All Time/No Time
The Gaol
Emea
It all started in that house. The Sigil, glowing red, broke and released it, the Man in Red. During its ascent from the pit it had sealed itself in, Garizma's eyes had been filled with awe and adoration. Belaera had sustained him in the Miasma, had given him the strength to lead another to free her. Garizma could not, himself. Such was his terror that he often wept openly in the Man in Red's presence, though he felt no shame from Belaera. Instead, he felt its acceptance, as if the entity understood him better than even he understood himself. It was an acceptance that the Avriel craved, and he offered himself to the entity.
And then she came. Garizma led her to the Man in Red, but suspected none of the treachery that would ensue. When the thought crossed his mind, he banished it, trusting in the Man in Red. Such was his most egregious mistake. He watched as Navyri released Belaera, triumph filling his chest with fire and pride. But it was not to be a moment of triumph. It was a moment of betrayal, of deceit, of mutilation. The Naerikk's face was forever burned into the Avriel's memory as she assumed Arithzma's Wings, wings that the disgusting shadow creature had no right to. Bile had risen in his throat, venom boiling the lifeblood in his veins. He wanted to lash out... But he could not. It was not his time.
And so they'd been delivered from the bog. The Shadow had gone its own way, and Garizma was left to travel the world alone, wingless and mutilated. At first, he'd wept for himself, lamenting his station in life. The grief turned quickly to barbed anger, and the anger mutated itself into an unadulterated desire for vengeance. He swore to himself that he'd force the Shadow to rip her own wings off, completing the cycle as it should be. But first, he needed to ready himself. He would not underestimate the shadow again... Not this time. This time, he would hurt the Shadow, not lead her to her salvation.
The Gaol simply was. That was the only thing that was known about the space. It was a massive gray structure, seemingly made from smooth gray stone that insulated the cold better than any abode on Idalos. There was no furniture, nothing to make the place seem inhabited. Instead, the cold gray was broken only by a dusty shaft of light down the center of the space, coming from a high-set window that showed surly gray clouds outside. Standing in the middle of the room, robed in a dual-robe of red on one side and blue on the other stood Belaera, nearly as tall as the room itself.
It swept its arms wide, and from the nothingness sprung two tables, identical to one another. She placed them back to back, and put a chair on either side, so as to face each other. The table, made of a gray metal, seemed to melt into the stone of the floor as if it belonged there the whole time. Another sweep, and two pewter goblets appeared. The final sweep, and two bodies appeared on either side of the table. A smile creased the red mask of the Man in Red, reverting nearly immediately back to nothingness. Stepping back, the Man in Red became the Entity of Gray, melding into the surroundings to as to appear invisible. A faint shimmer showed between the tiny crack in the tables, but nothing else moved...
Until Garizma did. The Avriel stirred, mewling in both pain and determination. Underneath him, a small pool of quickly congealing blood was beginning to form, directly underneath his left hand. Or, rather, where the hand used to be. He cradled the severed limb to his chest, applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. When he realized he was not where he had just been, he turned, eyes wide and rabid. Setting eyes on Navyri, he rose quickly to his feet, seemingly forgetting about the mangled arm. He stared at the Naerikk as she began to stir.
Around them, deafeningly loud, the Man in Red's androgynous voice filled the cavernous space. Navyri was pulled very quickly from her reverie, forced to place her hands over her ears.
"Sit." The command came, with no other offer. Garizma, reluctantly, sat in the chair. He never once took his eyes off Navyri, and the look reminded her of a predator about to eviscerate its prey. It set her nerves on edge.
The Gaol
Emea
It all started in that house. The Sigil, glowing red, broke and released it, the Man in Red. During its ascent from the pit it had sealed itself in, Garizma's eyes had been filled with awe and adoration. Belaera had sustained him in the Miasma, had given him the strength to lead another to free her. Garizma could not, himself. Such was his terror that he often wept openly in the Man in Red's presence, though he felt no shame from Belaera. Instead, he felt its acceptance, as if the entity understood him better than even he understood himself. It was an acceptance that the Avriel craved, and he offered himself to the entity.
And then she came. Garizma led her to the Man in Red, but suspected none of the treachery that would ensue. When the thought crossed his mind, he banished it, trusting in the Man in Red. Such was his most egregious mistake. He watched as Navyri released Belaera, triumph filling his chest with fire and pride. But it was not to be a moment of triumph. It was a moment of betrayal, of deceit, of mutilation. The Naerikk's face was forever burned into the Avriel's memory as she assumed Arithzma's Wings, wings that the disgusting shadow creature had no right to. Bile had risen in his throat, venom boiling the lifeblood in his veins. He wanted to lash out... But he could not. It was not his time.
And so they'd been delivered from the bog. The Shadow had gone its own way, and Garizma was left to travel the world alone, wingless and mutilated. At first, he'd wept for himself, lamenting his station in life. The grief turned quickly to barbed anger, and the anger mutated itself into an unadulterated desire for vengeance. He swore to himself that he'd force the Shadow to rip her own wings off, completing the cycle as it should be. But first, he needed to ready himself. He would not underestimate the shadow again... Not this time. This time, he would hurt the Shadow, not lead her to her salvation.
The Gaol simply was. That was the only thing that was known about the space. It was a massive gray structure, seemingly made from smooth gray stone that insulated the cold better than any abode on Idalos. There was no furniture, nothing to make the place seem inhabited. Instead, the cold gray was broken only by a dusty shaft of light down the center of the space, coming from a high-set window that showed surly gray clouds outside. Standing in the middle of the room, robed in a dual-robe of red on one side and blue on the other stood Belaera, nearly as tall as the room itself.
It swept its arms wide, and from the nothingness sprung two tables, identical to one another. She placed them back to back, and put a chair on either side, so as to face each other. The table, made of a gray metal, seemed to melt into the stone of the floor as if it belonged there the whole time. Another sweep, and two pewter goblets appeared. The final sweep, and two bodies appeared on either side of the table. A smile creased the red mask of the Man in Red, reverting nearly immediately back to nothingness. Stepping back, the Man in Red became the Entity of Gray, melding into the surroundings to as to appear invisible. A faint shimmer showed between the tiny crack in the tables, but nothing else moved...
Until Garizma did. The Avriel stirred, mewling in both pain and determination. Underneath him, a small pool of quickly congealing blood was beginning to form, directly underneath his left hand. Or, rather, where the hand used to be. He cradled the severed limb to his chest, applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. When he realized he was not where he had just been, he turned, eyes wide and rabid. Setting eyes on Navyri, he rose quickly to his feet, seemingly forgetting about the mangled arm. He stared at the Naerikk as she began to stir.
Around them, deafeningly loud, the Man in Red's androgynous voice filled the cavernous space. Navyri was pulled very quickly from her reverie, forced to place her hands over her ears.
"Sit." The command came, with no other offer. Garizma, reluctantly, sat in the chair. He never once took his eyes off Navyri, and the look reminded her of a predator about to eviscerate its prey. It set her nerves on edge.