The uniform was discarded; the emblem, each patch, was torn away. Her flesh was cleaned from mud and grass, any perfume that lingered on her flesh was scrubbed away. Now she stood here, not as a serpent. The mirror reflected the woman stripped of rank, stripped of responsibility. Naked she was and in shame of the painful reminder of what she had become. Scars kissed her flesh and spoke volumes of her past endeavors. Rivienne stared at a reflection that was no longer her own. Gingerly, did her hands come up and brush along sculpted arms, feeling the warmth of her skin. An embrace is given to herself, and for a vulnerable moment, she felt the pieces of her heart begin to peel away. A shudder of breath parts her lips of cherry-hue and she turns away, wishing not to let her gaze linger further still. Marbella, perhaps sensing her dismay, or by sheer coincidence, stepped out from the bedroom with garments held in her hands. Her smile is brittle, a delicate thing that doesn’t remain ever long upon her epicurean features. The Duskwight didn’t need her vision to understand that Rivienne was grateful, though the pain was starting to take its toll. She masked it well, but the elder was no fool.
In silence she dressed herself, with soft fabrics befitting that of a noblewoman. It was made for a day in the spring, instead of a night in autumn, with how it was cut. It exposed her shoulders and slipped down its curvature. The front allowed passage for her legs, though kept her appearance modest, for it stopped before her knees. Billowy enough to move, and conceal her weapons, Marbella chose a dress that was personal for Rivienne, even if she were never to know, that this once belonged to Lady Gabrielle de Marcellus.
Her mother’s garments, from a time before Rivienne drew breath.
Spectres wrapped in cloaks they were, tattered at their hems, with flowers clinging to the ripped fibers. Ghosts among the trees the two of them, venturing down this path seldom traveled, where moonlight dares not to pierce through the canopies. Avenger’s wide stride makes only the sound of decaying leaves being crushed underneath his steps. This winding path soon broke away from the darkness, and autumn was seen on full display with gold and yellow peppering the trees. There were camps here, mostly men that ran from the law, men that Rivienne stood up against. Marbella knew this well, but this was the only choice presented to them, and prayed would be a fruitful gamble.
In the distance they could hear the birds let out their calls of warning; the Earth gave vibrations of hurried movements. Their time was dwindling, and soon night would no longer offer the shelter of darkness. Marbella, along with Virgil, Avenger and Rivienne, wandered further still to where the Wood Wailers neglected their patrol. The smell of burning wood greets their senses and flickers of light splash against the wide trunks of the trees, amber and red colors push back the darkness.
“I had a feeling I would find you here,†Marbella felt the warmth of the flames and, without need for guidance, made her way down the mossy hill to greet a fellow Duskwight, one who stood up suddenly at the sight of the elderly woman and sought her hands. She brushed them away and chuckled; Rivienne did not step into the light and simply waited. While they walked, she spoke of the many children of Twelveswood, those that she helped birth, those who grew up and remember, some have forgotten in time..
.. and there were some that did not make it due to Calamity.
“Marbella, this better be worth rousing me at such late hour, I don’t feel like having to dodge the hateful glares of Wailers thinking I am up to no good,†fingers ran through his silver locks, pushing them away from his face as dark eyes settled upon her features. Crow’s feet formed at the corner of her eyes, a smile spreads, and he soon sees the reason for her beckoning.
Rivienne stepped from the shadows, adorned in her cloak of lace textured like spider’s web. An appreciative smile trailed his lips as light fell upon her features. Golden eyes stared at him, though no hint of emotion touched them. Her red lips were all too inviting and he found himself staring at them as they parted. She was lovely against the warmth of the fire, her skin was aglow, and for a moment.. he thought Marbella had gifted him.
He soon turned to Marbella and chuckled. “My bed is rather cold as of late, what is the reason for such a beautiful pres--†He heard the unsheathing of a weapon, and before he can finish, she was upon him. A blade was produced into the space shared; one hand kept its grip on the handle and the other open against the pommel, ready to slam the blade forward.
Steel pressed firmly to his jugular without a moment’s notice and he could smell the sweetness in her breathe as she leaned to him, threatening to prick his flesh. Their eyes met and he halted his breathing for a heartbeat. His reaction is initially shock, and before it could boil to anger, Marbella’s hand rises gently and takes Rivienne’s wrist.
“She needs your help,†the Duskwight softly whispers, hoping to gain control of the situation before the maiden decides to use force. At times, solution is best not found at the end of a blade.
“What sort of help,†he reached for his neck, checking to see if she had pierced skin or not. His eyes looked her over, seeing her in a different light.
“Freedom is sought by river, mine passage shall be paid,†Rivienne whispered as the blade is secured upon her thigh once more, only hidden by a thin layer of fabric. He knits his brows, but would bite his tongue. Ignorance, in some situations, was indeed bliss. The way the woman dressed, the deadly precision and swiftness of her would-be-attack, hinted that she was more trouble than it was worth already.
“Pray tell, why should I help you?†He gave a glare to Marbella, who could not see his expression, but knew he was not all too pleased.
In return she smiled, the elderly woman reached to cup his cheek gently. “I helped birth you, but she will be the one to end you. Give her passage, and all your debts shall be paid to me.â€
He took her hands and moved them away before groaning. Tilting his head back, he shook it and chuckled, “..For you, midwife. Just for you.â€
In silence she dressed herself, with soft fabrics befitting that of a noblewoman. It was made for a day in the spring, instead of a night in autumn, with how it was cut. It exposed her shoulders and slipped down its curvature. The front allowed passage for her legs, though kept her appearance modest, for it stopped before her knees. Billowy enough to move, and conceal her weapons, Marbella chose a dress that was personal for Rivienne, even if she were never to know, that this once belonged to Lady Gabrielle de Marcellus.
Her mother’s garments, from a time before Rivienne drew breath.
Spectres wrapped in cloaks they were, tattered at their hems, with flowers clinging to the ripped fibers. Ghosts among the trees the two of them, venturing down this path seldom traveled, where moonlight dares not to pierce through the canopies. Avenger’s wide stride makes only the sound of decaying leaves being crushed underneath his steps. This winding path soon broke away from the darkness, and autumn was seen on full display with gold and yellow peppering the trees. There were camps here, mostly men that ran from the law, men that Rivienne stood up against. Marbella knew this well, but this was the only choice presented to them, and prayed would be a fruitful gamble.
In the distance they could hear the birds let out their calls of warning; the Earth gave vibrations of hurried movements. Their time was dwindling, and soon night would no longer offer the shelter of darkness. Marbella, along with Virgil, Avenger and Rivienne, wandered further still to where the Wood Wailers neglected their patrol. The smell of burning wood greets their senses and flickers of light splash against the wide trunks of the trees, amber and red colors push back the darkness.
“I had a feeling I would find you here,†Marbella felt the warmth of the flames and, without need for guidance, made her way down the mossy hill to greet a fellow Duskwight, one who stood up suddenly at the sight of the elderly woman and sought her hands. She brushed them away and chuckled; Rivienne did not step into the light and simply waited. While they walked, she spoke of the many children of Twelveswood, those that she helped birth, those who grew up and remember, some have forgotten in time..
.. and there were some that did not make it due to Calamity.
“Marbella, this better be worth rousing me at such late hour, I don’t feel like having to dodge the hateful glares of Wailers thinking I am up to no good,†fingers ran through his silver locks, pushing them away from his face as dark eyes settled upon her features. Crow’s feet formed at the corner of her eyes, a smile spreads, and he soon sees the reason for her beckoning.
Rivienne stepped from the shadows, adorned in her cloak of lace textured like spider’s web. An appreciative smile trailed his lips as light fell upon her features. Golden eyes stared at him, though no hint of emotion touched them. Her red lips were all too inviting and he found himself staring at them as they parted. She was lovely against the warmth of the fire, her skin was aglow, and for a moment.. he thought Marbella had gifted him.
He soon turned to Marbella and chuckled. “My bed is rather cold as of late, what is the reason for such a beautiful pres--†He heard the unsheathing of a weapon, and before he can finish, she was upon him. A blade was produced into the space shared; one hand kept its grip on the handle and the other open against the pommel, ready to slam the blade forward.
Steel pressed firmly to his jugular without a moment’s notice and he could smell the sweetness in her breathe as she leaned to him, threatening to prick his flesh. Their eyes met and he halted his breathing for a heartbeat. His reaction is initially shock, and before it could boil to anger, Marbella’s hand rises gently and takes Rivienne’s wrist.
“She needs your help,†the Duskwight softly whispers, hoping to gain control of the situation before the maiden decides to use force. At times, solution is best not found at the end of a blade.
“What sort of help,†he reached for his neck, checking to see if she had pierced skin or not. His eyes looked her over, seeing her in a different light.
“Freedom is sought by river, mine passage shall be paid,†Rivienne whispered as the blade is secured upon her thigh once more, only hidden by a thin layer of fabric. He knits his brows, but would bite his tongue. Ignorance, in some situations, was indeed bliss. The way the woman dressed, the deadly precision and swiftness of her would-be-attack, hinted that she was more trouble than it was worth already.
“Pray tell, why should I help you?†He gave a glare to Marbella, who could not see his expression, but knew he was not all too pleased.
In return she smiled, the elderly woman reached to cup his cheek gently. “I helped birth you, but she will be the one to end you. Give her passage, and all your debts shall be paid to me.â€
He took her hands and moved them away before groaning. Tilting his head back, he shook it and chuckled, “..For you, midwife. Just for you.â€