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Post by Keaira on Mar 9, 2005 21:57:55 GMT -5
Initially these final questions had been broached out of habit and desire for further suffering rather than any true curiosity. After all, the girl was hers now, all hers, so why would she give a damn about her past life? It was all behind her now, and soon the bitch would not have even the haziest recollections of her previous freedom, Keaira would make certain of that! However, she did find herself being drawn to the words spoken by Aeri despite her uncaring attitude. The constant whipping of leather upon flesh would ebb slightly, a longer break given between the vicious strikes, the action ceasing completely by the time the slave had finished speaking.
Well now…this certainly was an unexpected though most pleasing revelation. Keaira would mull over what she had been told, mind already beginning to sort through the various ways she could exploit this little tidbit of info for the most profitable of gains. Her little slave, supposedly friends with a queen! Not just any queen…a powerful queen of high status! Oh, such benefits could be reaped from this-that is, if she played things out just right…and if this was a true statement. Perhaps this queen she spoke of was not truly a friend or perhaps she was not as powerful as the slave was leading her to believe…or maybe she didn’t exist at all. This could merely be a scheme the bitch had concocted in hopes that Kea might decide Aeri wasn’t worth bothering with since it would just lead to confrontation with powerful people. If that were the case, it wouldn’t work. Kea was not one to be so easily scared off. She had dealt with power before, and she had always come out on top (conveniently forgetting the few instances where this had not been the case).
However, Keaira was of the optimistic type and would hence think of things in terms of the best case scenario. Which meant until given evidence to the contrary, she would allow herself to believe that this woman was friends with a high and powerful queen. Oh the possibilities!! She bounced upon the balls of her feet, almost giddy with excitement. More was better, always better....more money, more power, more prestigious, more slaves...and this helpless runt she had bound prone before her could lead to increases of all of the above! What a profitable capture this might turn out to be. Humans were of a weak nature, pitiful things with such pathetic emotions. She had found that often friends would surrender their freedom in exchange for the life of one they had bonded with, regardless of whether or not they shared blood. Sniveling fools...
To think...she might soon have a queen in her possession. It had been so long...so very long since she had last had a member of royalty in her length of slaves. It brought Kea such pleasure to bring down those that thought they were so high and mighty...to be served by those used to being served. They were always so stubborn and strong willed that it made the triumph that much sweeter when they finally broke, groveling at her feet. Blood red lips twist up in anticipation of this feat she would soon accomplish. As much as she wished to question the slave further on this queen she had a friendship with, to find out her ultimate value and other such information, she would make no further mention of this for the time being. She would wait, wait until she had broken Aeri further...until her spirit was so crushed that betraying her friend would mean nothing to her. It was only a matter of time...
Moving over to her wall of torture implements, she would carefully hang the whip back up in its proper place. As much as she loved her darling whip with its wonderful capability of drawing force the sweetest of screams, she did like adding some extra variety to her torture sessions, showing her slaves just what all she was capable of. Surveying her options, she would stoop over to select a thick jar of glass from its resting place upon a shelf. The container was filled with needles of varying length...thick and sharp, some coated with a light layer of rust...or was that blood. Setting the jar down on the table next to the slave, she would run her fingers over Aeri's soft flesh, softly tracing over delicate cheekbones in an almost gentle carress. "You know slave...you're almost slightly attractive..." The words, almost a compliment...but then, ,without warning, Keaira would press down deeply with sharpened nails, clawing across Aeri's face. "Attractiveness has no place in a slave!" Now growling, as though it were the slave's fault that she had been blessed with such exotic beauty.
A needle is plucked from the jar, nimbly twisted between Kea's fingers as she glowers over the woman. "I suppose then, we'll have to alter your looks...I can't have you getting cocky and thinking yourself above your station..." Lightly she runs the tip of the need over Aeri's eyelids. "Make sure you keep your eyes open and pay close attention to me and whats going on...or I shall end up tying them open..." She threatens, dragging the needle down the side of her face to rest now upon the side of her nose and then suddenly forcing it roughly through the flesh of her nostril. She would drive it through with force, twisting it within the hole she was creating, her objective the drive the needle all the way through and out through the other side. "Tell me what you are...who you serve...tell me how worthless you are...Perhaps if I believe you're sincere enough, I might just end your torture, bitch!" She commands this harshly as she continues to jam and twist the needle through her nose.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Mar 10, 2005 20:53:00 GMT -5
The time between strikes gave Aerillia the strength to perservere. The vicious lust for control and power that Kea seemed to have was nothing short of phenomenal to the Desert Rose. She babbled when she struck, she must be absolutely insane. Somewhere deep inside her head, Aerillia wonders if she might go insane too before she can hope to break free, to be rescued.
Unfortunately for her musings, Aerillia did not see the wicked twinkle in Kea's eyes as she muttered something about attractiveness. The talon-like claws bite down into Aerillia's flesh and were it not for Kea's grip the young woman might have cried out in pain. Kea's hand prevented it as she raked some flesh aside and allowing it to bleed. Despite Kea's trials with Aerillia's supposed beauty the claw marks only make her look more savagely exotic. As if she might have fought with some great animal. Indeed it would seem before the end of it all she might just have to do that.
The clink of needle like implements cause Aerillia to glance toward Kea's moving hands. Wondering just what torturous thing she might try next. With the withdrawl of a long needle Aerillia's eyes immediately water up at the thought of having that thing stuck into her. She nods lightly when Kea instructs her to keep her eyes open through the procedure. The last thing she needed was for the woman to drive the needle through an eye and into her brain. Despite it all, Aerillia wanted life now more than she had before.
Not really sure what to expect from Kea now that the woman hung over her body like a sickly disgusting creature of the lowliest sort, Aerillia's body tenses when Kea grabs her head and presses the point against the flesh of her nostril. Despite how hard she tries to quell the steady rise of rhythm in her heart, Aerillia slowly begins to lose that battle. Taking quite possibly the very last breath she would ever be able to take again without pain, Aerillia keeps her eyes wide open as the needle is shoved into the fleshy cartiledge.
At first it felt like a routine piercing from ages past in a life that Aerillia had long since forgotten. However, the red hot pain lancing through her face and body told her that it wasnt routine and that it wasnt like it used to be. The questions pouring from Kea's mouth get answered, oh they do as the piercing needle pushes through. "I was a priestess. I served the Gods dedicated to Air." Her breath comes out in ragged gasps as she tries to maintain an aura of calm about her. Tears mix with blood as it runs down into her eyes, burning and making everything turn red. The coppery taste of her own blood seeping into her mouth made her wonder vaguely what life might have been like before the pain. Continuous pain for three weeks and now torture. Vicious torture.
Aerillia's only mistake thus far had been to allow herself to be captured at all. Despite the blood and the tears, the crying and the screaming (which she was doing while contemplating) her mind became almost entirely void of anything that was fundamentally her at the very core. Dark rivulets of blood from the beatings prior had come to surface in jewels of fine sparkling quality. She exclaimed how worthless she was, but it didnt feel like she was the one screaming or talking. Crying or bleeding. It didnt seem real to her anymore. Reality was pain and Pain reality and suddenly everything was calm and quiet in her mind.
In truth Aerillia was losing much to much blood and far too fast for the ordeal she had gone through. Had the woman not been covered in blood Kea might notice that the woman was starting to look ashen and pale. Like the tides Aerillia's life was slowly starting to ebb.
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Post by Keaira on Mar 11, 2005 13:30:23 GMT -5
With a finally sharp jab, the needle is pressed through the remainder of the way, the implement now completely skewing Aerillia's nose. Kea takes a step back to admire her work. There...she wasn't so pretty now, was she? Piercing was a technique many of her collegues used as a way to decorate their property, doubling as means of punishment. It had not really been something which had appealed to Keaira in the past--she much preferred brandings and carvings as ways of marking various lumps of flesh as hers. But this piercing thing wasn't so bad--it could be certain no one would ever mistake this slave as free again, not with the needle thrust jantily through her nose. Not that she'd ever encounter anyone that would make such a mistake...she was here for life. She did like the way the piercing marred the woman's appearance--how dare she come here trying to upstage Kea with her beauty? No matter that she had no choice in her posistion here. In Kea's twisted mind, the bitch was purposely trying to upstage her in the area of looks. Ha!! Well she'd shown her!! Mutilated as she now was, a needle shoved through that once perfect nose...her previously smooth and untarnished flesh now covered with welts and tears and bruises, smeared over with blood...she could be categorized as hideous. Hideous as she might be...she was still a piece of art, her body a canvas that Kea had "decorated"...and Kea was quite proud of her work.
And here she goes, babbling on about this Priestess crap again. Not at all the answer Keaira had expected, nor desired. She hated this constant reminded of the sickly goodness that lurked beneath the surface of this newest acquirement. How dare she attempt to put her gods above her Mistress? Keaira *was* god, the only one the slave now served, and the sooner the bitch admitted it, the better off she’d be. Anger at this indignation has brought a crimson flush to Kea’s skin, her lips twisted into a vicious sneer as she reaches into the jar for a handful of needles, fully intending to stab each and every one of them into Aerillia’s body like it was a pincushion. Priestess indeed!
Her careless in handling the needles has an unsavory consequence, a prick of pain in her hand distracting her from beginning this violent act. A needle had slipped, piercing the tender surface of her finger—glancing down, Keaira can just see the drop of sticky black blood forming at the wound entrance. She seems unable to tear her attention away as the acidic liquid begins to dribble down her palm…the black a sharp contrast to the whiteness of her skin.
Her eyes flutter shut, fisting opening to allow the needles to fall down, softly pinging upon the hard stone floor. Kea is completely oblivious however, powerless against the vivid memory that has taken control of her mind. There was laughter…colors, a more vivid array than she had seen in centuries…oh…and the smell…something she’d classify as nauseating now…but within her mind seemed almost sweet. Following Kela through the garden…the awe, as the older girl so intelligently explained the different plant species...how smart her sister was!
“This is a Rosa Rugosa. It is almost always green and is known for its power to prevent sickness and to keep our bodies healthy
“How about this one?” Reaching out to touch the plant that had caught her attention, her finger is pricked by the sharp harsh thorns. Drawing her hand back with a squeal of pain, she would indignantly cry out, “It bit me!!” Angrily the young Kea would enact her vengeance upon the flower, ripping and jerking petal into pieces, then stomping it into the ground.
“Oh no!” Kela, grabbed at the tantruming girl. “We mustn’t hurt the plants…plants are our friends. It didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident. The plant loves you…” Hugging Kea, stroking her hair, providing her with really the only love Kea had ever known, ever really wanted to know.
“I’m sorry Jadie….I’m sorry…I didn’t mean too...I’m sorry.” Sniffling, burying her face in Kela’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, my poppet…sshh…it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it…” Smiling sweetly at the child, bandaging her finger and wiping away the tears.
[/i]
The affection of this flashback seems almost to have weakened her. Her eyes have a vacant, almost confused glaze to them as she reaches out to almost tenderly stroke her fingers through Aeri’s hair…hand hesitating over the piercing she had just created through her nose, as though about to remove it. “I..I’m sorry…” She whispers lightly under her breath, the first time such words had escaped from her lips in a lifetime. Reaching up, her free hand would lightly stroke her pendant in absentminded fashion. There seems to be a sparking from the medallion to her fingertips, the tear the needle had caused closing up completely, the last remnants of the powerful memory completely fizzling as the evilness once again takes strong hold.
Keaira appears to have completely forgotten those brief moments of instability…but lucky for Aeri, she also seems to have forgotten her desire to drive needles into every square inch of her body. Instead, she would reach out, her long slender fingers encircling Aeri’s neck and squeezing—just hard enough to get her attention, to draw her focus to Keaira. While several things had slipped her mind while she had been trapped within her mind, she had not forgotten how the bitch had arrogantly declared herself to still be a priestess. Bending down ever so slightly, the forked tip of her tongue flickering over Rillia’s ear as she hisses. “You are not a Priestess! You aren’t! You are my slave, and nothing more, understand? Forget your old life, forget everything about it…that life never existed! If you make mention of that which does not exist again, I shall have no choice but to rip your tongue from you! You are my slave…you serve no gods, only me!!” Squeezing harder on her neck. “Say it!! Denounce these gods that left you here to die! Say you are my slave...declare me your Mistress, your Goddess …Say it! Say it now!” She chants over and over…appearing near frenzied.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Mar 11, 2005 22:03:03 GMT -5
Everything seems to slow way down as the blood mixes with the tears. Shuddering against something, whether real or imagined cannot be told, Aerillia's eyes remain open through the whole ordeal. Frozen open, or perhaps the blood had crusted over and maintained the opening. She realizes much too late that she had said something that didnt please Kea. This causes raking shivers to course through her, but they are almost hidden by the restraints. Looking straight up inhibited Aeri's ability to see the needle through her nose, but she doubted beyond doubt that it was nothing more than what a piercing might be in her tribe long ago. Women used to do it as a fashion especially through the ears.
Her eyes take on a haunted look but it is mostly masked by the red blood which creates an eerie purple hue about the iris'. The clinking of the metal needles against the glass jar cause her to tilt her head slightly in the direction of Kea and some of the blood that had previously pooled in her eyes now become rampant bloody tears. The pink glaze still making her eyes seem purple, a stark contrast to the bright blue they usually appear to be. Aeri heard the needles clatter across the floor and her brow furrows as she tries to comprehend what could make Kea drop the needles.
The pause in time allows Aerillia to slip back into herself. Go back to days long past and ponder, relive, and rejoice in things she had since forgotten. Most of what she thought about, becoming quite still in the process, was her family as she knew it. In many ways her memories seem real to her so real that she can hardly distinguish between reality and memory. The most vivid memory was of her younger sisters and how she used to help them better understand the world around them after her servitude to her mother's family. How many did she have again? Six little sisters and five little brothers? Most of them were half siblings from different mothers, as her father took multiple wives. Many of them looked up to her as the first sibling until she was taken away. Most would be adults or nearing adulthood now. Sister. How she missed her younger sister from her true mother! These memories make a small smile appear on her lips and if she could she might just reach out to touch...
But she couldnt. Something was holding her back, she just couldnt reach no matter how hard she tried. Suddenly she felt her head being shaken by something and she was forced back into a semi state of reality but the words she utters in compliance to Kea are those called in unseeing recognition.
"Yes Sister..." She swallows as she continues. "I will be nothing for you mother. Just make it stop. Make it go away..." She didnt know what was happening and in her blurred vision Kea looked very much like her sister, but maybe it was the dark hair that had her at odds. "Sister... dont let them come and get me again." This was of course in reference to her mother's family, but what would Kea do in reaction to what Aerillia was so obviously believing in at this point in time?
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Post by Keaira on Mar 16, 2005 21:31:54 GMT -5
The whip is pulled back, Kea preparing to strike out again regardless of the answer she recieved. It was sure to be wrong...Wrong wrong wrong....just like every other word out of the bitch's mouth had been. And in fact, she had already begun the motion of bringing the whip forward when that fateful word is mummered..."Sister..." Oh, what power was in those strung together syllables! The word seemed to contain an energy that reached out to Keaira like the sticky tentacles of octopus, wrapping about her and pulling her back into the memory she had not so long ago escaped. Bringing her back into visions of the past, bittersweet rememberances. She and Kel had used to call each other "sister", constantly reinforcing the special bond they felt the shared. Her eyes are clenched tightly shut, head shaking as she murmured so quietly beneath her breath, bombarded with flickering images that flashed upon the insides of her eyelids. Instead of the whip being slapped brutally upon Aeri's flesh once more, Kea's fingers would release their tight grip upon the weapon...the implement of pain flying harmlessly across the room to make contact with the far wall. This time...instead of fading so completely that it was as if it never happened, the memories seemed to blur upon the edges, fading and converging with reality, becoming reality. What was then was now and now was then...such confusion! As her eyes slowly opened, vision gradually clearing, it was no longer a worthless slave bitch that layed upon her tablet.
It was Keladria Jade...sweet Jadie. Frantically Keaira would fumble with the chains that held Aeri down, pulling at the thick metal...a bit of magick released from her finger causing welded steel to click open, the chains quickly pulled away from her captive's limbs. True...Aeri held only a superficial resemblance to Kela....both having the same thick dark hair, though Kela's was shot through with silver...and both were on the taller side. That was where the similarities were to end--Aeri was dark skinned where Kela was light complexted, her eyes and facial features were completely different...and never would sweet as sugar Kela invoke the wrath of another cruel enough to mangle her body to such a sad state. But Kea seems not to notice the bruises, the welts, the chunks of skin torn from flesh, not even the needle that was imbedded in Aeri's nose. No...in her twisted mind, this *was* her sister and that was whom she was seeing...an illusion of Kela superimposed over Aeri. She had compartmentalized the woman, dividing her into two seperate entities. It was not as though Aerillia Khisu, the newly captured slave did not exist. Kea remembered every moment she had spent breaking Aeri, remembered her sweet cries of pain and recalled that there was a queen out there, a queen that would be hers! But now she had reorganized the events of the last days within her mind...pushing Aeri's capture back further into the past and filling in the remain details of the time that had elapsed, convincing herself of things that had never happened, all so that this could be her sister who was here.
"Jadie..." Keaira whispered, reaching out to grasp Aerillia by the shoulders to assist her in sitting up. Her hand moves over Aeri's cheek in a slight carress before she seems to snap out of this reverie, bringing herself to this day, ,this time...only Aeri was still Kela. "It is good to see you again. How were your travels?" Reaching out to grasp the hand of this imitation sister, to pull her up to her feet before backing away. "It has been long...too long. Are you still practicing that ridiculous healing nonsense? It seems quite pointless, ,pathetic even, , when you might be using the gifts father left us to hurt, not help. Never the matter." She sent out a telepthic message and a shock, summoning a slave to come and attend to the needs of Kela. There was much to do, much to catch up on! Kea was all but bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, hands clapping together, as lips twisted up into something that might have almost resembled a smile. Nothing much mattered anymore, everything was inconsequential. Her sister was home!
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Post by Dr. Alyce Graff on Mar 17, 2005 14:13:50 GMT -5
Yullen had not talked much at all since gaining a voice. She was still the silent shapeshifter, though the silence was no longer forced and the shapeshifting ability had left her. That it was connected to those shots she was given was not lost on her. How long would it take her to regain her ability once the shots stopped? Would she gain it back at all?
She worked in a new area of Keaira’s lair, strong body good at picking up those bricks and laying them as another slave readied the placing. Her mind was always working, using the monotony of place and secure to think. She couldn’t think of herself without shapeshifting. She was still a formidable fighter. She still had the training, the experience of years as the Old Coon’s Right Hand. The injuries that she had sustained though, were worse than she even knew. She practically dragged the right ankle, her nose had been broken only a day or two before and she could feel a gap in her mouth where a tooth had been knocked out.
An involuntary shout squeezed from her lungs as Keaira sent a shock and a summon through her. She knew not to dawdle. Her run was only a semblance of it, teeth clenched against the shocks that ran up through that bad ankle. If only she could shapeshift. She would have to find a way out without it. But how? Going through the portal again was not an option. She had barely made it through the first time. But perhaps death was better than this. No, Yullen was not one for giving up and as she pushed through the door, she reset her teeth. The opportunity would come, and she’d be ready.
Completely black eyes slid across the room as she went down upon her knees. As her face fell toward the floor they widened. Aerillia? Theoren’s supposed lover. Damn. “Mistress.” The word was foreign to her, though most words were that way to her. Aerillia! She did not think to hope that this was her rescue. Aerillia was beaten, just as she had been. She could only hope that Theoren would be hot in pursuit. Yullen did not know that the man was dead and even had she known, she would not have believed. He had died in her arms before, died with a wound that he himself had inflicted. Had he not returned? She wouldn’t have known the seriousness of it all. Theoren was dead and no help would be forthcoming.
Yullen, the good slave, waited for Keaira’s pleasure, though her thoughts only moved faster. She had saved this woman before. She could and would do so again. Somehow.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Mar 28, 2005 19:37:31 GMT -5
Time and images blurred. Keaira was no longer the black hearted captor that had tried her hardest to mutilate her slave. No...no it was only 'Sister'. The one child of kin that Aerillia had ever connected with before she had left her village for the costal village she was training at before being captured. That was a bittersweet memory, being captured, everything was bittersweet. The sister in question's name had been Cryssa and she was younger than Aerillia by a few years but they had been the best of friends. So much so that Aerillia refused to call her anything but Sister. Not even the brother from the union of her mother and father had produced such a fast friendship. Perhaps that was because she had been in service to her mother's family.
"It has been long...too long. Are you still practicing that ridiculous healing nonsense? It seems quite pointless, ,pathetic even, , when you might be using the gifts father left us to hurt, not help. Never the matter." That was just vague enough to allow Aerillia to mold it to what she wanted Sister to be without cracking the hard shell of reality.
"It has been too long." Aerillia says and she smiles in a friendly manner, pain no longer part of her essence but burrowing deep down inside her - hiding. Cryssa had resented that Aerillia was to be taken away to do healing, to be the Medicine Woman for all of their villages. She hadnt wanted to share her Sister. So her mentioning the 'healing arts' Aerillia was a participant of were nothing new to the raven haired beauty- made even more crazily beautiful by the errant marks left on her body and smears of blood that seemed to no longer co-exist with her image of herself. "Yes sister, I still heal." She smiled amused when the Cryssa-that-was frowned. She would rather her use her gift to have the other tribes under their father's thumb. It was the same old story, and Aerillia was the only key. She wouldnt give her father that satisfaction, but she wouldnt tell Cryssa that.
"Sister I have missed you, there is much to discuss. Have you been well?" Memories flooded Aerillia about their past and she wanted desperately to discuss them, lonely as she was for a piece of home. However she didnt discuss them and she couldnt be exactly sure what was holding her back. In reality it might be her only saving grace as she rubbed her arms that tingled (if she were of her right mind they would hurt). Skin filleted to perfection had long since fallen off and in the end she would be the better for it.
The entrance of Yullen stirs some memory within her that gets caught under the dammed well of other memories she's keeping down. Time enough to sort them out, time enough. "Are you still keeping slaves Sister? I had hoped you would give that up." Making her best effort at a saddened face, Aerillia is soon overcome by another smile. She couldnt stay mad at Cryssa for long. She never had a chance at staying mad.
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Post by Keaira on Apr 8, 2005 14:55:01 GMT -5
She does not even seem to notice Yullen's enterance, barely glancing over to make sure the woman had remembered her manners and was kneeling like the docile pet Kea had so trained her to be, before bringing her attention to concentrate fully upon her "sister". Keaira would laugh deep within the back of her throat, a dry sound without humor, somewhat amused that Kela was still of the conviction that she could persuade Kea to give up her livelyhood. "Give this up? As I've told you before, that's just not an option--not a viable one at least. Besides....my slaves depend upon me; there's simply no way any could survive upon their own. To allow these creatures anything even resembling freedom would be to do a great injustice to them." Keaira declares this haughtily. "I feed them, give them shelter and in return, they work for me. It's truely not a bad trade off." It is hard to say whether Keaira truely believed this convulted distortion of fact. After all, even the most slow-witted should be able to see that those kept here would be much better off as beggers and street urchins in the real world, having at least some chance of survival, then as Kea's pets, beaten daily and tormented mentally, physically, until they eventually shriveled up to nothing. Certainly the part about feeding and sheltering them was mostly fiction, for she scarcely gave enough food, allowed littled sleep in this hell hole, and worked her slaves quite literally to death. Perhaps this delusion was nearly rationlization for the sake of Kela's conscious; though she certainly realized how terribly Kea treated her property it made it easier for her to not try and make things "right" if she was given some semblence of justification. And it was quite possibly that Keaira really did think that she was doing a favor to her captives by placing them in slavery. It was foolishness, certainly, ,since most had better lives then what they now had, and all were taken from their lives without their consent....but then, none of Kea's crazy beliefs had much truth gound into them.
Kela's usual issues about her continued participation in the area of slavery having been sufficently dealt with, at least as far as Kea was concerned, Kea would redirect her attention. Acknowledging Yullen for seemingly the first time, she would kick her harshly in the side to gain her attention, then grabbing a hunk of shrone hair, jerking backwards to force her gaze upward. "This here is my sister. You will treat her as you would me, with unwavering respect, courtesy, and obedience. Or else I just might see what other damage I might be able to afford those legs and ankles, understood?" Spittle with a slightly acidic tone to it rains over Yullen's face as her black forced tongue snakes out to flicker over Yullen's features." Shoving Yullen roughly away, her attention returns to Kela...sweet Kel. Smiling...it was one of her rare almost-real-smiles, though her lip did twist slightly in a sneer, she informs Aeri, "This one will serve you during your time here and attend to any needs you might have. She had fairly good handwritting, which I'm sure you will find beneficial if you should decide to work while you are here. She shouldn't be any trouble ; just be certain to punish her for any infractions and inform me if she has any bouts of defiance." Introductions now out of the way, she moves towards the door, a snap in front of Yullen's face an indication fot he slave to follow.
"I'm sure you must be well worn out from your journey. Let us get you to your quarters so you might rest before dinner." Kea leads the way through the maze of corridors, confidently moving through the various twists and turns that would take them to Keaira's suite of rooms in the west wing. "What has kept you away for so long, Jadie? I've not heard a word from you in such time, I had thought something might have happened to you?" Keaira seemed to conviently forget that she had thrown Kela out on her last visit here, forbidding her to return unless she had a major attitude adjustment. The anger, the violent way in which she had reacted upon the discovering that her dear sister was aiding and abbetting in the betterment of her slaves, contributing to their pleasure, feeding them, even working for them so they might rest. She had ranted and raved for hours, days after making this discovery...but the illfated previous visit appears to have dispated most completely from her memories, Keaira now most happy to have her sister home.
She pauses outside of large stone doors which now bar the way...placing her hand flat to the surface of the doors until the locks miraculously popped upen, allowing admittance into the areas beyond. Not many slaves were allowed into Kea's private sector...only those she trusted were allowed the privalege of cleaning her chambers...she would not allow any such an honour if she believed there was even the slightest chance it might result in damage to her personal belongings. There were those that rebelled against their situation by throwing tantrums, destroying property or even going through her things, which Keaira simply would not tolerate! Only skilled labourers, those that had been with her long enough that she trusted them, knew they would do nothing but what they were told. Yullen, certainly, had never been allowed within these rich rooms; she was too sporadic for Kea's liking. Though she had settled down after loosing the ability to shift, what's to say if she were presented different circumstances, she wouldn't again shift into attack mode?
The same black cobblestone that made up the rest of the dimension was present here, though it was polished to a shiny glossamer finish, with shiny gems and stones imbedded to the walls. Kea opens the third door on the right...Kela's room, virtually the same as it had been upon her banishment nearly a year ago. It was a fairly large room with an adjorning bathroom, but unlike the rest of the rooms, so meticulously cared for, Kela's room had some signs of neglect, various surfaces liberally coated with dust. The only change Kea had made here was to cover up the tapestries depicting scenes of nature, animals and trees and fields were enough to make Kea nausceous merely by looking at them, with crimson cloth. Thick plush rugs of rich colors, dark greens and blues covered the floor in strategic areas., and a large double bed and a mahogony writing table dominated the area. There was a wardrobe against the wall, containing Kela's proper clothes that Kea insisted where wear while here. The pots of flowers Kela had so lovingly tended during her last visit and lined up so carefully on the desk had since shriveled and died, wisping away to nothing like so many of the slaves kept here. Kea's nose wrinkles as she observes her surroundings with slight distaste. "Things here aren't quite what they used to be, eh? I'll have some others come up and give this place a through cleaning later, but for now, this bitch will certainly do her best to make things presentable and to see to your needs." Shooting a glare to Yullen, as though the condition of the room was somehow her fault. "I'm going to make sure a sufficient meal is prepared for your return. That shall give you amble opprotunity to freshen up and change." Seemingly not to notice the ill state of Aeri's body that would take more than a bit of freshening up to correct nor the fact that she had nothing to change out of, only in to. "She moves to the door, "Welcome back, my sister." slamming it shut with a resounding clank.
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Post by Dr. Alyce Graff on Apr 12, 2005 12:58:47 GMT -5
Yullen was always desperately looking for ways of escape, reasons to miss that sweet little shot that Keaira was so good in never forgetting. Thus far, nothing had presented itself and she was left working and slaving away for the wicked and demented woman. Yullen only used the voice that Keaira had gifted her with when necessary; screamed when Keaira hit her, cried in the appropriate places. Cira had been allowed to get out of the place and so...perhaps, with good behavior, she’d be able to do so as well. Why the girl ever came back was beyond Yullen. Perhaps she had had trouble getting the collar off? She had touched it a few times and she’d dropped to the floor each and every time. It was apparent that she’d not be able to get it off without someone else’s help or the ability to shift. Yullen’s black eyes were calculating, looking at all of the options, each and every one, except when Keaira looked. Those large surfaces bore into the floor as Keaira and Aerillia conversed. She made the dutiful grunt as she was kicked, a whimper as Keaira pulled her hair back and a very played out, ‘Yes, Mistress’ as her commands were issued.
She scuttled after them both, eyes narrowing. Was Aerillia actually the woman’s sister? How was she to know who was related and who wasn’t? But why had Keaira beat her so heavily and suddenly stopped? Perhaps the damage had happened before the two had come. Neither of them mentioned the poor state the woman’s body was in. What caring sister would seem to set aside the beaten and terrible state of the other’s body? She followed them, head lowered, feet scuffling in their torn state. She supposed it didn’t matter if their state as sisters was reality or fiction. She had judged Aerillia before, seen what the woman was made of. Saved her from death. A priestess was a priestess and Yullen would have to take a chance. Before Keaira even left the room, Yullen moved forward to open the dusty wardrobe, baring the clothes that, Keaira’s real sister had vacated. After setting the scene for Aerillia, Yullen began to clean, dusting and pulling back drapes to reveal those beautiful scenes. Whoever Keaira’s sister had been, whether Aerillia or some other woman, she had been similar to the Priestess at least. It was not so beyond reality that Aerillia was the sister. Still, whether or not it was true, there had been a reason why Aerillia had been gone for so very long. No doubt they had had a falling out over Keaira’s practice of slaving. It did not take a genius to see the differences between the two.
Yullen was silent for the longest time despite a sneeze as she dusted. Black eyes ran from what she was doing, to the woman that had suddenly reentered her now terribly altered life. She could not tell if Keaira was not watching and so she would have to play it carefully. She stood before Aerillia now, bowed forward submissively. “Would you like me to have a bath prepared for you, Mistress?” She, however, did not point those dark eyes down toward the floor. Instead, she studied the woman, perhaps far to invasively as she waited for the answer. The voice would not be something the woman would remember. It was a beautiful voice, one that would be beautiful and awe inspiring when used in singing. It sounded someone...rusty coming from her throat however. A week of use of a voice did not counter centuries with none. That she would use Aerillia to escape was no question. If Aerillia were not Keaira’s sister and this was just another demented decision of Keaira’s, she would get them both to safety as she had before.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Apr 18, 2005 20:04:08 GMT -5
Time passed and yet Aerillia stuck to the concept of having Cryssa with her. Perhaps it was a manifestation of the constant pain her body had come to hold dear like a lost lover, or perhaps it was the fear of never finding a way out. Whatever the reason Kea was Cryssa. For whatever reason Aerillia pays special attention to her surroundings before speaking to Kea.
"You have done so well for yourself sister. I am proud of you." Aerillia smiled and could not fathom why pain was starting to leak back into her conciousness. The pin was still through her nose, and had she any recollection of what she felt like beyond the memories, she would understand why when she smiled pain would happen. This was a dream for the Desert Rose, her dream.
Watching Kea open the door and lead her into a dusty room, Aerillia smiles and happily complies with Kea's wishes--Cryssa's wishes. Left to her was a woman that was so achingly familiar that it almost hurt to think about. Yullen, the Canary, the woman that had saved her life (and Theo's) when fleeing Avalon. She had been a protecting force for Aerillia when in Ayenee City whether she knew it or not. Now she couldnt even fathom the woman's name. Her Yullen hadnt been able to speak besides.
Aerillia glances around the room as Yullen removes the cloth from the paintings and laid out clothing for her. Then there was the offer of a bath and Aerillia could not have hoped for more. "I would love one. Please do not call me mistress, but if it will get you in trouble in Cryssa's presence I will not chastise you." She had said it, her sister's name. Now there was no doubt that the woman that Aerillia thought Kea to be was in fact not Aerillia's sister at all.
If Yullen gave her any suspicious glances Aerillia did not notice. Neither did she notice that she was stark naked and caked with blood and other grime. Thankfully the itching had subsided long ago and was no longer plaguing her waking mind. It was obvious that it could not penetrate her dreams either. The wounds that had not healed, the skin that was peeling, the blood that was dried would all make a mess of memories when they touched the bath water. Now though, the sound of water splashing in a tub sounded as decadent as forbidden sweets. Devoid of the usual arrangement of herbs she had in various pouches on her belt, Aerillia ponders where they might have gone as she wanders over to the bath and looks at it longingly. Her position is in such a manner that her reflection cannot be seen to her and so her spell is not yet broken.
Until--
The pain felt like a small bolt of electricity or lightning. It was enough for Aerillia to pause as her foot dangled in the water. Thinking nothing of it she follows suit with the opposite foot and again the pain draws her attention. Disgruntled looks soon become muffled cries of pain as she covers her mouth with her hand to staunch the flow of a scream. Sitting now in a tub of warm water that spirals in places with the pink presence of blood Aerillia shakes from the shock and grips the side of the tub for support. Throbbing and stinging pain flare anew as she sits wide eyed in the tub. Clear water turns pink, and pink to red as blood slowly lifts off of her tortured body. Leaning back Aerillia stifles the want to cry, the urge to scream, and the uncontrollable need to flee. Something was wrong - terribly wrong.
To her surprise when she leans her head back she stares right into the face of Yullen. Sitting up swiftly so that the water sloshes slightly without spilling, Aerillia takes a good hard look at the woman called Canary. "Yullen? Is that you? By the stars...where are we, what is going on?" Her fervent need for answers was not rashly wasted by raising the pitch of her voice. Rather, like a trained warrior might, Aerillia whispers to Yullen with her blue eyes trying to cover up the pain she so obviously felt.
Unwittingly, Yullen had brought Aerillia back to reality. Though this time the Desert Rose was free and of a sound mind. Rising to a stand Aerillia shakes visibly, though obviously not from a cold breeze. Glancing down at her body the young woman blinks at the lesions and grotesque markings on her body. She ached to hold her arms to her body and comfort it, but that thought offered more pain that she was willing to cope with. Stepping out of the tub and onto the floor, dripping the pink water in rivulets, Aerillia gazes at Yullen before grabbing a nearby towel and placing it about her frame.
"I thought Theo rescued you before he...he..." And she couldnt say it. She couldnt make herself say to Yullen that Theoren Roullier had died. She didnt know if the woman knew and pondered whether or not to tell her now and then jump to an escape plan or... Thoughts whirled through Aerillia's mind as she stood before Yullen with the towel about her worn and haggard frame. "Ask me what you will Yullen if you can. I'll find some paper and you can write it to me." It was as if she hadnt even heard Yullen speak to her before. "After you ask though you need to tell me what is going on. One moment I am with my sister, the next I am in pain." Her main question was 'Where are we?' followed quickly by 'Who has done this to me? To us?'
Pieces would fall together and anger would simmer. The captor had not the knowledge of the captee. Soon...soon the tables might turn and the Captor would become the captive. Aerillia, gifted of the Ysaena, chosen of the element Air...would find the answers she sought and then Yullen and She would free themselves.
Yes, Freedom. A delectable treat that dangled before the eyes of the Sacrifice.
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Post by Dr. Alyce Graff on Apr 29, 2005 3:43:29 GMT -5
The slave, as it was that she’d come to know herself as, watched Aerillia closely. Black hair was sheered shortly and erratically. She felt like a child though she was still tall, dwarfed Keaira by quite a bit really when she wasn’t groveling. Which wasn’t often. She watched Aerillia closely, remaining mostly silent as she stood above her. The haze within the woman’s eyes explained to Yullen all that she wanted to know. Her own completely black eyes were clear and calculating as they always had been. She had been through worse it was true though never quite so bad for herself as for others. Her ability to shape herself had always been there, a strength that none could control. But for Keaira. Her teeth clenched tightly as Aerillia cried out in pain. She was good enough to keep it muffled at least. Good girl. Yullen had no such control over her voice. Not yet. To keep the woman happy she would not attempt it either. Keaira had given her a voice for a reason and Yullen was not too proudful to keep that triumph from her. She did not move to wash the priestess. Now that Yullen knew Keaira was indeed not her sister, the realization would come. The blood in the water, the pain, the mutated state of her skin. The pin within her nose. Yullen waited, standing ominously over her.
Finally, the woman’s eyes cleared and the first word that fell from her lips was Yullen’s name. She smiled, unable to contain the happiness that came with companionship. She would have hugged her, would have tackled her and licked her with a dog’s tongue but she was unable and it would only do Aerillia harm. Instead, she continued to smile as Aerillia spoke. “We don’t have much time. We don’t know how long her delusion is going to last and we need to take advantage of it.” She waved away any questions or shock at her ability to speak.
It was a beautiful voice, as beautiful as the canary’s song that Yullen had been able to sing before. She had sung in the garden as the sun rose, beauty in more than her dark blood colored feathers. No doubt Aerillia had either cursed the early riser’s voice or praised it though Yullen would never have admitted that it had been her. Often, she had lost herself within that one shape, grasping onto that small ability in voicing herself and her happiness with life. Yullen would have rejoiced the gift of such a beautiful voice if it had not come with such dire consequences.
“For the moment I think we should play along, continue with the delusion if it is going to last. I am not of use for she has stolen my ability to shape and crippled me.” The smile fell as the anger gathered within her. Yullen was a precise killer. She killed no more than necessary though when it came to women like Keaira, she had no qualms. “Do you want to try to kill her or merely attempt an escape?” She asked it cooly, her black eyes never leaving Aerillia’s. “There are many other slaves here that are suffering because of this woman but I do not know if we could manage her together.” She began to pace slightly, tucking her hands behind her back as she paced. “She has regenerative powers, acidic blood, and she completely controls this domain. I do not know if we could get out without her consent at all anyhow. If we killed her we might merely be stuck in this hell for the rest of our lives.”<br> It seemed the woman had truly found her voice, though it was still somewhat rusty in it’s use. She stopped and looked to Keaira questioningly. It would definitely take both of them to get out of there. “You could ask to go to the market, to restock your store of herbs.” The prospect that Keaira would not allow Yullen to come along upon this trip to the market was apparent. Yullen was selfless however, and still took to heart Theoren’s command to protect her in all things. She would endure under these harsh conditions as it was her ability to do so. Aerillia though, she was not so sure. She was a human and humans tended to be soft and require things that Keaira did not provide faithfully.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Apr 29, 2005 21:03:58 GMT -5
The shock of Yullen's voice was soon dulled as the woman started hatching out a plan. When asked whether or not she wanted to kill Keaira or run from her, Aerillia's eyes harden visibly. Shifting her body weight to accommodate her injuries, Aerillia spats to the side. "To see how she has treated you and the countless others in this hellish place..." Aerillia shakes her head, dark ebony tresses playing over her maimed tan flesh, "I do not simply wish for the death of this woman, I lust for it."
The fire in Aerillia's eyes would be much to the same effect Yullen had seen before. Striding over to Yullen the Desert Rose ignores the pain in her limbs and the protest of her body. "I will not leave you behind alone to suffer this madness. Besides, Keaira will never allow me out to find herbs. She does not trust me, and were she to let me I doubt I could find my way out without her guidance. No, I have a hunch that we will have to do this soon while I still have my sanity, or what is left of it." Madness threatened the edges of Aerillia's conciousness and she could feel it. Teasing, tantalizing, offering escape when Aerillia wanted nothing but blood. She cared nothing that the blood was acidic, it would bleed all the same.
"Theoren would have wanted me to help you if I could. Now that I can, I will." Would was an obvious link to something in the past and Yullen would no doubt link to it so Aerillia strove to clarify. "Yullen, Theo died some time ago, several weeks to be exact. With his death, all of his live offspring too perished. I am no longer pregnant with his child." The thought still pained Aerillia more than any whip or implement of torture could ever suffice to rip her asunder. Waiting for this to sink in with Yullen, Aerillia moves to the dress Yullen had lain out for her while she was in her stupor.
Touching the fine fabric, the priestess winces at the idea of it rubbing against her sore flesh, but what else could she do? She had to look the part and act the part. Before she puts the dress on however, she walks over to the mirror and glances into it longingly. She still looked the same, save for the piercing of her nose. Reaching up with one hand to touch the pin, Aerillia glances back to Yullen. "I have become her pin cushion." Shaking her head, Aerillia pulls the dress on her body and fixes herself as best she can before turning to Yullen.
Despite the lashings on her body Aerillia has the potential to look regal. "We have one shot to make this work. Listen, my friend, while I tell you my ability." Moving close to Yullen Aerillia begins to tell her about her ability to manipulate air as an element. Standing alone the element itself could be highly powerful, just as any of the elements would be. "I need a short amount of time to work up my ability. I can do it without seeming to, so what say you? Do we end this today?"
Her words against the Queen, treachery.
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Post by Keaira on May 17, 2005 3:23:37 GMT -5
: After leaving Aerillia and Yullen to their own devices, she would wander in the direction of her own chambers situated several doors down. She was still clothed in the disgusting "peasant garb" she had worn on her last conquest and that was certainly a situation that needed to be remedied. Her fingers plucked at the crimson blouse, face twisted into an expression of obvious disgust. While the garment was obviously made of the highest quality silk and well manufactured by the finest of craftman, it was still beneath her self proclaimed posistion of high esteem. And her sister was here--she wanted to make a good impression by blatantly displaying the wealth granted to her through slave labor. Kea always hoped that she could convert Kela to her mindset by showing her the benefits that could be reaped by exploiting other, lesser creatures.
Lips are curled upward into what might almost be classified as a smile as she enters her dressing rooms, fingers smoothly gliding over the garments which were meticulously hung along three walls, the third dominated by a large mirror--modesty was certainly not a word that could be used in reference to Kea. Shuffling through the racks, she impatiently waited for the slave she had summoned for assistance. Far be it for Keaira to lift so much as a finger towards her own personal care. After all, she had to save her strength for more important matters, such as torturing those insignificant specks she allowed the pleasure of serving her. Thirty minutes later, she would stalk once more through the halls of her domain, an elegant floor length gown of Oriental origins clinging to her lithe form. The metallic threads intricately embroidered into the soft silk glittered like gems in the flickering candlelight. Her raven black hair had been combed until it to glistened, then twisted into some elaborate knot, the silver strands worked into the tips and her bangs giving off a sparkle. Even her nails had been freshly sharpened and colored blood red--she had pulled out all the stops!
She moves swiftly through the cooridors of her personal hell, green eyes having the slightly glazed look of one trapped within a daydream. Keaira did not usually stay within the fantasy realms her mind created for more than two or three minute spurts and never before had she mingled fantasy with reality to such an extent that fantasy BECAME reality. This case of paramnesia seemed to have her completely disoriented, to such an extent that she didn't even strike out at various slaves who crossed her path while in the process of completing their chores. Many slaves cringed upon hearing the even, self-assured click of her heels upon the stone floor, preparing for the inevitable pain that Kea's passing always signified. She *never* missed the chance to add to the misery of her property...not ever. And thus many cowering upon the floor in dreaded anticipation were given a pleasant reprieve as she passed by without even pausing.
Only once she was in the kitchen did she resume her true mannerisms, barking orders and striking when they weren't obeyed quick enough to suit her. Could the idiots not understand that this was her sister who was visiting? How hard was it realize that things had to be absolutely perfect and nothing less would be acceptable. The anger at having her wishes and desires taken so lightly sent venom pulsating through her veins, reviving her in a sense. Only when each of those in charge of the evening meal had been given sufficient bruises and lacerations to remind them to get things right and perfect was Keaira satisfied. Again she set out to stalk the halls, making up for her lack of interest in coming by beating doubly hard those she passed in going. A quick visit with her daughter to command her presence at the feast, and then she would return to Kela's suite
Keaira most often kept meticulous track of her slave, especially those she allowed the privaleg of leaving to do her bidding. Always when Cira returned from her quests for gold, the impatient woman was perched upon her throne, ready to accept the coinage that was her right, ready to cause significant pain to the young theif if she was simply a second late, a mere copper below the outrageously high quoto the illogical Kea set for her. But today, she seemed to not even realize that Cira should have returned by now. She was much too eager for the company of her sister whom she had not conversd with in so long.to bother with the tattooed bitch. She did not bother with knocking, barging right into the room.
"Did you rest well?" Keaira inquires of her supposed sister. She would not have noticed if Aeri still remained nude...so deeply was she involved with her fantasy that she had superimposed Kela's image onto Aeri. Looking at her she saw flawless skin the color of fresh milk instead of horrifically mangled dark flesh. In her eyes Aeri's hair was silky black with strands of silver laced through and she wore her favorite dress of green and blue. And there would be no convincing Kea of anything different. Her gaze moves disapprovingly to Yullen, who was just standing there like a lazy bum, or worse yet, a free person. Obviously the girl was taking advantagee of time out of her Mistress's gaze and seeing just what she could get away with. "I hope my property has not given you any trouble. How has her behaviour withing your presence been? " It was obvious this was a bit of a test for Yullen, Kea's chance to see just how broken the woman was, and it was a test she was failing miserably. Apparently she still had work to do if less then an hour under the supervision of another had her daring to slack of and forgetting her rightful place upon her knees. Bringing herself in front of Yullen, ,she would brutally strike her against the face. "Down on the ground, bitch!" She roughly snarls. Stepping back, she would return her attention to Kela, arms crossing befor her chest. She would give a shake of her head, tsking. "You're simply too soft Kela. You need to show the slut who's in charge...go on, smack her around a bit. You'll feel better and she'll respect you and be grateful to you for helping her remember her place."
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Cira
Newbie
Posts: 12
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Post by Cira on May 29, 2005 1:11:07 GMT -5
Re-entry into Keaira’s Realm was an activity that had almost taken on ceremonial role in Cira’s life. If not running late, which, thank god, she was not, she would take a moment and stare up at the sky, absorbing the sun or stars into her eyes and skin as though their light could somehow last her through the darkness of the realm. Then, checking carefully for the fifth or sixth time to see that she was not followed, she would slip through the portal. No matter how many times she entered this hidden hell, the smell always made her want to wretch. Slowly she would breathe in deeply, taking in the odor and adjusting to it until she barely noticed the mix of feces, rotting flesh, vomit, and mold. Here, by the exit she would store her rags of clothes and weapon. The gold for Keaira was the only worldly item that ever was brought past the entrance.
Her fresh nudity seemed as natural here as clothes had in the outside room. She made her way through her labyrinth by a muscle memory somehow gained from Keaira when given the permission to leave the realm. It was here in these seemingly endless hallways that Cira began to adjust back mentally. While trudging past the bodies of those who had lost their way, Cira began to force herself to forget hope. It was always her fear that Keaira would smell it on her, find the cause and rip it away. During this walk was when she told herself lies until they became real to her, making them easy and sincere to regurgitate in Keaira. By the time she exited the maze she was ready to face the woman once more, dull and obedient, too frightened to ever consider disobeying her mistress, wishing only to please her.
Where was she? Never had Cira been left so long, kneeling on the throne room floor, waiting to give Keaira the gold that she had collected. This was the first time that Keaira had not been perched and ready to draw blood for any coin not accounted for. On any other day, her tardiness would be a welcome relief. To spend an hour or two, kneeling motionless on the floor was a rare opportunity to rest weary bones, even perhaps shut her eyes for a moment. This was not, though, the time for such activities. She wanted to find Aerillia, talk to the desert woman, let her know of her contact with the Queen. It was Cira’s job, now, to make sure that Aerillia did not do anything stupid to get herself killed. How the hell was she supposed to accomplish such a thing if she must remain here for her mistress’ return? It was not impossible that Keaira was still torturing Aerillia. Usually such sessions rarely lasted more than a couple of hours but occasionally, if a slave was uncooperative, or the mistress particularly zealous, there was no telling what could occur. The whole plan would be worthless if Aerillia was off getting herself killed while she sat like a lump on the throne room floor.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Jun 15, 2005 19:18:41 GMT -5
Aerillia had her back to Keaira as she entered. A glance was to be shared between herself and Yullen before Aerillia turned to Kea for the show of a lifetime. Fully clothed, even if it did hurt to move, Aeri moved to Kea as she berated Yullen.
"She was more than helpful, Sister." Aerillia smiled and worked the lie well. "I have rested enough. I would like to eat a little something if it isn’t too much trouble." That, in fact, was not a lie at all. It had been hours or even days since last Aerillia had eaten something. She knew not which.
Fighting the well of despair that coiled about her gut like a vicious snake, the Desert Rose stepped closer to Kea. The woman smelled clean at least. Had she smelled of the rot and fetid water in her home, Aerillia would not have been able to keep from retching what meager stores she had left in her belly. With the utmost care the dark beauty managed to keep hatred and not a little fear out of her eyes as she beheld Keaira.
The outer pleasantries were all masking the inner struggle for supremacy over innate power. The power was nature bound and thus nigh untraceable by Kea should she even think something awry. Indeed, when the power of Air was in question--could one fight against what was unseen? A greater part of her reserved power was locked deep inside herself, waiting for the day when it would be needed. Today would be that day.
Aerillia smiled at Kea as she came to stand next to her 'Sister', for nothing changed from her ritualistic behavior. Or so it seemed.
Deeper. The hand of fate had dealt her a most unhealthy lot in life. Stretch. Aiming for the core of her being, Aerillia struggles with the demons of her past as she reaches to unlock the gate holding back her power.
Just a little closer to Kea now. A few more pleasantries...
When the proverbial dam broke within her, Aerillia shuddered visibly, but it appeared to be of nothing more than a chill. For the briefest of moments she fears that the power might ooze from her pores and present itself for Kea to see. That would be next to impossible and an irrational fear. "How are you feeling, Sister? You look tired." The Desert Rose smiled to Kea in a sisterly manner as the power flooded her, causing her fingertips to tingle and her heart to leap in elation. The feeling soothed her, opened her, and fed her determination for the task at hand.
"I may be able to help if anything is plaguing you." Another cheshire cat smile that Kea, in her delusional state, might not notice to be a bit more cat-like.
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