RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes

Lady Rivienne · **09-08-2014, 09:31 PM**

"Release her," the sharp tone rang into the air and the Dravanian complied, after he picked himself off the ground. His glare was set and her luminous eyes stared forth, unmoved. Still reeling from the initial shock, the huntress sank into her thoughts and attempted to make sense of this. However, the only person who could explain this to her, had turned her back. Chaffed wrists felt the sting that mingled with relief when they were freed from the shackles. If the man could, he would have spat in her very face to waken her from that stupor she was now ensnared in.

But, Rivienne didn't need his assistance, her mother's voice snapped her back to this unsavory reality. She fell silent while hearing the words sink into this frigid ambient.

"Were you trying to seek me?" The touch of sweetness could not overpower the cruelty that dribbled from her voice.

"Mother," the word is foreign and thoughts of her mother's jubilant face dissolved to nothingness. "Not intentionally, I believed you were dead, yet here you are. Made of flesh, and in the company of these --" Rivienne curled her fingers into the leather adorning her palms, so much that there came a sound of supplication from them. Golden eyes turned to the beasts, as if daring the cloaked wyverns to take offense.

"Speak not another word, child, for they were far more accepting than those of our very ilk. Do you know why I am here?" From her crown of chestnut, Rivienne saw her regal profile, and the gold of her eyes, which illuminated in the darkness that encompassing them.

"Carvallain spoke of dreaded dragons wreaking havoc, ripping his men in two. Of their bones littering the snow, of blood painted over white." The disgust in her voice was apparent as she approached quickly with long strides, though this alerted the Dravanians, who growled and readied themselves to break away from the glamour placed. It hardly stops the Elezen, who reached for the slender arm of the other woman, one whom she hardly could recognize. Her mother slowly turned to face her and rose a hand up, as to halt the potential attack that would have befallen Rivienne.

"What has turned your heart to ash, so much that you would become a heretic yourself, have you gone mad? Is this not your land? For what purpose did you come here?" The desire to know some answers was clearly painted on that canvas of emotion. Her grip was strong, as if her mother would slip from her grasp, again, for another decade.

Why did you turn your back on us, why did you abandon the family that loved you so?

All for the desire for power? To what gain?

Her inner thoughts were never voiced.

"So it was Carvallain again," she chuckled and reached for her daughter's face, cupping her bronzed flesh into her fingers. "Not only did he recruit Marceloix, but you as well. Slowly, he turns my blood against me. But, we can change this. He wished to avenge the shame I caused his family. I had to protect my children, I did what must be done. Your brother did not understand that. But you will, won't you, my beautiful bird?" Liquid gold bore into Rivienne's gaze, which widened at the mention of her brother's name. A violent shudder ran its course through her and his name spilled from her lips quietly; it was a name that carved itself into her heart.

And I know what took his life, the very source you now will be seeking for me..

Carvallain's words resonate in the alcove of her mind; the source he spoke of was staring right into her very eyes. Digits loosened around her mother's limb and Rivienne felt her legs weaken underneath her frame. Her resolve was rattled, and for this very moment, she wished that his name was never mentioned, to remain ignorant to his passing. Ah, but fate was but a cruel mistress, and Rivienne was to be punished.

Finding strength in her legs, she began to step away from Gabrielle's elegant form, searching the dark for the Dravanian assailants. Agonizing pain struck the core of her heart; teeth clenched as she now stared forward in disbelief. She barely could recognize the words that spilled from her lips. "You killed him. You killed your own son."

Gabrielle didn't appear taken aback by Rivienne's revelation, in fact, she smiled and placed her hands over her bosom. "He was freed from his mortal bonds, but remains here. I had little choice, he would not listen to reason," she moved toward the far end of the wall, where sheets had been bundled up. Pinching the fabric, there is glance made to the huntress as the material is pulled away, revealing the remains of someone.

"He wanted freedom, I delivered it."

Her brother's skeleton was yet adorned in armaments, and his skull was upturn, as if searching the rocky ceiling..

.. as if seeking the Fury's embrace.

Lady Rivienne · **09-12-2014, 02:17 PM**

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Her laughter rang in the air as Virgil barked at her, trying to demonstrate how to properly dig! As if she had not known, after all, she knew how to tend a garden. Her gloves were dirtied as she mimics his paws, digging a hole into their flower bed together. "You are quite the partner," she spoke between chuckles whilst taking a hold of the small crate full of seeds. "When the season changes, we will have lovely flowers ready to be plucked. I am sure they would enjoy the smell of simpler times," the words were spoken into the wind that now brushed along her features. Tresses, spun in golden chestnut, billowed behind her delicate visage. She was but a few years into womanhood, a picture of beauty unmarred, and untouched, by the world beyond this forest. Round cheeks were prominent, due to her widening smile at the pup who helped kick soil to the seed she planted.

Summer was nearly at an end and her excitement was ever growing. They promised to return, as they always did, to welcome the change. Flowers would soon adorn the vast space of their home and perfume will grace the halls. Many talks of their adventures will fill her ears and the nights would seem endless as they sung of them. The thought itself sent warmth to spread in her heart, reaching her soft cheeks easily.

"Come now, seems you may need a bath and," Rivienne looked over herself with a cringe. Her trousers had been smudged by the Earth and grass, perspiration dribbled down her brow and neck. When Virgil turned his head to her, the young lass knew that her scent was perhaps not all too pleasant downhill. ".. I am in need of one as well."

The crate is forgotten quickly as she gathered Virgil into her arms and laughed as his tongue brushed at her face affectionately. Soft hums escaped her lips when entering the side door, where she immediately removed her muddied boots and settled the pup to the ground. Suspenders were pulled from her shoulders and the gloves were casually set aside on the small table, littered now with gardening tools. Curtains had been pulled back to receive the glory of the sun's rays as they lance through the grass. The smell of tea was prominent in the air, for it was about that time of day that she sat and took a moment for herself. The kettle had been put on before she tended to her garden. Weapons lined the walls, finding no room in the racks. Bows were hung high on the walls, where only one, with a stature like herself, could reach. Leather and flowers made up the main room, where stories were shared. Masculinity, and femininity, found balance here.

Keeping herself busied she rounded the corner of her small hall and happen to catch sight of something outside of her windows. There were two chocobos, in barding, a few fulms from the front of her home. Golden eyes were widened with excitement and she quickly began to smooth out her attire. They had come home earlier than expected and oh the elation she felt. Rivienne rushed to the mirror and quickly brushed the stains of dirt from her cheeks and forehead, trying to appear less disheveled. Yet, she knew her brothers would care less for her presentation. The knock on the door roused her from her reflection and her heart was now caught in her throat! Biting at her lower lip, she rushed to the door without hesitation and swung it open!

"Marce --" She words stopped short when a pair of gallant knights stood before her, looking down at Rivienne with lack of emotion gracing their features. She desperately attempts to look past their shoulders, but they crowded her threshold. "Sirs," she whispered softly and bows her head lightly in greeting. But, when rising fully, her eyes darted about, seeking out the surprise she was to receive. Surely, Marceloix and Louix had something up their sleeves, they were known to give her a scare when returning.

"M'lady Delacroux, I wished not to give you a startle," one of them placed his steel-wrapped hand to his chest and bowed his head in return. Rivienne wore a perplexed expression and shook her head.

"Nay, it is quite all right, I was far too quick to open the door without inquiring who it was. Alas, you know of my name, how did such pass your lips without me having knowledge of who you are? But pay little heed to my suspicions, I was expecting others. They would not take kind to handsome men at my doorstep. If you are searching for them, however, their return is imminent." Rivienne held the door, as if to slowly shut it just as Virgil came close and began to sniff at their greaves.

One of the men turned on his heel and walked to his chocobo, which carried much of their belongings, from what she could gather. Curiously, she watched him and turned to the knight who was still standing at the door, staring down at her, never removing his gaze from her form. It was unnerving to be under his scrutinizing gaze, so much that she felt it was best to close the door, now. But, as she made the motion to do so, his gauntlet shot out before her and he made sure the door was kept ajar.

"What is thine purpose? I spoke that they are not present," there was a flash of defiance in her gaze and annoyance in her voice, but it did little to encourage their leave; the second knight had returned to stand at the side of the other, presenting to her a bundle wrapped in a cloak. The insignia would forever burn in her memory.

A step was taken back and she chuckled, "This is some sort of trick, speak quickly, where is Marceloix? Is he hiding behind thee somewhere?" Rivienne began to search once more, but found that no other chocobo stood, no laughter came from these men. Their eyes are downcast as the man holds out the bundle for her to take. Both of their heads bow, allowing dark hair to conceal their features.

"M'lady, you have our condolences, I come with ill news.." His voice was low as he began to speak to her.

"No.."

"That Ser Marceloix Delacroux of House Marcellus.."

"No.."

She forced herself to step back once more, repelling the object presented. Her hands are placed before her, as if to push it away. She did not wish to hear anymore and pointed to where their chocobos awaited them. But, they ignored it.

"Has fallen, his last breath was but a moon ago. All that is left, it is what we present to you. He rests in the Fury's embrace."

Reality, this was her reality. All the joy she harbored crashed down at her feet and shattered like glass. Golden eyes, oh how they stared forward, not wanting to accept the words that came from their lips. Anger bubbled and spewed out with her words. "Such trickery is cruel! Take thine leave! I await them soon." Denial, it was but the first step, to push aside every painful feeling she had now gnawing away at her heart. There was numbness in her limbs as she watched the knight fall to his knee and unravel the bundle before her.

The fabric peeled away, exposing the broken javelin; made undone was the weapon, battered and snapped in two. Now it rests against the cloak that once adorned his back. She watched it flutter that day, against the warm winds of the summer, as he said farewell and promised to return. That summer, he wore a smile that summer day.

The whistle of the kettle did little to stir her from this stupor.

She lost her breath and felt every part of her being ripped asunder in pain. Virgil quickly rushed to her side and barked, trying to snap her from a memory she was clinging to, but to what avail? It was a sweet memory, now stained by reality. Her knees slammed down when she fell to the floorboards and extended her hand over the cluster offered. From the basin of her eyes, tears spilled hot against her cheeks and she felt little shame in letting out a cry that came from her very core. No perfume would line her halls, no laughter would resonate into the air. Her despair clung to the air as her tears freely littered the floor. No comfort had come to her that day, for the knights could offer little and allowed her to take the parcel completely. Rivienne's summer had come to an end.

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Lady Rivienne · **09-19-2014, 12:02 PM**

Bile.

It burned her as it bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. She had not eaten, and perhaps it was a godsend, for she heaved and spilled contents upon the cavern's floor. Her knees pressed together and she struggled for support against the jagged wall as golden eyes stared at her leather-clad feet. The memory jarred her, but not more than seeing the defiled bones of her brother, not at rest.

The laughter that rose in the air held little remorse, nor concern, for Rivienne's well being. She was amused, her mother, with the fact that her little unveiling had such a response. This only fueled the loathing that began to spread like a plague within her; the entire dilemma enmeshed her mind, body and soul. Ah, but it was not just her voice that filled the air, the low rumble soon replaced any surly sound her mother could have conjured.

From within the deep recesses, of this wretched grotto, groans penetrated the air. Dark magic was at work, foul enough to leave her mouth with a taste far worse than the vomit that lingered on her tongue. Rivienne slowly gathered the remainder of her strength and shut away the world around her. The grotesque sounds fell to deaf ears; laughter faded into the very void of darkness surrounding Gabrielle.

This moment would define the woman Rivienne tried to avoid becoming, the woman fueled by martyrdom. .

The woman she needed to be at this very moment.

Words had little meaning, she had been done with speaking, for such would be a waste of breath. Rivienne saw the world for what it was, a cruel jest. The man she sought to find answers for rests with his jaw agape; the woman she looked to was a mockery of love and a vessel of malice, and these Dravanians wished nothing but to end her life. Then so be it.

Finding strength, her body twists with a spin of her heel and she breaks into a sprint toward the nearest, glamoured, wyvern. The one that had her bound. With a serpent's precision, her arm rose and an open palm reached for the back of his head. Her mother let's out a shrilling cry to alert him, but it was all for naught. Fingers dug into his scalp, and a free hand claimed the blade in his grasp, by the steel edge. The cry of surprise was but music to this song bird, who harbored little emotion in her gaze, whilst standing with her knee to his back now. His hair was twisted into her grasp, forcing him to bend back to her strength. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, but his gaze was soon directed to the wall, that came to greet his face. Rivienne bashed his head a few times into the ridged, wall of stone, until pulp made up his countenance.

The sword was let free, at the same time, his body dropped forward, falling against the crimson streaked surface. Rivienne, who never handled such a heavy blade, found endurance to carry it. The dance of chaos now filled this frigid hall, and the participants of this waltz were all in place. Rivienne could see Avenger trying to fight his way free and avoid injury, though he was outnumbered and would soon fall if it was not for her interference. Thinking little of her own well being, she kicked aside the fallen body and ran, with blade in hand, to the back of one who raised his own sword and was to strike down her companion.

Metal sought an area not concealed by armaments, the back of the neck. With both hands upon the grip, the bowmaiden comes to an abrupt stop and places the blade above her head. Swiftly, it delivers death through the back of his skull and applies force to ensure the blade sees light on the other side.

Lady Rivienne · **10-03-2014, 02:50 PM**

Red, the color of passion..
..the color of life and death.

Against her lean frame, splashes of color paint her leather bindings and vestments. Her face was smeared with the essence of the men that were impaled by the blade she twisted in her grasp. The bodies dropped in her malevolent dance of destruction and she cared little of how they came to an end, as long as they were dead. Emotion had drained from her features and she acted without a single remorseful thought; she was a shell of flesh delivering retribution.

The small group, which held Avenger hostage, soon found their bodies upon the unforgiving, frigid, Earth. Blood had pooled underneath them, tainting stone and dirt with red. The bird, who was in a mode of panic, fluttered his wings high, sending cool air to whip against the Elezen's soiled face. His attempt to bring her to her senses failed, for she whistled sharply and pointed to the gaping maw of the cave, where light pierced through. Her order was not to be questioned and, though hesitant he was to leave, Avenger was given little choice in the matter. His dark eyes met the pools of gold, eyes once filled with vigor, hinted at a ravine where she stored the pain fueling her actions.

"Your body.."

The blade fell from her callused fingers and clattered loudly to the ground, but not enough to drown the sound of chanting that echoed throughout this boreal chamber. Her mother gathered the remaining aether from the fallen bodies, and nearly as soon as they fell to their deaths, their bodies were languidly becoming animated, like puppets, once more. She was pulling the strings. Rivienne saw, past the tall frame of the female Elezen, the skeletal remains of her sibling trembling as she stirred it to life. It was mortifying, seeing the one so dear to you, soulless.

"..is meant to know suffering, many loses and few wins."

Malicious words warped the air around her; everything felt darker, heavier, and noxious. Her lips part and a smile spreads slowly 'pon them. The situation was not in the least humorous, yet she found delight that she had life still, and had energy to launch herself forward. Strong legs push forth with a sprint toward the first body she had slain, now fully erect. All the while, the magic gathered from her mother, was not only managing to manipulate this corpses, but it stirred to life the very threat that Carvallain worried about. The dragon, whose sinew hung to its yet wet bones, was rising to his feet. The odor grew stronger and heavy steps resound into the air; it was coming closer all too quickly.

"My songbird, dearest sister.." His voice was in the fog of her memories, whispering into her psyche.

She quickly tackled down the walking dead, pushing all of her weight upon it, and reached for the dagger he had taken from her whilst unconscious. Snapping her head up, Rivienne put the dagger between her lips and took a fistful of hair, only to make sure she bashed his disfigured face, into the stone ground. This was only to give him pause, as she pushed off his back and rushed forward to the woman who had turned away from her. Beautiful hair danced whimsically behind her slender frame as she conducted her ritual. Arms were spread out, welcoming the dragon that was causing the cave itself to tremble; debris began to fall over them. It did not put a damper on the advances of the dead behind her.

Her mother had little time to realize that it was all to late when her eyes met the ravenous gold depths that sought death. Strong fingers had sought her neck and dug into the flesh, digging deeply. This disrupted her concentration and she struggled to breath as Rivienne pulled her mother's body back into her frame. Eyes widened as they sought the dragon and she reached out for it as life was being choked out of her. Nails pierced the first layer of flesh, and like talons, threatening to tear her throat out. A feral snarl left Rivienne's lips as she heard her mother gasp in pain and attempt to speak to her.

"Rivienne. . Juliette.."

She forcefully shoved her to the ground as the bodies encircled them, even that of Marceloix, which devoid of life, rose to assault her. Danielle's body crumbled immediately from the impact as her head hit the ground hard, blurring her vision. Immediately, Rivienne was on top of her, legs straddling her chest, knees pinning down her arms and digging into them. The huntress stared down at the contorted face of torment underneath her. Blood trickled from where she punctured, the same blood that ran through Rivienne's own veins. She smelled it in the air, tasted it on her lips as she bled too. Labored breaths came from the woman and a few gasps of air, but the huntress was not going to let her find reprieve. The dagger was freed from betwixt her teeth by a free hand. Shuffling feet, loud growls and steel unsheathed, become the symphony of this closing act.

Tucking her thumb underneath her jaw, she pulled back her mother's head and leaned close, biting the air between them. Exposing her neck, she placed the tip of the blade to the very center, but her mother was not giving up yet. Her eyes were widened like a mad woman, perhaps mirroring the look now worn across the hunter's visage. Blood was spat into Rivienne's face, nearly hitting her eye, as words scornfully filled her ears. Her pulse throbs at the very words.

"He spoke your name..but you are no songbird.."

"..but a bird of prey." Rivienne concluded as steel sinks through, tearing away at the layer of flesh, striking true when ripping into the larynx. The gruesome sound was enough to cause gooseflesh, if she was not a woman accustomed to such a sinful melody. Using both hands, she took a grip of the dagger's hilt and pushed down fully, until it impaled her completely.

Lady Rivienne · **10-03-2014, 04:37 PM**

For a long moment, the world around her melted into ebon nothingness and she was left with just the display of death, by her hands, underneath her frame. With mouth agape, the disgraceful death of her mother was a definite eye sore. Her blood covered her hands completely and sank into the leather she wore. She felt nothing at first, simply stared while pushing down on the lifeless arms and slowly standing up. Her knees shudder, threatening to let her fall over, but Rivienne mustered what little energy she had left to take a step back, a few more soon after, until she cleared space betwixt she and the fallen body of her mother. The shuffling had come to a stop around her, bodies had fallen, no longer tethered to the power woven into the dark air. Disheveled tresses were plastered to her face as beads of sweat had peppered her forehead and ran down her temples. Weary eyes turned to the bow that was taken from her, which was piled up with her satchel, turned inside out, and a broken quiver that was dormant next to it.

A story of bloodshed lined the walls and painted the floor, she was certain her own was mingled with that of these heretics. Rivienne felt exhaustion clinging to her appendages, but found strength to move forward, to not turn and look at her mother again. To leave that image behind along with that of Marceloix. But, the scene will haunt her, even now, she could still see his skull tilted as if he was crying out to the heavens, or begging forgiveness. Rivienne wished not to think of it while adrenaline left her body and lethargy took its toll.

What of the dragon, the one that came from the dark, the one that had been walking to them the whole time? He was there yet, stilled after Danielle had fallen, but very much active he was, watching his prey, the one that freed him, now grow weak with each step taken. She had not forgotten about it in her moment of self-awareness. Rivienne was coming to terms with what had taken place, of how her hand was the demise of a woman she loved, respected. A woman she no longer could recognize. A life shrouded in deceit, entwined by lies. It ended with a blade. But that blade was not going to stop the menace that slowly crept closer, jaws divorced as if readying a cry to blow out her eardrums. The huntress gathered her bow, at last, and swept up an arrow that spilled out of the quiver. She turned to the dragon as shadows melted away from its monumental form and it descended upon her.

"Come then," she breathed out the words and gave a broken smile. If this was to be her fate, then let her die with Marceloix's bow in hand. A lover left her, a mother betrayed her, her hands were caked in blood. What she had left was pride in and had no qualms in dying, especially this day. Her brothers were waiting for her. A thought that carried her through desperate moments. She chuckled dryly, remembering that an old friend asked if she sought death, to write her story in blood. She would not deny it now.

Elongated ears burned when an unfamiliar sound came from the opening of the cave, and though she had a hard time distinguishing it from friend or foe, she came to realize that what was coming toward her were not the same men that had kept her hostage. Their armor glittered in what little light fell from them. They hurried in as she glanced past her shoulder, not batting a lash at the huntress as they leap over the dead bodies and head straight to the menace before her.

Their swords were withdrawn, and like the mighty soldiers they were, they began to fight back the dragon that was now giving them an onslaught that would leave a few with serious injuries, if not dead. Rivienne was dumbfounded, for these men were not sent from Haurchefant, he knew not of what was taking place here. These were Carvallain's own. Her deed was done, let these men, full of strength and power, bring down the beast. She had eradicated the source of all his problems. Or so she believed.

"Glory is yours," Rivienne whispered as they marched past her and she reached to take a few arrows in her hands, along with the emptied satchel. Bitterly, she smiled and felt the tears grow hot in the basin of her eyes. The levee within had broken and emotions poured forth to swallow her thoughts whole. She bites back the desire to let out a sob, instead holding it back while pulling the leather strap, of her satchel over her shoulder. Slowly, she straightened herself up and turned to face the light at the end of the cavern. She was to greet it, to be free of here.

Thwack!

Air was pulled from her lungs and she staggered back from the force of the impact. Golden eyes looked forward frantically, catching sight of the two men, the detour to freedom was caused by one of their arrows. A thick arrow made its home above her breast, leaving her in a state of shock for a moment as she came to terms that she was shot. This was no mistake, for these bowmen could have easily targeted the dragon. No sound for mercy, no cry, had fallen from her lips as she tried to find ground underneath her feet. Life stirred in her arms, however, and she notched one of the arrows.

They readied themselves to assault once more when noticing she had not gone down, the wretched woman still was on two legs. It was then that she cried out and lifted her bow, steadying herself as her screams encouraged her to fight back. Her parched throat ached, but it mattered not, she was slowly being numbed by the rancor spreading within.

Carvallain betrayed her, too.

Her arrow is ready and it takes flight as she finds strength to take aim and let it soar to the chest of one of the archers. He staggered back from the impact and dropped his weapon. But, as soon as it is released, she nearly loses footing when another arrow finds its home in her abdomen. It was then that her lips parted to give voice to the painful hiss and she struggled to draw breath. They were wearing her down more than she had been and her body could no longer take any more of the abuse. Poison had laced the arrow's head and the agent's venom was dispersing throughout her core. It was then, that Rivienne, sister to the fallen warrior Marceloix, decided that she was not to leave this world alone.

Rivienne's labored breath were painful and her arm shook as she tried to take aim with the bow. Her legs parted and she swayed while struggling to fill her lungs with air. The arrow is notched, but before she could let it meet its mark, the archer is attacked from behind by another assailant. She did not see the face, for darkness had already began to welcome her into its chilly embrace with each breath. The bow slips from her fingers, and soon, the arrow follows suit. This beaten body shuffles, like the dead had been, backwards against the jagged wall where she was once held. Soon, her legs find that they no longer can hold her upright, and she slides down, unceremoniously, to the ground. Fingers sought the arrows, brushing at the shaft lightly but she could not take a grip.

She could no longer feel it.

Seated there, as her life slips from her, Rivienne turned to the body of her mother, to the remains of her brother and watches the color red spread like a plague, until her eyelids descend and she can no longer hear the music of combat.

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RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes