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Sweat gleamed on Anstarra's skin.
It was pretty skin, tan, unmarred by scars, and look how it sheathed her muscles! On display, toned and hard, as she drew the string on her bow for the thousandth time today (give or take), sighted the training dummy, and let fly.
She missed. The arrow slammed into the wall of the house, making her wince. She paused... and sagged in relief. No outcry. Impaling someone through a wall would have ruined her day. Well, more so.
Distracted by her own reflection in the window. Anstarra snorted, shaking her head, mocking herself inside it. So vain! Looking at her skin and muscles.
"Good thing they make you cover your tits in the Goblet," the Seeker muttered. Thinking of her own looks.. or maybe it was those of her fiancée. In the tinted window, after all, An had darker skin, and the same snow-white hair. That was fair. There were worse distractions. Like thinking of the Sylphlands.
It was dark, as it always was in this part of the Shroud. Dark for the Shroud, even, and since it was, you know, called THE SHROUD that should tell you something. Times like these Anstarra might have wished for a Keeper's night vision, but she made do. The deep shades of purple and red most prevalent in this area served her for camouflage as well, once her bright hair and fur were covered, and no one had ever accused sylphs of being particularly percep-
CRACK
Daze, confusion, deafness and blindness and raw agony, the sense of dragging away, the smell of burned fur. Shock. She was in shock. Had BEEN shocked. Thunder? Had one of their casters seen her? Looking back, sight returning - how long? - she felt her eyes widen, at the crater...
She wiped the sweat from her brow, whitest hair with the ubiquitous blue highlights clinging to her. Eyes of aquamarine narrowed a fraction as she drew the bow once more. The composite creaked, the sound making her feline ear twitch, so close, so distinct.
Release!
The weapon leapt in her hand, shuddering. She liked that. Liked it even more when the broad-head slammed into the post, making it thrum with the impact. Tail lashing in satisfaction, she sauntered over, to recover the last ten she'd loosed.
It wasn't like she was afraid. Just.. rationally cautious. Anyone would be.
"Yes, who is this?" Female voice, somewhat impatient, annoyed at being disturbed.
"It's me..."
"An? What is it? What is that static?"
"I.. I think I got hit by lightning again, Barb. I was scouting.. and.."
"Scouting? On your OWN again? You fool girl! Where!"
"I'm sorry.. ah.. Sylphlands.. I can't, um.. can't really move.. and I think my mask is stuck to.. to my face... I think I need help."
"Damn it, An. Fine, I'm coming!"
Hand dropped from face, brushing the mask again... everything tingling, numb, the piece of neo-Allagan technology half-charred, the moving parts not moving so much right now. She couldn't tell if it was fused to her face or just locked down, everything hurt...
People learned from their mistakes, after all. It was a core aspect of intelligence, and Anstarra did not believe herself lacking in that trait. Witness, for example, how she had moved so that subsequent arrows would not slam into the house if she missed. Maybe the stables. They were dirty anyway.
She leaned on the post, gaze flicking sideways to admire her reflection as she pulled out the arrow. Laughter spilling from her lips once more. She wasn't this vain! A fine sight, though. Pity no one was looking. Or were they? Idly, she turned, sweeping her regard over the neighboring environs, adjusting her white tank top as she did. She might as well not wear the damned thing, in this heat, you could see her bra RIGHT through it when she sweated...
"Tsk. Could you be more obvious? Stupid girl!" She shook her head, fitting arrows back into quiver as she padded out to range once more. Distracting. Anything not to think of her little problem.
Static poured and coursed over her, little arcs of visible electricity joining her with carpet, with table, with doorknob. Quick, brief touches, her body on autopilot with the walking and the light, deliberate motions. Careful, careful. She couldn't feel anything. Verad stared, asking something, and she barely heard it.
"Orb in the basement. Shocked me."
Her own voice, she must've said the words, for he winced; her own ears were still ringing. Right, right, outside. Outside so as not to burn or break things. Others were there, these days the Keepers, the Shroud Wolves, they were here all the time. Someone said something, and some others stared at her. Her nerves were crackling, purple hues in her hair falling in her eyes.
Oh, a bench. Maybe if she gripped it, she could safely discharge some of the...
She leaned back against the bench, the newer one. It hadn't been all bad, that time. She'd met Nihka from it, actually. Cracking her neck, she set the bow down, and the quiver, contemplating the training dummy. Not the same as a moving target, let alone one that fought back, but there was something to be said for mindlessly training... which she'd not done since becoming, ah, unable, to use a spear.
Had she held thought at bay with training back then, as well? Oh yes, definitely. Was that one of the side-effects? Or deliberate, part of the brainwashing? Had they been taught to fight so that they would not think? It seemed plausible. Certainly there was a rush in the physical, she knew all her kinsmen felt it; the pleasure parts of her brain seemed to get almost as strongly dialed up by combat and killing as by sex.
Maybe another association was forming. Why else would she keep throwing herself into these situations?
Staring at the Orb, the lightning in it dancing as though eager to get at her, feeling the heat and rage and fear dancing and thrumming in her veins. Gifts of corrupted aether. It could work. Displace, saturate, replace. Lightning, why not? Purple hair, instead of blood's red. But it would hurt. Azeyma would it hurt. She didn't like pain, not like that. But she didn't like this corruption either.
She waffled, and snarled, and tensed, and then with Spahro's taunts ringing in her ears, she leapt-
CRACK
It couldn't be that she enjoyed it. That was rank madness. But... was it? Though her whole sept bore cold in their bones, had she not always somehow... also leaned toward the embrace of lightning? Certainly it leapt out to greet her as few other aetherial manifestations did, like an old, tirelessly eager lover.
And then, there was that blessing, that relic that almost had to be Lord Ramuh's gift...
Anstarra shook herself. Gathering up her weapons, her towel and her outer shirt, she headed inside. It was time for a hot bath, and to relax, and consider that maybe, just maybe she was not as internally upset as she should be - despite getting essentially hit by lightning four times in the past two turns - by Nihka's morning comment that she hoped to go to the Sylphlands, along with Kiht (and herself, obviously), to find what they needed to save those two men. The last stone.
A worthy cause. Into the lands of the Lord of Levin and lightning, where she had not returned since the second time she was smote by the sky's fire. And thinking on hazarding it again, now... her tail lifted, and twitched.
No, not upset. Maybe the opposite.
And that thought alone, was rather shocking.
It was pretty skin, tan, unmarred by scars, and look how it sheathed her muscles! On display, toned and hard, as she drew the string on her bow for the thousandth time today (give or take), sighted the training dummy, and let fly.
She missed. The arrow slammed into the wall of the house, making her wince. She paused... and sagged in relief. No outcry. Impaling someone through a wall would have ruined her day. Well, more so.
Distracted by her own reflection in the window. Anstarra snorted, shaking her head, mocking herself inside it. So vain! Looking at her skin and muscles.
"Good thing they make you cover your tits in the Goblet," the Seeker muttered. Thinking of her own looks.. or maybe it was those of her fiancée. In the tinted window, after all, An had darker skin, and the same snow-white hair. That was fair. There were worse distractions. Like thinking of the Sylphlands.
It was dark, as it always was in this part of the Shroud. Dark for the Shroud, even, and since it was, you know, called THE SHROUD that should tell you something. Times like these Anstarra might have wished for a Keeper's night vision, but she made do. The deep shades of purple and red most prevalent in this area served her for camouflage as well, once her bright hair and fur were covered, and no one had ever accused sylphs of being particularly percep-
CRACK
Daze, confusion, deafness and blindness and raw agony, the sense of dragging away, the smell of burned fur. Shock. She was in shock. Had BEEN shocked. Thunder? Had one of their casters seen her? Looking back, sight returning - how long? - she felt her eyes widen, at the crater...
She wiped the sweat from her brow, whitest hair with the ubiquitous blue highlights clinging to her. Eyes of aquamarine narrowed a fraction as she drew the bow once more. The composite creaked, the sound making her feline ear twitch, so close, so distinct.
Release!
The weapon leapt in her hand, shuddering. She liked that. Liked it even more when the broad-head slammed into the post, making it thrum with the impact. Tail lashing in satisfaction, she sauntered over, to recover the last ten she'd loosed.
It wasn't like she was afraid. Just.. rationally cautious. Anyone would be.
"Yes, who is this?" Female voice, somewhat impatient, annoyed at being disturbed.
"It's me..."
"An? What is it? What is that static?"
"I.. I think I got hit by lightning again, Barb. I was scouting.. and.."
"Scouting? On your OWN again? You fool girl! Where!"
"I'm sorry.. ah.. Sylphlands.. I can't, um.. can't really move.. and I think my mask is stuck to.. to my face... I think I need help."
"Damn it, An. Fine, I'm coming!"
Hand dropped from face, brushing the mask again... everything tingling, numb, the piece of neo-Allagan technology half-charred, the moving parts not moving so much right now. She couldn't tell if it was fused to her face or just locked down, everything hurt...
People learned from their mistakes, after all. It was a core aspect of intelligence, and Anstarra did not believe herself lacking in that trait. Witness, for example, how she had moved so that subsequent arrows would not slam into the house if she missed. Maybe the stables. They were dirty anyway.
She leaned on the post, gaze flicking sideways to admire her reflection as she pulled out the arrow. Laughter spilling from her lips once more. She wasn't this vain! A fine sight, though. Pity no one was looking. Or were they? Idly, she turned, sweeping her regard over the neighboring environs, adjusting her white tank top as she did. She might as well not wear the damned thing, in this heat, you could see her bra RIGHT through it when she sweated...
"Tsk. Could you be more obvious? Stupid girl!" She shook her head, fitting arrows back into quiver as she padded out to range once more. Distracting. Anything not to think of her little problem.
Static poured and coursed over her, little arcs of visible electricity joining her with carpet, with table, with doorknob. Quick, brief touches, her body on autopilot with the walking and the light, deliberate motions. Careful, careful. She couldn't feel anything. Verad stared, asking something, and she barely heard it.
"Orb in the basement. Shocked me."
Her own voice, she must've said the words, for he winced; her own ears were still ringing. Right, right, outside. Outside so as not to burn or break things. Others were there, these days the Keepers, the Shroud Wolves, they were here all the time. Someone said something, and some others stared at her. Her nerves were crackling, purple hues in her hair falling in her eyes.
Oh, a bench. Maybe if she gripped it, she could safely discharge some of the...
She leaned back against the bench, the newer one. It hadn't been all bad, that time. She'd met Nihka from it, actually. Cracking her neck, she set the bow down, and the quiver, contemplating the training dummy. Not the same as a moving target, let alone one that fought back, but there was something to be said for mindlessly training... which she'd not done since becoming, ah, unable, to use a spear.
Had she held thought at bay with training back then, as well? Oh yes, definitely. Was that one of the side-effects? Or deliberate, part of the brainwashing? Had they been taught to fight so that they would not think? It seemed plausible. Certainly there was a rush in the physical, she knew all her kinsmen felt it; the pleasure parts of her brain seemed to get almost as strongly dialed up by combat and killing as by sex.
Maybe another association was forming. Why else would she keep throwing herself into these situations?
Staring at the Orb, the lightning in it dancing as though eager to get at her, feeling the heat and rage and fear dancing and thrumming in her veins. Gifts of corrupted aether. It could work. Displace, saturate, replace. Lightning, why not? Purple hair, instead of blood's red. But it would hurt. Azeyma would it hurt. She didn't like pain, not like that. But she didn't like this corruption either.
She waffled, and snarled, and tensed, and then with Spahro's taunts ringing in her ears, she leapt-
CRACK
It couldn't be that she enjoyed it. That was rank madness. But... was it? Though her whole sept bore cold in their bones, had she not always somehow... also leaned toward the embrace of lightning? Certainly it leapt out to greet her as few other aetherial manifestations did, like an old, tirelessly eager lover.
And then, there was that blessing, that relic that almost had to be Lord Ramuh's gift...
Anstarra shook herself. Gathering up her weapons, her towel and her outer shirt, she headed inside. It was time for a hot bath, and to relax, and consider that maybe, just maybe she was not as internally upset as she should be - despite getting essentially hit by lightning four times in the past two turns - by Nihka's morning comment that she hoped to go to the Sylphlands, along with Kiht (and herself, obviously), to find what they needed to save those two men. The last stone.
A worthy cause. Into the lands of the Lord of Levin and lightning, where she had not returned since the second time she was smote by the sky's fire. And thinking on hazarding it again, now... her tail lifted, and twitched.
No, not upset. Maybe the opposite.
And that thought alone, was rather shocking.
![[Image: MBLxxyE.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/MBLxxyE.gif)