Dreamwaking: Chimera - Sacrifice.

[Glenn]

"There isn't time for this, Malar.. Sir Malaroth." Would that be enough? Glenn knew how it bristled the knight to be called anything without his title. The easy answer was that NOTHING would be enough, truly. If the dream was made of memories, then anything Malaroth knew of Glenn could be used against him. The most that could be proven is that he was an accurate representation of what Malaroth knew of the mapmaker.

So far as Glenn knew, however, no one had spoken to the knight about the dreams. He had been lucky enough to have Agnie with him. She let him know what he might not have recognized on her own. There was a vague familiarity to the woman with Malaroth, but she was likely not in the know either.

It meant that all he had to do was prove that he was a Glenn that Malaroth could recognize. There was one quick and easy way, and maybe it was out of frustration and maybe it was because of the need to convince him quickly that he looked to the larger man with steeled eyes and said simply and for all to hear. "I know your shame, Malaroth Deucalios. Do we move now, or need you hear more?" It was proof. It should have been enough. If it was not, then perhaps it was a veiled threat as well. There was NO time for this.

[Raveness]

The young woman cast her glassy gaze over at Malaroth and then up at Glenn. She sort of recognized him as someone Cambree had hung out with before, perhaps at the mask party, she thought, but wasn't sure. Never sure. Not now anyways. She was lucky she knew her name, if she even did. At this point in time, whether she knew people or not didn't seem to matter as they were all in this together for whatever reason.

She gently tries to pull her hand away from Malaroth, in hopes that he will stand and go with Glenn without her. Her feet ached, her stomach churned, and a dull numbness blanketed her body. Lavender wasn't even sure she could stand, let alone walk.

"Please, let me rest.. you go... just not.. far." She begged him, pleaded with her eyes. Her head then turned to glance back to Glenn, hoping he would be on her side and allow her the moment to rest, to breathe.

"We can be a few feet away from each other.. it has happened before... Please.. I think he wants to speak with you alone." Lavender would lean farther back against the tree, as if it could swallow her up with its skeletal remains. No one else, she thought, no one should have to see her wings, if this was going to be the reaction.

[Tebrin]

Tebrin fixed Ariane with an odd look. It pleaded with her to kill Jirai - and simultaneously warned her against it. Jirai's life was linked to his own, and it was only a sick sense of self-preservation that would have him slay Ariane in her protection. A grim shake of his head indicated to the swordswoman just what he thought of her chances of convincing Jirai to move peacefully - and then green eyes focused upon Malaroth, brandishing a dagger against Glenn.

He bristled, reaching for his own dagger, prepared to fling it bodily at Malaroth if necessary... Except that, of course, he could not leave Jirai's side. What sort of hell WAS this? Back to Ariane, then, and he forced the grimmest of smiles for her.

"H'lo, Ariane. Lovely day, isn' it? Wha's yer plan?"

[channe]

"Come on," she says, reaching out to grasp her friend's hand. "We'll dance. We'll dance," she says, meaning: while yours talks to Jirai and mine to Malaroth; we'll fight Koschei with our feet moving and our arms akimbo. But before she does, she tries to draw Rhaena close, to whisper --

"Jirai will try to kill. Not Ariane; she can't kill Ariane. One of us. Glenn." And, to forestall talk, she clutches Rhaena's wrist. "Rhaena. If Jirai or Malaroth tries to kill any of us; any of us, we fight. We die. And -- and perhaps we wake up; that's faith, isn't it? There's somethin' better beyond this, an' maybe -- well. Take your knife, Rhaena. Take it and dance. If I have to die, this fucker won't win. Not on Cinnabar's blood. Not on Aeryn's. Fuck that. I've taught you shit. If she attacks, we kill her. You understand? We kill her. You an' me."

[Malaroth]

Indeed, when the stranger was more comforting than the familiar, than the possible friend, things were not good - not good at all. For those words the knight regarded Burnie at first with confusion, then dawning realization, and a scowl sharp enough to rend flesh from bones and eyes to match. The stumbling over his title painted that scowl with mild sorrow, a softening accompanied by a sigh.

The mapmaker would not bother with kindness. It seemed the man rarely did.

"You are right," he offered with words as empty and hollow as a looted tomb. "You would make a terrible knight."

For there was no need of titles, he knew, in this forsaken place - not really - not save as an outward attempt to remember such important things as honor and order in a world turned upside down. But rather than offer some remark pertaining to their shared experience of Zachea, or even to the blue-petaled and black-thorned Mul Roses, Glenn instead opted for a weapon.

"No," he offered to Lavender without turning to regard the woman. His stirred anger at the cartographer had drawn his attention, and focused it with the gleeful imagination that saw him wreaking his frustration upon one of the inner circle of Myrken's incestuous politics. "There is nothing more to be said between us, I think. Save an explanation of where we are, and why."

Keeping a wary eye for the others, even for Ariane, in whom he thought he possessed a budding trust that now, too, lay in doubt - he murmured quietly for Lavender. "We can be seperated yes, but I trust none of these. It seems if we are seperated, we are easier to kill, no?"

A silent, probing and knowing glance broached the curve of her shoulder beneath that chemise she wore before returning to her own. For her there was little steel left, it had been turned outward, for all the rest. How quickly his allegiances shifted in the face of cruel betrayal.

"Fear not for your back," he whispered. "Gain your strength while standing, while pacing," he continued as the two girls began to dance of all things. Given the occasional throbbing of the gem whenever they halted, and the warning upon the scrawled note, his brow furrowed with the drawing of truth from all these commonalities.

"If need be I will give you my shirt, to wrap around yourself. It should be large and heavy enough to serve as a small blanket."

With that he climbed to his feet, releasing her hand as the girl was not, and had never been, his prisoner. Yet once standing he extended it again, along with a pained sigh.

[Carnath-Emory]

Anything could have come of this moment, this threshold of action.

How simple might it have been to match Jirai's smile with her own, to express some appreciation for this notion of satisfaction, and incidentally suggest Malaroth as being very well-suited to this purpose. Not but a moment's exchange, that would have been, and one which would have saved Glenn from the knight's menacing blade. A smile, a gesture, hardly a word required at all.

How painful might it have been to free her blade and shatter a truce which had held for several years. Jirai is death incarnate when her weapon's a knife, but she delivers them more effectively from a distance; at close-quarters .. Well, it would have been an interesting death for them to share, and she could think of worse company for it. It would spare Glenn Burnie's life, just long enough for him to watch Rhaena's end --

For some brief, terrible moment, she does not find this notion entirely unwelcome. Glenn Burnie had not hesitated to command ...

This threshold of action, upon which she is paused for one moment, two, three and four and then lips are parted, a gaze turned steady back towards Jirai. And the swordswoman will never know what she'd been about to say, because Tebrin chooses this moment to intervene. The sickness in his eyes immediately clarifies his attachment to the drow, which changes nothing at all. His question, however, does.

"Their plan is to keep walking -- until their legs fail them, mn? Which they must, eventually, unless we wake before then. I doubt that we will. What say you?"

A questioning glance is shot towards drow Jirai, then; there's some very bitter amusement in her grey eyes.

[Jirai]

Lavender need not be afraid of their reaction to her wings, if this girl's scaled face was any indication... but perhaps it was not. Things were so hard to tell, in this horror world.

There was a hand tightly in Agnieszka's, the other wrapped distastefully around Glenn's knife as the girl listened to her friend. She listened, but her eyes were elsewhere, darting between Ariane and Glenn, not so far distant. Jirai would try to kill. That much was obvious, expected. But Malaroth? The girl did not know the man much at all, but he was a knight. Why would he try to kill them? And so that drew a confused glance for Malaroth that continued back to Agnieszka.

But then there is a deep breath taken, a hand that closes more firmly about her knife. And she nods.

"Let us dance, then."

[Jirai]

There is a window that has been missed. As Ariane directs her words to Tebrin, the dark elf had turned slightly. The bloodied book was tucked firmly, possessively under an arm. The knife tapped absently against her thigh as her gaze darted from one person to the next. Even numbers. The way Malaroth and the strange girl clung to each other, one might assume that their fates were likewise bound. The same might be thought of the two girls dancing. Which would make the mapmaker Ariane's partner, right?

Oh, but that assumes that the dark elf has any grasp on logic at this point.

There are three people she does not know. There are three people she does. Out of those three, only one has been a recent annoyance to her. Tebrin, Ariane - watch, as her gaze fixes on one young man in particular. See how her grip on that dagger shifts, arm raising.

If nothing stopped her, the knife would be flying straight at the mapmaker.

[Tebrin]

Tebrin was an observant man, and Jirai had the treasure hunter's attention ever since they had woken up in this accursed place together. The flicker of movement from the ebon-skinned woman, and the glint of steel, halted Tebrin's peaceful conversation with Ariane... the terms of which he had been more than happy to agree to. Spinning to his partner in a surprisingly quick twitch of muscles, closed left fist hurtles through the small space separating them, seeking the back of Jirai's jawbone from his position slightly behind her.

Whether the bone dislocated, shattered, or the drow simply ended up stunned and bruised, his momentum spun him around to the side, a rather humorous bout of clumsiness on his part - or so it would seem, until the dagger clutched in his right hand spun around to bear upon the woman's left side, where it plunged towards her ribs, sought to bury itself with remarkable accuracy betwixt the strips of bone and find her blackened heart. Did Drow have hearts? Oh, he hoped he was going to lose -this- bet.

[Glenn]

Menacing blade, Ariane? Malaroth did look somewhat menacing with that dagger, yes. Glenn, however, had a quite large and formidable falchion. Nothing gave one confidence quite like cold steel.

Still, his words should have been far more tempered. There had been so many better ways to talk to Malaroth, so many more friendly ones, kinder ones, effective ones. No, Glenn would make a wretched knight. It was a damn good thing that being a knight wouldn't avail them at all right now. He had just seen two of the most important people in the world to him die in the most horrific fashion imaginable. He was desperately clinging to anything that might save them. He was not at his best... which is not to say he wouldn't have made some of the same mistakes at his best, just, perhaps, not all of them at once.

His words for Malaroth were quick. "We head in that direction." He nodded his head slightly. "Come with us, work with us, and I'll tell you all that we know. We have a common enemy here, I assure you. Otherwise, you're welcome to head off in the other direction and try your luck alone." There was no time for this, and he would not waste any. Instead he began to walk backwards towards Rhaena and Agnie. He said what he would.

As he was walking, he saw the motion out of the corner of his eye. He did not see any glint of metal, but he did see that arm rising in his direction. He did see Tebrin's halting blow and then he saw the strike that followed.

Oh hell, Tebrin. What did you, you of all people, just do to yourself? Glenn stood there, still closer to Malaroth than anyone else, gaping at what was unfolding.

[Carnath-Emory]

Words: pointless, despised words. Only Glenn Burnie would have directed her to employ them here. Only Glenn Burnie would have wasted her on diplomacy. Words, which are opportunity enough for Jirai to make her choice between several appealing targets; the drow's arm begins to rise --

And then several things happen almost simultaneously.

"Drop!," the swordswoman yells to those far distant, without turning at all, because --

Out shoots her hand for Jirai's elbow, and she is very fast, but perhaps not fast enough --

Tebrin is a living assault, a fury of sudden motion --

And like a true fatalist she is already assuming that the knife will strike true. Like a true daughter of her people, she's reckoned one of those trio is lost beyond her capacity to save, but that still leaves two. Rhaena amongst them, perhaps, Rhaena to whom she'd spoken a very solemn promise, and all of this is immediately intolerable.

A second crunch of sound plays counterpoint to Tebrin's attack. Like shattered bone, like the grind of coarse iron against bone, like the flaying of a thing. Gouting quicksilver has lurched from the woman's inner wrist in a sudden clotted flood, and she's delved her hand into it, has stretched fingers, has seized --

And what that hand withdraws is steel given shape, and a purpose for which it was never designed. It is a weapon that she is dragging from within the flesh and meat of her very own forearm, a weapon keen at the one edge and cruelly serrated at the other, running thick with quicksilver and her own dark blood. With some shattering sound, with some hoarse and defiant cry -- and then she is turning, to stride for Rhaena Olwak with no hesitation at all.

Her smile is bright and furious.

[Raveness]

Wrinkling her forehead in confusion, Lavender glanced between the two men before her. Friends or foes? She was uncertain. Malaroth's glare would seem to make them foes, however hadn't he been looking at her the same way? Glenn spoke as if they were friends. Much was the way things were here in this befuddled nightmare.

As the knight turned to murmur to her, his words soft and kind?.. she realized they had to stay together. It might be the only way out of this place. The coldness that left his eyes when they sought her own, almost frightened her, and yet.. there was something that replaced it. Something that Lavender needed at that very moment. Perhaps it was hope, or trust, or something else.

Without his shirt, she feared he would be an easier target to whatever creatures they were up against. It just would not do. She swallowed back the bile that tickled her throat and shook her head from side to side when he spoke of giving it to her. This burden was not his to bear. They were not his wings and he would not have to die for them. Not if she had a say in it anyways.

The grieved sigh that escaped Malaroth's lips caused her to glance upward at him. His hand extended toward her and just as she moved to wrap her smaller fingers around his own, she heard the shout from someone, some where. This time, what little of her mind she had left, suddenly became clear, sharper.

With all of the woman's effort she would try to pull Malaroth downward. First with her hand that already clasped his, until the other dropped the dagger down beside her and reached up to join its partner. Lavender would then begin to fall backwards next to the great skeleton tree, intending to use her weight to make him follow in the hopes of saving the knight's life, for she did not know whom the shout was for and was not about to take any chances. Not now, after they had come so far together.

[channe]

There are only a few things a girl can do, when she's purposefully put such distance between herself, the vulnerable Rhaena, and danger: one of them is to realize that Glenn is still out there, that Glenn is inextricably bound, that --

-- "Glenn! Down!" she hollers, because she has a view of the entire thing; of Jirai's knife, which she cannot stop, of -- oh, Tebrin.

Holy God, Tebrin.

She hadn't even noticed you were here, so closely focused was she on the presence of Jirai -- and now you do this. Ariane approaches, and quickly -- "Rhaena. Stay with Ariane, she'll keep you safe. I got to go to Glenn." And she rushes forward, knife at the ready, hoping against hope that Glenn didn't have a gaping wound on the side she didn't see, that Tebrin might live, that Jirai might die --

-- and don't think for a moment that she doesn't plan on finishing the job should you fail.

[Jirai]

"Glenn!"

This all happens so fast. Tebrin attacks Jirai - and where has the knife gone?! - Ariane approaches as Agnieszka leaves, bids her to stay, and that is utterly unacceptable, because it is Glenn over there.

"No!" The girl snaps at her friend. Ariane could follow, surely, but the girl was doing what she had wanted to do all along, rushing towards the mapmaker just behind Agnieszka.

[Jirai]

The book had vanished.

Part of her noticed this, and part of her raged at whatever deception had allowed the small volume to disappear into thin air.

And part of her noticed movement behind her, but it was not until a fist slammed into her jaw, throwing the dagger far off course, throwing herself backwards unsteadily that the rest of her noticed Tebrin's uncharacteristic intervention. Ariane's brief assault is unnoticed - her black scowl and wordless snarl is for Tebrin alone.

She sends a fist for his face in turn, lacking any sort of blade at the moment. Tebrin, however, is not lacking in that area, as the sudden blast of pain from her side indicates. Eyes widen in shock, the slender woman wavering on her feet as lifeblood dripped down her side.

The words she growled as she fell to her knees were in a strange tongue, unintelligible. They were followed by a disturbing, hissing laughter.

And then the laughter stopped.