Dreamwaking: Chimera - Sacrifice.

[Carnath-Emory]

"Lies."

The word has all the bleak finality of unpolished ice. It is a breath of sound into the air between them, quiet and low and uncompromising, and when it dissipates there is a challenge left in the swordswoman's grey eyes.

"As it were with my student, mn? When you make a kastrirovat' drunkard of him?" Accusations, charges levelled upon the girl, and fragments of sound charge the atmosphere with living frost, a thin and punishing sleet that spirals through hair, collides with cheeks and chins, freezes extremities.

"There was no pleasure in that; do you mean to say this? That there was no satisfaction? Here between we two, do you intend -- "

A stillness has come upon her. A quiet that is marked by the particular attention which the swordswoman pays to Rhaen's unearthly eyes, such interest that she has lent slightly forward upon her bare toes, has tilted her head and regarded this with a narrowing of her own grey gaze.

It resolves slowly into a smile.

"Hello, Glenn Burnie. I know you'll be watching this. And good day to you also, Governor, for I've no doubt it will be for your eyes as well. And Agnieszka's? Do you see this now, Chestoljubec? And perhaps even --

"Elspeth von Drakken, mne khuy'manda mudozvon, if you have eyes upon this now, know that someone will answer for it -- "

There was a point during this at which the thing lodged into her collarbone had begun to trouble her, an itching that had become a burn, so that she'd begun to scratch at it through her thin tunic. But this has only made it sting, and the dig of her short nails beneath its edge has interrupted her here, has left her sucking in a thin, hissing breath between her teeth. Turning then, she moves onwards once more, but this time there's a hand lifted to beckon Rhaena, as if the girl were to fall back into step at her side.

"It's not we two at all," the swordswoman remarks, low and easy. "Your dreamcatcher watches us this very moment, mn? It watches all of this through your eyes. So perhaps I bind them --

"Hah! No. I make a witness of you, Rhaena Olwak. You will keep by my side, and you will keep your eyes open and careful, and you will set them upon every thing that follows this moment. You will omit nothing, no matter how vile, no matter how foul. And while you are doing this, I will ensure that you live."

Oh, there's a grin, sent broad and sidelong towards the other woman, and there is only a moment's pause here, long enough to set her eyes upon Rhaena's once more, solemn-featured and quiet.

"Nadeyus'ty moya," she murmurs. "Ya tak lyublyu tebia."

And with a small inclination of the head she is turned again, is moving with sure, firm stride towards the distant ring of voices.

[Malaroth]

The woman is offered nothing beyond the stoic mask of his cold countenance, drawn into a grim scowl and hard, straight lines. His cold demeanor is a powerful blanket for him, warming and comforting in this terrible world where the ground pulses with unearthly veins and the air itself is a venemous, disgusting fume.

She asks him for her freedom? Oh how another had not so long ago, another trapped within her own world - another angel with scabbed, obsidian wings hidden beneath fair features and seeming helplessness. In all respects the same except for one thing; the other had, at least, helped him in some palpable fashion. This pathetic creature seemed content only to snivel and demand.

Immediately his lips parted, caught between the trimemd length of a goatee, while arctic eyes skewered her to the very spot she stood. It was a good thing that he had not made his demands in repsonse: demands for her punishment, her abject humiliation, and a painful death. Already he his mind teased him with visions of the scantily clad creature spread upon the pulsing, twisted earth; broken as all such foul creatures should be.

He saw the shadows at the corner of his vision smile, given sanctuary by the bizarre limbs of the closest, fleshy tree. They were on his side, he asserted to himself, the entirety of his thoughts warring and fuming beneath a perpetual scowl and lined brow.

"I am not your captor," he began even as his thoughts echoed: but I am your destruction.

"I did not bring you here." But I will see you locked here forever.

"But we should move." Before my patience runs out.

He followed her as she began to wander off again, clearing his throat in demand for her obedience while his hand sought her shoulder to bring her to a halt.

"We should go this way," he gestured with his other hand while the loose length of his maroon sleeve gaped like an open maw. "Up that slope for a better view of the terrain."

[Jirai]

There are voices not so far away, words that she might perhaps here - had not Ariane earned such complete attention from the scaled girl. Attention, and reaction for those first words, a flash of both hurt and anger.

"I did not do that deliberately! I had no idea it would happen - if you think I would intentionally harm him..."

But Ariane stops abruptly, staring in a way that made the girl most uncomfortable, and her next words have Rhaena entirely confused, quite obviously so. Has the woman gone mad? Speaking to Glenn, to Calomel... Oh. The Dreamcatcher. A thing she had completely forgotten about, brought back to mind.

She followed Ariane - what other choice was there? At least there is some good to come out of this, that Ariane no longer seems likely to run her through with that knife. Of course, such things change. But there were other voices now, familiar ones. It is something she is thankful for, for being alone with Ariane is almost worse than being truly alone in this horrible place, a place she strives not to look too closely at. The swordswoman's back is a far better place to rest her gaze, and she does so.

[Cinnabar]

"Why not back to Thessilane? Join Burel's army, if you've a taste for bloodshed. You're a murderer. You're better off well away from Myrken Wood, if you don't want to live in the forest like an animal for the rest of your life. Maybe even start anew someplace else. Try again, hm?" There's a difference between fugitive and exile, certainly. At least one offers the chance of a normal life, regardless of what was left behind. At least then he'd be somebody else's problem.

"Maybe you should tell her that. Give her the chance for a fresh start. Even if you've fucked up your life, no reason she should do the same to hers on your account." And that's the crux of it, really. He's burned his bridges in Myrken Wood, and quite spectacularly so. Why drag her down with him?

There's a vigorous waving of arms for a short while, though, and it seems that those figures down below have noticed his shouting; a moment longer spent calling out to them, a wordless hail through cupped hands before he glances back to the mercenary and shrugs, a few more steps to keep those below in sight.

"What does it mean? This? I... you know, I really couldn't say. I'm not sure that it has a meaning, beyond seeing what happens. Some sort of test, perhaps; put people in a strange place, force them together, force them to rely on one another, then watch what they do. Somewhere they can act freely, somewhere aside from the rest of the world. Somewhere simpler. Though uglier, it would seem." A shrug, grey gaze fixed on the pair winding their way up the hillside.

"Ariane might know more. I think she met the person behind these visions. The one before, with the same knives." Not exactly dreams, since... well, that's a foolish question - his dreams always feel this real, scent and sound and touch and temperature on his skin. But there's always something else; it's taken a while to notice, masked as it was by the stink of filth and bile and putrescence, but underneath it all there's a faint scent of cold stone, of mountain air. Almost entirely masked, but not quite. It brings a faint smile to his lips, meanwhile, and if he closes his eyes he can almost feel gritted rock beneath his feet, rather than the moist and cancerous flesh that his gaze shows him. Intrigued, pacing the hilltop like a penned cat, turning aside from the approaching Ariane and Rhaena to sweep the rest of the landscape, though his attention returns every so often to those two.

"You can ask her, when she gets here."

[Raveness]

Deep within her own thoughts, she scarcely heard his reply, but it was as she imagined. He denied. They always deny. Her bare feet tread through the wooded area, while her mind churned. He had brought her here without clothes to this hell place.

The cold was getting to the woman and she wrapped her arms around her frame to try and shut out the breeze that bit through the trees and her nightgown. Perhaps he had brought her here with what little she had on to have his way with her. Maybe even a few times before he killed her. She thought of what the people back in Myrken would say if they found out. What would Cambree think? The thoughts made tears come to her eyes, but she tried to hide them. Must stay strong. What if she never saw her cousin again?

Her stomach moaned again and for a moment, she thought it might spill its contents once more, but somehow she managed to choke back the bile. It was too much, this whole thing was just too much. The cold, the man, the looming threat of what was to come.

It was here, in her darkened thoughts, that she almost lost it, when his hand touched her shoulder. Her body jerked hard, and had she had a weapon, most certainly she would have used it in self defense at that very moment. Instead, a cry escaped her lips, a cry of someone who knew they were going to die. She pulled back, away from his touch cowering, stumbled and then fell to the ground as she lost her footing.

Under normal circumstances, she probably would have stayed where she was for a moment, but before he could touch her again, or offer to help her up, if he even would, she rose to her feet. Her body ached from the skeleton trees had scraped her flesh, but she moved to follow him this time behind him, eager to let him lead.

Why would he want to get a better view? A better view of where to kill her? Bury her? Or worse? She didn't ask. Instead she tried to keep up with him, which wasn't easy at all. She was much smaller than him, and most of her long journeys into the town to trade Cambee's teas had been not on foot, but by horseback. Oh how she longed for a horse now.

And home. And Cambree. Even the tea house. But mostly she longed to be safe.

"My name is Lavender.." She offered, so quietly he might not hear her with the thunder of the wind against the hollow trees. Perhaps if she was nice.... but her heart thundered in her chest and her mind whispered over and over
you're dead .. you're dead.

[Vanidor]

"I do no be one of his men. Else I would have taken you down the moment you did proclaim yourself, and then proclaimed the province for him, hrm?" A slide of eyes towards Cinnabar. What do you think of that. "I cannot say that I would have fought him, I know when to be suicidal and when not to be, think so or otherwise." Again, the knife twirled in his hands. His eyes were moving now towards the approaching Swordswoman.

"I do know about loyalty, though, Calomel. As does Ariane." Eyes focused upon her a moment, upon the other who strode with her. "I have held some of her secrets. Things you may know, some you may not. We are all murderers, here. With our own reasons, some that make sense and some that do no." He stopped twirling the knife. Held it still and looked down at the bottom of it. At the words that were etched into the pommel. Use Me.

Another moment. "I would rather be in an Enclave. The concerns of the world do no touch there unless they are brought into them. Well, at least Coron Darien's enclave do be like that. I could stay there the rest of my life, perhaps. You should come, I think. There is... there is peace, there, Calomel. Unlike anything else I have ever experienced. I do not lust for blood, there. For action. For Agnieszka, perhaps." The man laughed to himself with this, for he was certainly completely unapologetic. "Too much, perhaps. You ask why I do no just let her go?"

"I am selfish, yes? As bad as we are for one another, there is comfort there." He glanced downwards at the knife again. "Remind me not to kiss anyone, this time. I would prefer to keep myself alive. And you, as well, I wager." So then he would glance towards the approaching Ariane and Rhaena.

[Cinnabar]

"You could've tried. Still, just because you're not the Duke's man now doesn't mean the potential's not there. Maybe if you make yourself useful and kiss his ring with enough enthusiasm he might even make you a Count." A grin at that, and a light shrug. Just an idea, hey.

"A finely-honed instinct for self-preservation makes sense." An Enclave, then. That makes sense, given how he'd headed off into the wilderness. "But I'd suggest that if you want to stay alive, you'd do better to put more distance between yourself and Myrken than that. You're not lacking in those who'd go a long way to bring certain concerns to you. Don't imagine that the hospitality of the elves will last forever if you draw trouble to their doorstep. More trouble than you're worth, most likely." And what exactly is he worth to them? A pet, perhaps. Some uncouth human barbarian who might swagger and fart and scratch himself for their amusement, perhaps. A fleeting diversion from fading centuries spent in their timeless woodland hideaway.

Another circuit of the hilltop meanwhile, pausing a moment to peer down in the direction of that pair he's spotted, currently obscured by some thicket of swaying spines and sinews. They'll get here soon enough.

"Put it another way: you killed a promising young Constable, in broad daylight, in the middle of a tavern. It's not like I can just leave you to sit pretty out in the woods for the rest of your days." Assuming the elves could put up with him for that long. Not a trivial assumption by any means.

"Justice must be seen to be done."

[Vanidor]

"If you mean to see Justice done, Calomel, then you do be needing to start closer to home, eh. Those whom you look towards for advice and assistance are just as deserving. In any case, it was no in broad day-light, more like the middle of the night. Darker than the underside of a drow's ass, to tell the truth." He adjusted the shirt wrapping that circled his waist. Every time you made that circuit, Cinnabar, he was sure to be standing in such a manner that his backside was right there. No shame what so ever.

"That one, she has a past as dangerous as mine. Moreso, even for here in Myrken itself. But I am sure, yes, that you have sorted that out already. A man such as yourself seeks to know all that circles him, yes?" Aeryn then started to trim the nails of his left hand. "Of course, she is actually useful to you. Me? I led the men who put an arrow into you. Your Constables though, put up a good fight for being outnumbered and ill trained. I always did mean to commend them with that."

"What the hell be taking them so long to get up this flaming hill?" He continued to trim his nails, and tap a foot that was cooking the bloody soil beneath his steps, but he was watching and waiting now.

[Carnath-Emory]

"I think that intent played no part in it at all," she's continuing over her shoulder, as they near that hill; some part of the swordswoman had expected a mound composed of severed and quivering things, so that she is surely the only dreamer here to have found an element of relief in this landscape.

"And I think if that patch-eyed barkeep served you arsenic instead of ale tomorrow -- by accident," she grins back towards the girl, "you'd not care much about her intent either.

"Which ought I better detest, Rhaena Olwak? The mentalist who commits deliberate atrocity? Or the ignorant one who has accidents? And -- poeben'! -- with the man you love! Hah. I'd rather your brother than you. Better a brute than a fool, mn?"

Does the dreamcatcher capture sounds as well as sights? Does it observe their dreaming world through more than just Rhaena's eyes? But in either case, she is fallen silent now; those who review this hours and days from now, they will for a time be afforded nothing but the sight of a swordswoman's back, as a hill is climbed, and a hand lifted in silent greeting to the men who wait above.

Calomel.
Karolinger.
And a third guest, hanging silent between them: a reason that they've not yet butchered each other.

[Jirai]

She says nothing. Absolutely nothing. But oh, those words hit deeply, Ariane. Did the swordswoman glance back she might find those odd eyes filled with tears that the girl refuses to shed. Lips pressed tightly together, shoulders hunched, Rhaena picks her way up the hill, trying not to see what it is made of. Ariane offers a wave to the nearby men - Rhaena just glances briefly at them before returning to stare silently at the swordswoman's back.

[Lent]

They had been walking for some time now, a few minutes at the very least. Both men were well-suited to silence and they had fallen into it, finally. In the distance, two figures became four. Shapes were finally starting to take on more distinct appearances though they were still occasionally obscured by the changing landscape. Regardless, it was plain what was before them. Two women, two men, coming together to form one group.

At a brisk pace, it would still be minutes before Lentham and the elf would meet them.

The pace might be a bit quicker than brisk, however, for the Detective Constable has finally gotten a good look at one of the men. "Bloodmoon, either you're the world's luckiest elf or the world's tallest Leprechaun because even in this hell of ours, we've found Karolinger. Only one thing to do now. Bastard is going find out something, see. If this IS hell, he's going to learn where you get sent if you die here."

A flick of Lentham's wrist triggered the dropping of his blackjack into his right hand. The Dagger, clever words and all, was still at his belt. For once, however, he drew the Falchion that had been taken into the woods, that he slept with every night. He was no expert with the weapon, not being a formal member of the Night Watch, but given his nocturnal proclivities, he had more than basic training with it.

The Detective Constable's pace stayed steady. He and Bloodmoon would move alongside the the terrain, masking themselves until they were close enough to strike. It meant that, perhaps, there would be little chance to find out just who was with Karolinger until the very last moment, but for what the well-armed and slightly deranged man had in mind, it really didn't matter, now did it?

[Tebrin]

"You don' scare me, Jirai. I know y'wish y'did. But, fine. 'AVe i' yer way. We'll find some poor, gutless fool for yeh t'ave yer fun with."

Better anyone else than him. And when she was distracted... the treasure smiled a saccharin smile for the disfigured Drowess. "Lead the way." He gestured behind Jirai, into the distance of the disfigured and grotesque landscape. He didn't know where they were going to start.

[Malaroth]

The girl lagged behind, further and further, as she struggled to keep pace with his long strides. The ground was an abominable thing, and yet it had to be traversed. Grim scowl and narrowed eyes, expectant of some otherworldly monster to prey upon them, stole his attention away from the loathsomeness of this putrid world. As did the girl.

Ah, yes, Lavender. She had a name.

That she lingered, and slowed, and whispered her name into the winds that darted about them with ravening spectral hands began to screw one hand into a fist. Nails felt the bite of a pale palm while the wind toyed with the loose-fitting shirt. Bare feet occasionally pressed upon some noxious dampness of foul vein that he thought the better of regarding whatever he had just traversed.

His other hand, seeking expression, gave in to the seeming hopelessness of their situation and began to play about the base of his collar bone. As time wore on, immeasurable in this weird land, they wandered down his sternum and to the waist of slacks whose cuffs now trailed visceral landscape behind him. They found the reassuring cool grasp of the knife he had awoken with and began to play along the handle's length.

"You are also slow," he muttered, regarding her over one shoulder. "But I suppose you are more used to flying than walking. I imagine the infernal realms are not kind to bare feet."

"Though such a place seems spat up from just there." He waited for her to catch up to him, and adjusted his pace to hers in an attempt to stay alongside her. No back or shoulder blades, unarmored, for this hell-wench. "Why did you drag me here? Is it out of vengeance for your relation? Were you also imprisoned within a blade?"

Let her deny it, he growled to himself, as his fingers wove around the knife's handle - smooth and cold, cold as his ashen countenance and straight scowl. The world blew golden hair, steaked in stoic silver, across his countenance in a grim veil.

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Silence, on occaision, was the best friend a man could have. Even better, though, was to have an actual companion that was just as suited to silence as one's self. Seth was trying to guage just who those two figures, and now four it would appear, were. Being unsure as to who they may be about to encounter was cause to have a hand at the ready to draw Twilight Heart. The knife would be ignored in favor of the sword... then again the knife did have the words 'Use Me' on its pommel.

"Lucky elf, not the luckiest... Cause I'm definately no Leprechaun... I'd be fending off fools left and right as they tired to steal me pot o' gold..," a trace of humor in those first words. His tone would grow serious, however, with what he speaks next, "Remember what the notes we found said? 'They die, you die. You die, they die'..," a glance to Kurt, "Others may be connected in a similar way in this place... If you kill Karolinger you may end up killing someone who is completely innocent at the same time..," of course judging Kurt's hunger to slay Karolinger these words will not make the man hold back. Still, maybe they would and Seth could not leave them unspoken.

His pace would be as steady as Kurt's as they continued their approach and he was silent once more. There was a slight frown beginning to take shape on Seth's face. He had a bad feeling about what might just occur when they reached those four. That kind of feeling a person just can't shake off.

[Raveness]

Her feet ached as she stumbled along, trying to keep up with him and not lag too far behind. However, he seemed to slow down a little and Lavender was thankful for such. She wanted to rest, but didn't dare ask for it. Perhaps she could manage a break when they reached their destination. Or perhaps this was going to be how he killed her.. exhaustion, until she just collapsed.

Then he spoke. At first she thought he might be trying to be nice and then she realized such was not the case. Her green eyes gazed at his own and her forehead furrowed in confusion. "Fly? Infernal realms? Wha..?"

She lifted a hand up to rub her left temple. "I don't fly. Ever." She never had. Her voice was frayed at the ends, but she wasn't angry just tired and bewildered by his words. Perhaps even a bit terrified by the whole ordeal.

"Me? Bring you here? You brought -me- here. Vengeance for what exactly? Why would I seek vengeance on you? I barely even know you. My kind doesn't seek vengeance on anyone...."

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she swallowed, turning to face him, as they kept walking, much slower now, since she felt like she might be able to slow his pace once more. Her legs were trembling and Lavender struggled to pretend that everything was fine.

Everything was not fine.

Her head tilted and she knitted her eyebrows together. "Imprisoned in a blade? You were?" The woman tried to not look as surprised as she was, but her voice gave her away. Curious as to how anyone could be imprisoned within a blade.

"Are we now? Is that what this is? Did you really not mean to bring me here?" Her eyes narrowed a little, but she considered for the first time, that this might not have been his doing. Was he really as trapped as she was? Or was this all a trick?

Her hand moved up to her collar bone and her fingers found the jewel hidden there. Unsure of what it was, she pulled her chemise back and gazed down at it. Stunned, she gasped and then glanced up at him, backing away, eyes wide with horror.

"What is this? Did you do this to me? Is this some sort of sick slavery?" Something cold was indeed embedded in her body. It glowed, she noticed, glowed the colour crimson, the colour of blood. Lavender felt her stomach lurch again. Just when things looked better, they always got worse...

Moihes her mind echoed to her and terrified she wanted to run.