Niviene Larethian

Fumbles and Phobias

It had been Niviene’s habit for years now to continue on across the bridge that connected Duskwood and Westfall, circling down one embankment and up there other, verifying the stability of the structure as well as searching for evidence of suspect activity. On more than one occasion such an inspection had helped the members of the Shrouded Dawn get a jump on the bad guys and thwart them before they could do a great deal of harm.

Tonight had been like any other night. Braghaman had arrived at the square in Darkshire first and by the time the priestess was able to get there a newcomer had arrived. Highlord Quint stood, his golden armor shining in the dying light of the evening, the two paladins deep in discussion of events across the ocean in Boralus until the clock chimed the hour.

Realizing that it no one else would be joining them the three took off down the road.

The men continued to talk, Niviene interjecting a comment here and there as they discussed the seeming calm that fell over the district now as well as relaying information about previous attacks.

As they rode Max, Niviene’s orange tabby, walked between the feet of the great, sapphire construct that served as the priestess’ mount. The small cat had done it so often that the two seemed to walk in harmony with no fear of misstep or injury. She relaxed in the saddle, content with the day, the peaceful ride, and pleasant companions.

When they reached the bridge the men stop and Niviene rode on. Secretly she had always loved this part of patrol. The sound of the water moving lazily beneath the bridge, the echo of her mount’s steps against the aged wood, and the near silence once she stepped off the structure and into Westfall; a sharp contrast from the constant sound of wind and moaning trees that greeted a wider in Duskwood.

The woman and construct moved down the embankment with ease, she trusting her mount enough that she never looked at the ground beneath its feet, her eyes instead scanning the hill that rose beneath the bridge as well as the supports of the structure itself.

It wasn’t until the panther stepped into the river that Niviene realized her danger. The water started to churn around them, bodies slithering through the roiling waves. The priestess gave a shriek and the construct, attuned it its mistresses slightest move, panicked and took to the air, nearly causing her to strike her head on the overhanging bridge. She clung to Temperance’ mane, her knuckles showing white, her heart hammering in her chest until suddenly the construct emerged from beneath the bridge, its wings beating wildly at the open air to send them soaring into the bright open space.

Niviene struggled to regain control of the great cat, her hands trembling as she tugged on the reins until she was finally able to cross the bridge, emerging pale and visibly shaking. Never good at hiding her emotions, Bragh took one look at her and knew there was something wrong. After telling him about the nest of snakes, using what she thought was a neutral voice she assured him she was alright.

The two paladins started off toward Raven Hill when Niviene realized Max was no longer with her. Panic gripped her heart once more and she slid from the saddle, moving back toward the bridge, her voice rising as she called out to her cat. After a moment the little beastie sauntered from the bushes, giving the priestess a look of haughty indignation.

Finally the priestess joined Braghaman and Highlord Quint. As she rode along, Max once more walking between the construct’s feet, Niviene couldn’t keep her eyes from the road and the grass that bordered it on either side. She had to fight the urge to draw her feet up when she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry. When she caught Bragh looking back at her in concern she forced herself to smile and nod, unwilling to make a scene in front of the other paladin, and soon enough her cheeks ached from the effort.

It was their usual habit to dismount at the fountain once they returned to Darkshire, standing around and chatting with their companions before turning in for the night. Tonight, as they rode into the square, Bragh pulled in Valiant’s reins, making no move to dismount, and Niviene gave him a grateful smile. They lingered only a few minutes before he made their excuses and the two headed home.

When they reached the house Bragh rode to the front porch and stopped. He slipped from the saddle then moved to Niviene’s side where he put one hand to her waist and lifted her from the sapphire panther’s back, carrying her up the steps with ease. Temperance and Valiant made their own way to the back of the house and shelter as the paladin took his wife into the house, consecrating the ground and floors before finally setting Niviene gently on her feet and leading her to the sofa.

“You must think I’m pretty silly.” she said as he moved to pour a glass of whiskey and hand it to her. She took a sip, closing her eyes as it burned its way down her throat. “Thank you for taking care of me… for not making a big deal of it in front of our new friend.”

“Of course I don’t think you’re silly, I understand your fear of snakes Angel. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, and I would never do anything to humiliate you.” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Now, if you think you’ll be okay here for a few minutes I’ll go settle the mounts.”

At her nod Bragh refilled her glass and opened the back door, allowing Max to slip in. The orange tabby barely paid attention to the paladin as he leapt onto the sofa, pawing gently at Niviene’s skirts before curling up into a ball. The priestess reached down, stroking the cat’s head and was promptly rewarded with a soft, rumbling purr. Niviene smiled and looked back at Bragh, “You go ahead, he can guard me until you get back.”