Tag: Shadow Council RP x 19

Niviene walked around the tiny flat, checking the doors and windows to be certain they were locked, fortifying the wards she’d placed around the apartment to insure that they were all safe inside. 

She stepped into the bedroom the children shared, leaning over to brush a lock of golden hair from Korissa’s face then pull the blanket down to cover Banny’s feet. She smiled softly, realizing that the boy would be as tall as his father before long.

As she headed back to the living room she froze, her fingers curling into fists as she listened to footsteps coming up the stairs. She moved silently, reaching for the staff that was propped against a wall and waited, only breathing again as the person passed their door and continued down...

“We’re sorry to bring you here for such a macabre task Ms. Lancaster but we need the next of kin to identify the body.” 

The woman nodded as she stepped up to the cloth draped slab, she waited for a moment then narrowed her eyes at the priest who stood wringing his hands beside her.

“Oh! Oh yes. Sorry. So Sorry.” he muttered as he pulled the shroud back from the body. He fidgeted for a moment then cast a furtive glance at the woman, “So. Is it? I mean… is it.. Your brother?”

The woman turned an icy gaze on the priest, her fingertips drumming heavily on the edge of the slab. The man swallowed thickly, tugged at his forelock and made a hasty retreat from the room, not even bothering with a show of dignity. In his mind...

Niviene stood in the shadows, waiting for Erik to give the all clear before she stepped forward. It was difficult to see where she was going, the deep hood of her cloak cutting off her peripheral vision. It wasn’t the first time that she thanked the Light for the young man who worked for her husband.

The two made their way to a little used postern gate in the fortified walls of Iron Forge where a gryphon sat, calmly munching on a bale of hay. The dwarf who tended the gryphon nodded when he spotted the duo, handing over a pair of reins to Erik. The rogue helped Niviene mount the beast then settled in behind her. He pressed his knees lightly into the gryphon’s flanks and the creature leapt into the air, the only sound, the wind...

“What do you mean she’s gone?! How? Who?” the woman’s voice sounded panicked beneath her heavy veils.

The venthyr raised a placating hand, “She wished it and she knew the man who came for her. She assured us she would be safe.” he glanced at his companion, bidding her to confirm his statement.

The female nodded, “The woman was not happy here Sunshine, she was beginning to resemble the wraiths in the Desiccation. We could not, in good conscience, hold her against her will.” She looked pointedly at the woman, “And you were not here to say nay.”

The male spoke again, his tone matter of fact, “You knew he would come, you had been warned of such. Besides, this is no place for a living, breathing mortal. Though it...

The man stood quietly awaiting the arrival of his master, the picture of dignity and lordly reserve. His dark blonde curls shining in the torchlight, his features appeared to be carved of pristine marble. Heavily lidded eyes of amber swept the room as he wondered when his host would arrive. While he waited Caesarius watched the members of court, taking note of the various cliques, and who appeared to be in, or out, of favor.

It was only time hewn experience that allowed the man to hide his surprise when he heard a voice speak so close that it might have been in his head.

“The young one has taken you into her confidence, yes?”

“She has sire. She suspects nothing.” 

“What is it they call her? Sunshine? Sunny?”

“Yes...

Niviene sat at the desk, sky blue eyes resting on the ever growing pile of unsent letters to her husband. By her reckoning, she had been away from home for several months now. She had been certain that her captivity wouldn’t last long. And while she wasn’t exactly being held prisoner now, her liberation had not come about as she had expected it to. Had not come at all.

When she’d caught that glimpse of Erik, the priestess was sure she would be going home soon. But that glimpse was all she’d had. There had been no messages, no more sightings. Nothing.

In her heart she knew that there were few things that would keep Braghaman from finding her. But her head had been filled with the whispered doubts that seemed to permeate the air...

Niviene sat at the desk, scarlet quill in hand as she stared down at the parchment before her. She sighed heavily, glancing at the scribe beside her, “I don’t suppose you could post this for me?”

Maddie looked down at the paper then gave the priestess a pitying look, “Madame, I will tell you the same thing I have told you with the dozen other letters you’ve written, we do not know where your husband is to deliver his.” she glanced pointedly at the stacks of letters on the table, “It would not be safe to deliver those to your children. The bishop does not need to know where they are, else he attempts to use them against you.”

Niviene nodded, carefully placed the quill back in its stand, scattered sand across the paper...

“What do you mean she isn’t here?”  her voice was as calm and matter of fact as if she had been asking after his health.

The sergeant of the guard gave a soft sigh of relief, relaxing the clinched muscles in his stomach. “Well miss she just isn’t. The folks that were there said she’d gone to another outpost. The lot of ‘em did ma;am, the whole crew she was with. ”

“And did you find her there?” the priestess asked.

“Uh… no miss. It was orders to have her moved and since she’d already gone we figured the work was done.” he answered, his voice less sure than it had been before.

Adeliza Lancaster straightened, turning cold, hard eyes on the man. He swallowed thickly, his stomach knotting again as she took a...

The older draenei women gathered Niviene between them and hustled her off to a room in the upper reaches of the keep while Xaanue spoke to her father and the captain of the garrison guards. She explained, as best she could, the situation with the priestess, emphasizing the mistreatment she had received. The men nodded and turned to give orders to the watch sergeant, the newcomer was to be protected at all costs.

“I think she’s been drugged. She suspected it could happen so she refused to eat, only drank water. Still, she has a mindless focus on treating the injured. I don’t believe it’s a normal focus, I literally mean mindless…” Finara spoke to the women, trying to make them see the gravity of the situation.

“Yes, I’m...

“I insist you open this cell now. This instant.” her voice was low and sharp as the executioner’s axe while her pale blue eyes were as cold as the ice on Anvilmar Lake.

The guard swallowed thickly but stood his ground. “Orders are no one sees the prisoner.”

The woman took a deep breath, leaning menacingly close to the guard. “He is my brother. I demand to see him.”

“Begging your pardon ma’am but you’re being another priest and all don’t give you pass to see the prisoner.”

“He is my brother by birth you dolt. We share parents, we share blood.” she straightened, bringing her several inches taller than the guard. She peered down the length of her narrow nose, her expression leaving no doubt as to her lowly...

“You don’t belong here.” 

Niviene raised her head, shoving a mass of dirty, tangled hair from bloodshot eyes. She looked around, her unfocused eyes finally settling in the general area of the one who spoke, “I don’t even know where here is.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll give ya odds it ain’t where you’re supposed to be.” the speaker stepped closer to the priestess, sniffing lightly at the air around her, “You’re a healer ain’t ya? You smell of camphor, and blood.”

Moving away from the diminutive woman, Niviene was finally able to clear her head enough to take in their surroundings. Her companion was a goblin with hair the color of ripe strawberries, pulled up in a ponytail that bounced when she moved, her bangs...

Niviene raised her head as yet another stretcher bearing a gravely ill soldier was jostled into the crowded space. She heaved a sigh, shoved a dirty lock of hair from her eyes and moved on to her next patient.

She’d left Oribos, against her will, and entered Bastion. The locals had been kind enough to alot them a space near Aspirant’s Rest in which to make a triage space. The wounded came in steadily and she was one of the ones to determine who would be treated and who was too far gone to be saved. She hated it. And she hated Bishop Lancaster for putting her in this position.

He had given her a choice, be locked up in a cell to stew, or actually make some good out of the circumstances she found herself in. At first she had planned...

“I’m here to see Bishop Lancaster, he sent for me.” Niviene said to the third priest she’d been directed to, her voice taking on an impatient edge. It had been ages since she’d been to the Stormwind Cathedral and longer still since anyone there had thought to ask for her specifically. Unable to determine what the summons was about, the priestess had agreed to make the journey to the capital, certain she would be home before the school day was over.

“He’s just through there.” the priest motioned vaguely toward a door, his expression harried and dour. Niviene opened her mouth to speak but the man glowered at her and walked away. With a sigh the priestess walked through the indicated door, startled to see a bustle of...

The house was quiet, everyone was still sleeping except her. She climbed up on the window seat and pulled back the flowered curtains to look down into the garden below. Momma’s flowers had just started blooming, the ones that were brave enough and strong enough to come out while the mornings were still cold that is. Korissa knew she shouldn’t touch those flowers, momma needed them for the special inks she made for the man who painted pictures on people’s skin, like the angel wings he put on daddy.

Kori slipped down from the seat and rummaged through her drawers, finding some clothes that would be warm, wool socks that came up over her knees, a thick linen underdress and a wool overdress, topped by a thick knitted sweater. She...

She stepped into the garden, blue eyes scanning the dead flowers and withered vines before turning her gaze to the sky. A few hours left before sundown she reckoned, long enough to clean the remnants of last year’s bounty and make way for what spring had to offer.

Niviene knelt by a flower bed, an empty basket at her side, her pruning shears in her lap as she reached out to touch the dark earth beneath the remains of her garden. She closed her eyes and let the dirt sift between her fingers willing enchantments of health and prosperity into the soil, envisioning large blossoms, flourishing in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the heavy canopy of trees that gave Duskwood its name. She pictured colorful butterflies flitting...