her sash and he pulled sharply on it, achieving no effect other than tearing it and causing her to stumble forwards. But no matter what, she kept running. Everie needed the things she'd taken from him. She ran down dark alley after dark alley, never pausing to catch her breath. She ran through places she was sure he'd never follow-cemeteries, shady side-streets...anywhere remotely dangerous. Finally, after she could no longer stand to move her legs, she stopped to catch her breath, leaning heavily against a cold and wet brick wall, slumping against it.

"Too close..." she murmured, feeling her bra for the rings and necklace. Still there. Sighing contentedly, she took one out to admire it, then slid it onto her finger, where it sat loosely. The moonlight glinted faintly off of its golden surface. Everie was so absorbed in admiring the fruit of her loot that she did not take note of the shadows shifting nearby, nor the piercing gaze that assessed her.

"You look...sick."

Everie scrambled to her feet, wary. She was face-to-face with a looming red-haired man clad in a black cloak with a blood-red inside, an eyepatch and leather gloves that went up to his elbows. "I'm fine."

The man reached out and tilted her chin upwards, then to either side, examining her face with a careful eye. "Malnutrition. Dehydration. Darling, if you stay out here much longer like this, you will die."

She swatted his hand away. "I said I'm fine."

He gazed at her thoughtfully, then said, "You must be hungry. Allow me to treat you."

Everie was about to refuse when her stomach suddenly growled loudly, earning her a smirk from the man. "Come on. You can't refuse what your body wants."

Sighing, she gave into her hunger and followed him down the dark alleyway, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where are we going?"

He didn't answer her, and instead turned sharply to the left, remaining close to the wall, grazing his fingers along it as he went. They walked for what seemed like forever. She was about to slip away into the night when the man abruptly stopped and produced a key from his cloak, and proceeded to use it to open a door she hadn't seen. Everie met his eyes and he reached out and swept her gently inside, closing the door behind her. His grey eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and that remained the only thing she could see until a candle was lit shortly afterwards, illuminating what appeared to be a home office. Jars of anatomical specimens lined the shelves, books were haphazardly strewn about the room and a layer of dust covered most surfaces.

"Forgive the mess...I don't usually have guests...though I'm also not typically home, either..." The man's voice trailed off into an amused hum. She huffed.

"I thought you said we were going to eat something, not go to your house," Everie remarked bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest, effectively pressing the cold metal of her loot to her chest, drawing out a small gasp.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, dear," he told her, vanishing into an alcove for a few moments before returning with a loaf of bread, a gilded pitcher of wine and two goblets. She hesitated before sitting down at the table as he poured her a glass of wine and cut her a slice of bread.

Everie paced herself to eat slowly, wearily watching the man out of the corner of her eye, flinching when he took a seat across from her. The man followed her every move, swirling the wine in his glass thoughtfully. When she finished, she straightened her posture and sipped slowly on her wine. "Who are you?"

The man's lips curled into a gentle smile as he echoed her question. "Who am I?"

She waited. "I am Julian Devorak."

Devorak...the murderous Doctor. The man who burned Count Lucio alive three years ago. She was sitting across from a killer. She was sipping wine with a killer. She was alone in a house with a killer. Every hair on her body stood on end.

A killer.

#the arcane game #the arcana #doctor julian #julian devorak #doctor jules #doctor devorak #the arcana asra #asra #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x everie

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