Mud caked itself upon sun-toasted cheeks, smeared to conceal the scent of flowers that drifted from her flesh. Under the night’s embrace she rode, leaving behind her life, the world she built not only for herself, but for her husband, for the future of their family. Memories were forever embedded within her, and that is all she was to have of this union. Behind her was a lie, forged by the manipulations of those she served. She did not know where deceit began or ended, or if this was their gamble all along - control her by any means possible, even if it meant tugging on the strings of her heart like a marionette.
She managed to escape out of her bedroom’s window after the preparations were made to her home. The traps were set and readied for intruders; she knew well they were going to try and seek her here, in her refuge, the only sanctuary she had left. There was nothing left there for them, but personal items of Yvelont’s and her own, her mother’s things. These were just material things in the end, and right now, she could only carry so much. But, the very first thing they would see, was her link pearl, shattered into pieces, across the floor. She destroyed their connection.
Against the wind she rode now, not daring to look back; the winding road was not taken, for she fled under the boughs of trees that hung all too low; their branches appearing like mangled hands as the leaves were plucked from the wood with the change of the season. The hem, of her tattered cloak, whipped violently behind her. Avenger rode hard into the night, masked by the shadows himself; he was a spectre between the trees. She was not seated in the saddle, but hovered whilst leaning over and guiding him over the brush, into the riverbed with a splash. The moonlight ripples in their wake as they beat the shallow depth and make their way toward treacherous, rocky terrain.
At their side, Virgil kept up with the flight of the maiden, who shifts quickly her direction when she noticing patrols ahead, who began to surround the establishment of Buscarron’s, much to her dismay. His words, his face, she would miss it all, the nights of conversation, the information passed. But it was too dangerous to say farewell. It was too much of a risk to see familiar faces. She goes to a place where no one knows, no one cares to explore, deeper into the woodland realm. Under the moss and vines, she slows her pace as the shadows spread like ink across this area, moonlight barely penetrate past the canopies overlapping above.
The cottage was quiet this evening, but light glimmered out from her opened windows. Avenger slows down against the slippery stones that lead her to the threshold. No matter how quiet she was, how silent Virgil padded, a woman opens the door. One who aged well, though it was obvious that she lived many a cycle. Her silver eyes were emptied of light, but she knew Rivienne’s presence before her; her energy was unmistakable.
With one fluid motion, she dismounts and brushes Avenger’s feathered face, thanking him quietly, the courser dipped his head low and breathed deeply; his heart pounded wildly within his chest. Virgil approached the duskwight woman and panted; she offers a gentle pat of the head and turned to the Shroud-maiden, who stepped forward with her head bowed.
“Child..†Her hands sought the curve of Rivienne’s muddied face, readying her expression with a touch. What she found was something empty, devoid of emotion, but her lips, when brushing them, twitched desperately, trying not to curl at the corners into a frown. “Something amiss?â€
“The shadows will not last long, for soon light shall spread across the land, and my presence may not continue here then,†Rivienne’s whispers melted into the air and the winds came at her back, sending the cloak to sway forward, nearly enveloping Marbella, who stared forth at the emptiness of the world before her, yet she could see the patterns of energy surrounding Rivienne, the melancholy of her words, and the heaviness of the situation. This was her farewell. She was leaving.
“You are without your companion?†she said, noticing the lack of a masculine voice and presence; the answer came to her when Rivienne’s face turned away and she tucked her lower lip into her mouth. The act was soundless; no soft sob parted from her, no sigh. She was silent, and that spoke more volumes than anything else. Something happened, and the duskwight turned the maiden to face her.
“I smell not the tears on your face, child, but soon, they shall fall. Soon your heart will come to know pain as it shatters within you. Piece by piece, it will tear away, until you come to know darkness.†She pressed her forehead to her own and continued to speak quietly.
“Not all is lost, not all tears will be wicked ones, for tears shall dry. Your soul shall mend, and this heart of yours will be made anew. Broken things are beautiful, and the scars are meant to be seen. It will be beautiful.†She repeats this and takes a step back, knowing what she could do to assist her. Marbella was a midwife to many a man of the forest, some forgotten the duskwight, but she had not.
“Under the blanket of darkness, your life will be restored, and the forest shall mourn your leave. The wind foretells your farewell. Favors owed shall be repaid this night as the Shroud loses its daughter.â€
She managed to escape out of her bedroom’s window after the preparations were made to her home. The traps were set and readied for intruders; she knew well they were going to try and seek her here, in her refuge, the only sanctuary she had left. There was nothing left there for them, but personal items of Yvelont’s and her own, her mother’s things. These were just material things in the end, and right now, she could only carry so much. But, the very first thing they would see, was her link pearl, shattered into pieces, across the floor. She destroyed their connection.
Against the wind she rode now, not daring to look back; the winding road was not taken, for she fled under the boughs of trees that hung all too low; their branches appearing like mangled hands as the leaves were plucked from the wood with the change of the season. The hem, of her tattered cloak, whipped violently behind her. Avenger rode hard into the night, masked by the shadows himself; he was a spectre between the trees. She was not seated in the saddle, but hovered whilst leaning over and guiding him over the brush, into the riverbed with a splash. The moonlight ripples in their wake as they beat the shallow depth and make their way toward treacherous, rocky terrain.
At their side, Virgil kept up with the flight of the maiden, who shifts quickly her direction when she noticing patrols ahead, who began to surround the establishment of Buscarron’s, much to her dismay. His words, his face, she would miss it all, the nights of conversation, the information passed. But it was too dangerous to say farewell. It was too much of a risk to see familiar faces. She goes to a place where no one knows, no one cares to explore, deeper into the woodland realm. Under the moss and vines, she slows her pace as the shadows spread like ink across this area, moonlight barely penetrate past the canopies overlapping above.
The cottage was quiet this evening, but light glimmered out from her opened windows. Avenger slows down against the slippery stones that lead her to the threshold. No matter how quiet she was, how silent Virgil padded, a woman opens the door. One who aged well, though it was obvious that she lived many a cycle. Her silver eyes were emptied of light, but she knew Rivienne’s presence before her; her energy was unmistakable.
With one fluid motion, she dismounts and brushes Avenger’s feathered face, thanking him quietly, the courser dipped his head low and breathed deeply; his heart pounded wildly within his chest. Virgil approached the duskwight woman and panted; she offers a gentle pat of the head and turned to the Shroud-maiden, who stepped forward with her head bowed.
“Child..†Her hands sought the curve of Rivienne’s muddied face, readying her expression with a touch. What she found was something empty, devoid of emotion, but her lips, when brushing them, twitched desperately, trying not to curl at the corners into a frown. “Something amiss?â€
“The shadows will not last long, for soon light shall spread across the land, and my presence may not continue here then,†Rivienne’s whispers melted into the air and the winds came at her back, sending the cloak to sway forward, nearly enveloping Marbella, who stared forth at the emptiness of the world before her, yet she could see the patterns of energy surrounding Rivienne, the melancholy of her words, and the heaviness of the situation. This was her farewell. She was leaving.
“You are without your companion?†she said, noticing the lack of a masculine voice and presence; the answer came to her when Rivienne’s face turned away and she tucked her lower lip into her mouth. The act was soundless; no soft sob parted from her, no sigh. She was silent, and that spoke more volumes than anything else. Something happened, and the duskwight turned the maiden to face her.
“I smell not the tears on your face, child, but soon, they shall fall. Soon your heart will come to know pain as it shatters within you. Piece by piece, it will tear away, until you come to know darkness.†She pressed her forehead to her own and continued to speak quietly.
“Not all is lost, not all tears will be wicked ones, for tears shall dry. Your soul shall mend, and this heart of yours will be made anew. Broken things are beautiful, and the scars are meant to be seen. It will be beautiful.†She repeats this and takes a step back, knowing what she could do to assist her. Marbella was a midwife to many a man of the forest, some forgotten the duskwight, but she had not.
“Under the blanket of darkness, your life will be restored, and the forest shall mourn your leave. The wind foretells your farewell. Favors owed shall be repaid this night as the Shroud loses its daughter.â€