Settling accounts. She did not like the sound of that at all. They were words which had hung over her head time and time again, however hard she tried to ignore them. Her days passed one by one and never did she live under the illusion that her affairs may very well come to a swift and abrupt end during any of them. She had relished the time away from Ul'dah and the insanity it seemed to inspire in its denizens but she had always known it would call back to her some day. Lieutenant Od'hilkas had been one of several loose ends and now that he had been given her message, she was free to turn her attention back to another.
Delial's stride was even, relaxed. The sun shifted onward, and the Highlander strode in its shadow with Vesper Bay at her back and Crescent Cove in her future. Nothing good had ever happened there, a thought which had not at all been lost upon her. So many great and bitter memories clung about the place. Though she had not set a single foot in the house beneath the cliff, she could still taste the stale rot the very thought of it brought to the back of her throat. She had come to loathe the sea and the pier and the way the water had seemed to take color so brilliantly one sun so many moons ago.
The paved road was one she had walked many a time and she took some small comfort in that familiarity at least for the others had done nothing but vex her. The returning theme of settling accounts did not sit well with her yet there it was. Nor did the thought of betrayal... yet there it was, once more proving to be one of the few things she could rely on. Wolfsong's 'proposal', if it could be called as such, perplexed her as much as it insulted her. She had made a career out of being disappointed by others but she had not expected to add Gharen Wolfsong to that list so soon, for he was an honest man even at his worst. The more she turned the situation over in her head the more nonsensical it became. Delial knew just how foolish it could be to expose a trap to the very prey he had meant to ensnare.
Her steps slowed as she came upon the fork in the road. It was still too early to make for Crescent Cove and that still left time for at least one thing that needed to be done. Delial gave a sigh as her feet departed from the stones and her favoured boots sloshed into the shallow water. If there had been any other travellers upon the road, they would have seen a robed woman stalking a single dark-feathered buzzard preening itself upon a stubborn remains of a broken archway. It ignored her while trudged closer, and it ignored her when she drew a blade in one hand and a tome in the other. Once before she had come this way leave what remained of Aylard Greyarm those very same birds. If there was anything Delial Grimsong truly believed it, it was that there was nothing that came without a price.
The knife ended what the aether did not. She rested the still-warm corpse upon the nearby face of a stone and cut clean and methodical, recreating the same lines she had been taught when she was still a girl full of promise. She spoke words of prayer and bowed her head to honor the gods to whom she spoke: Rhalgr, Halone, Nymeia, Thaliak. Her fingers dipped into the cavities she carved and with that blood she smeared the long, thin lines that she had long neglected over the curves of her cheekbones, dotted three, three, and three marks again over and under her eyes.
When all was done, she leaned over the carcass and summoned upon a spark of flame to consume it. It was madness that she had even considered returning to Thanalan but at the very least it gave her the excuse of settling a few things. Once before, Gharen had followed her to the house beneath the cliff despite surely suspecting it must have been a trap. She had thought him foolish then, just as she thought herself foolish now. Delial felt more solid bearing the marks she had worn much of her life, and when she stepped out of the water and back onto the stony road, she stepped taller. There was nothing in life that came without a price, this she believed, and she was not about to let herself become an exception.
Delial's stride was even, relaxed. The sun shifted onward, and the Highlander strode in its shadow with Vesper Bay at her back and Crescent Cove in her future. Nothing good had ever happened there, a thought which had not at all been lost upon her. So many great and bitter memories clung about the place. Though she had not set a single foot in the house beneath the cliff, she could still taste the stale rot the very thought of it brought to the back of her throat. She had come to loathe the sea and the pier and the way the water had seemed to take color so brilliantly one sun so many moons ago.
The paved road was one she had walked many a time and she took some small comfort in that familiarity at least for the others had done nothing but vex her. The returning theme of settling accounts did not sit well with her yet there it was. Nor did the thought of betrayal... yet there it was, once more proving to be one of the few things she could rely on. Wolfsong's 'proposal', if it could be called as such, perplexed her as much as it insulted her. She had made a career out of being disappointed by others but she had not expected to add Gharen Wolfsong to that list so soon, for he was an honest man even at his worst. The more she turned the situation over in her head the more nonsensical it became. Delial knew just how foolish it could be to expose a trap to the very prey he had meant to ensnare.
Her steps slowed as she came upon the fork in the road. It was still too early to make for Crescent Cove and that still left time for at least one thing that needed to be done. Delial gave a sigh as her feet departed from the stones and her favoured boots sloshed into the shallow water. If there had been any other travellers upon the road, they would have seen a robed woman stalking a single dark-feathered buzzard preening itself upon a stubborn remains of a broken archway. It ignored her while trudged closer, and it ignored her when she drew a blade in one hand and a tome in the other. Once before she had come this way leave what remained of Aylard Greyarm those very same birds. If there was anything Delial Grimsong truly believed it, it was that there was nothing that came without a price.
The knife ended what the aether did not. She rested the still-warm corpse upon the nearby face of a stone and cut clean and methodical, recreating the same lines she had been taught when she was still a girl full of promise. She spoke words of prayer and bowed her head to honor the gods to whom she spoke: Rhalgr, Halone, Nymeia, Thaliak. Her fingers dipped into the cavities she carved and with that blood she smeared the long, thin lines that she had long neglected over the curves of her cheekbones, dotted three, three, and three marks again over and under her eyes.
When all was done, she leaned over the carcass and summoned upon a spark of flame to consume it. It was madness that she had even considered returning to Thanalan but at the very least it gave her the excuse of settling a few things. Once before, Gharen had followed her to the house beneath the cliff despite surely suspecting it must have been a trap. She had thought him foolish then, just as she thought herself foolish now. Delial felt more solid bearing the marks she had worn much of her life, and when she stepped out of the water and back onto the stony road, she stepped taller. There was nothing in life that came without a price, this she believed, and she was not about to let herself become an exception.
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