Navyri
✬✬✬[/center]
Some are born to sweet delight...
36 of Vhalar, 717
“Twelve trials…”
The sound of boots crushing leaves and the sound of a twig snapping under her step stirred a whimper from the man who had begun to stir, “I’ll admit, I’m not the best tracker in Idalos,” Navyri’s breath brushed over the man’s ear, lifting the back of her finger to caress his cheek, her sharpened nail resting just below his eyes, “But twelve trials after killing that merchant, well…”
“I must be losing my touch.” The Naerikk pulled her hand back, running her fingers up the back of his skull, entangling them in russet curls and pulling his head back. Forced to look up, had he not been blindfolded he would see her under the moonlight streaming through the treetops, her delicate jawline and blue eyes peering down at him, “Sisk, wasn’t it? Or do you prefer Quintus?”
Navyri waited patiently, imagining the flitting surprise that passed over his face. Oh, she knew all about him, alright. Quintus Mallor, early thirties, brown hair, hazel eyes. Known for his interest in procuring rare and unusual items such as herself, had Navyri been someone else, it would have struck her as out of character for the man to be so interested in a simple bird figurine. But Navyri wasn’t someone else, and she knew who that figurine rightfully belonged to. After all, Delroth had tasked her to retrieve it. Only, when she turned his place upside down, it had been missing. Now they were here, to Plan B. Punishment.
“You’ve caused a lot of trouble for me, Sisk,” The Naer wagged her finger in disapproval, sucking in a deep breath of the wild air, and moved past her prisoner. Sisk was bound and gagged, sitting at the base of a tree with his hands in front of him, dark rope digging into his wrists, “But don’t worry. That seems to be a theme of things lately - I’ll have to tell you about it sometime,” she looked up from the items she had gone to retrieve, casually moving to crouch in front of him, setting out her goodies, “Luckily for me, I’m rather versatile, which is why,” she grinned, dropping a hard bound book before them, followed by a pouch of dried powder, a needle and a spool of black thread, “I’ve had such a difficult time coming up with your punishment. Your human body invites such interesting games.”
She watched him then, poised like a cat ready to pounce, her long wings draped behind her like a wedding train, lifted just enough as to not touch the soil, “Now, before we begin, why don’t you tell me where the Raven is?”
Navyri cocked her head, not realizing how much the mannerism reflecting Delroth in that moment, her eyes not unlike a predator, hand reaching up to tug away the gag that had kept him quiet. Immediately, he took a deep breath, mouth opening to unleash a mighty roar when Navyri shot out, snatching his tongue between her thumb and forefinger, “I would severely advise against that,” she warned, eyes ablaze with distaste, digging her thumb nail into the tender flesh of his tongue, pressing it down as he made a wail of fear, “Don’t. Make. Me. Mad.”
She continued to bury her sharp claw into his tongue, the pointed tip cutting the center as red blood began to pool. Just when she was about to puncture straight through, she released him, scoffing in disgust at her own hand, wiping the red saliva on his shirt. Her voice was unforgiving and direct, “I’m waiting.”
It took some time before Sisk decided to talk, gaping and trying not to groan and upset his captor further. Finally, with a thick, painful accent, said words that Navyri did not want to hear. I don’t know. She growled, having half a mind to rip his tongue out this time when he continued, wailing about how he must have been robbed. One day it was just there and then… it wasn’t. Each word flopped from his new injury and sounded fat in his mouth.
She frowned, worried now about having to start her search all over again and looked to the foliage around her, hearing as crickets and nocturnal birds chirped, “Interesting.” Navyri focused on her emotions, calming them before returning the gag back in its place, much to the chagrin of her captive.
She weighed the pros and cons of the admittance. He could be lying, but how would that benefit him? This far into the wilderness, it was unlikely anyone would hear him if he screamed - no, it made more sense to believe he was going to die. Cooperation would ensure the best chance of survival… No one would benefit from lies, nor should a statue that had belonged to a Immortal matter so much to an Etzori…
“Fine,” Navyri snapped, returning her attention to her bag. She produced a pair of gloves, setting them on her lap and began to thread the needle. It took some time, but the Naer was in no rush. The wait made her victim shake with fear, unsure where she was or what she would do next. Navyri knew, perhaps better than most, how frustrating not being able to see was. And in a situation so dire… it meant everything. “You see, Sisk… I wanted that figurine. Giving it to me would have made me happy. But now…” Navyri delicately set the thread and needle aside, tugging on her gloves and retrieved the pouch. It was a drawstring bag, small and velvet. Undoing its tie, it unfolded in her hand, shimmery grey powder with specks of green sat in her hand. It wasn’t much - a rather small dose - which she poured into her covered hand, careful to keep it away from her own face and skin, “Now, I’m annoyed.”
Navyri used her free hand to pinch the man’s nose closed, watching as he tried to twist away to no avail, and just when his lungs were about to burst, she shifted the mouth gag and blew on the powder, sending it flying down his throat and on his injured tongue. He choked, Navyri’s hand covering his mouth to keep him from blowing back any loose particles, and slipped the gag back. She stood quickly then, moving a few feet away and peeled off the gloves, tucking them safely in her pocket.
“You’re probably wondering what delicious treat I’ve bestowed upon you, aren’t you, Sisk?” Navyri smiled cheerily, lowering herself to the ground and crawling towards him, “Well, I’m glad you asked. You see…” her voice lowered dangerously, sweet satisfaction dripping from her words, “Any bit now and you should be feeling a little… Fatigued. Or…” Her voice, cheery in its disposition faded as she snatched up her book, flipping idly between the pages and stopping suddenly to read, “Here were are. Stone Fairy has curious properties, capable of ruining the body and maintaining the mind. A paralytic, it shuts down bodily functions, amplifying pain but leaving the victim unable to move and stop it. Primarily used in interrogations, it is relatively common poison, often forgotten in its brilliance...”
The book was snapped closed suddenly, the Naer analyzing how he tried to fight it; his face and neck going slack first, followed by his chest which seemed to slump against the tree. She paced, eager to get started and crossed her arms suddenly curious, “Do you know what you’ve done? Why I have gathered you here today?”
He did not answer, Navyri almost taking offense when she realized why and laughed at her forgetfulness. His throat would be paralyzed as well, but she noticed a twitching of his finger and lowered herself, crawling towards him, “Hmm,” Poisons were fascinating. How one body could be affected so. Navyri threw the book to the side and pulled herself upon him, straddling the man and taking the threaded needle as she pressed her forehead to his, “You Etzori are a stubborn bunch. You disrespect beings you’ve never seen and think your city will save you. Where’s your Black Guard now?”
“The figurine I wanted… It wasn’t mine, but it most certainly wasn’t yours.” her voice was a gentle whisper, her breath caressing the man’s ear, as she took his hands in hers and pressed the palms together and kissed his fingertips, “Delroth sends his regards.” The tip of the needle had been poised beside the fleshy connection between his fingers was suddenly pushed forward, the tiny metal resisting and then sinking into the tender skin. Navyri had partially expected some sort of bucking and she felt the man’s legs shake, but the most noticeable reaction was in his gasping breaths and pale complexion. Good. He could feel it.
She pulled, dragging out the motion as the thread glistened in the coated blood and she continue the motion, moving along the fingers; making sure to scrape the bone each time she started a new stitch. How much time passed, she was unsure. Her attention was focused on her project, a simple song being hummed as she worked. As she was rounding the ring finger, Sisk had gotten quiet, his breathing weak. Would he pass out?
“This should keep you from touching things that don’t belong to you.”
She frowned and tugged lightly at the hands, making sure they couldn’t come apart so easily, and got a new idea. She leaned back and brought his hands upward, seeing how much like praying hands they portrayed and thought it ironically fitting for an Etzori. Pressing her handiwork to Sisk’s mouth, she began to stitch the fingers to area around his mouth, long thread hoisted between the fatty parts of his cheeks and stretching the skin. He began to whimper again, pain renewed as his muscles began to shake helplessly. When she leaned back, it looked quite devout, and she smiled with at her handiwork, and tied off the stitch and snapped the thread with a cruel tug. The needle was shoved through the center of his lips, and she pushed away from him, arms now coated in trails of blood.
“See what you’ve made me do? If I were you, I’d start to pray for forgiveness.” her legs ached from being sat on so long and she stretched, “Maybe the birds will hear you. Or maybe they will eat you alive.”
“Twelve trials…”
The sound of boots crushing leaves and the sound of a twig snapping under her step stirred a whimper from the man who had begun to stir, “I’ll admit, I’m not the best tracker in Idalos,” Navyri’s breath brushed over the man’s ear, lifting the back of her finger to caress his cheek, her sharpened nail resting just below his eyes, “But twelve trials after killing that merchant, well…”
“I must be losing my touch.” The Naerikk pulled her hand back, running her fingers up the back of his skull, entangling them in russet curls and pulling his head back. Forced to look up, had he not been blindfolded he would see her under the moonlight streaming through the treetops, her delicate jawline and blue eyes peering down at him, “Sisk, wasn’t it? Or do you prefer Quintus?”
Navyri waited patiently, imagining the flitting surprise that passed over his face. Oh, she knew all about him, alright. Quintus Mallor, early thirties, brown hair, hazel eyes. Known for his interest in procuring rare and unusual items such as herself, had Navyri been someone else, it would have struck her as out of character for the man to be so interested in a simple bird figurine. But Navyri wasn’t someone else, and she knew who that figurine rightfully belonged to. After all, Delroth had tasked her to retrieve it. Only, when she turned his place upside down, it had been missing. Now they were here, to Plan B. Punishment.
“You’ve caused a lot of trouble for me, Sisk,” The Naer wagged her finger in disapproval, sucking in a deep breath of the wild air, and moved past her prisoner. Sisk was bound and gagged, sitting at the base of a tree with his hands in front of him, dark rope digging into his wrists, “But don’t worry. That seems to be a theme of things lately - I’ll have to tell you about it sometime,” she looked up from the items she had gone to retrieve, casually moving to crouch in front of him, setting out her goodies, “Luckily for me, I’m rather versatile, which is why,” she grinned, dropping a hard bound book before them, followed by a pouch of dried powder, a needle and a spool of black thread, “I’ve had such a difficult time coming up with your punishment. Your human body invites such interesting games.”
She watched him then, poised like a cat ready to pounce, her long wings draped behind her like a wedding train, lifted just enough as to not touch the soil, “Now, before we begin, why don’t you tell me where the Raven is?”
Navyri cocked her head, not realizing how much the mannerism reflecting Delroth in that moment, her eyes not unlike a predator, hand reaching up to tug away the gag that had kept him quiet. Immediately, he took a deep breath, mouth opening to unleash a mighty roar when Navyri shot out, snatching his tongue between her thumb and forefinger, “I would severely advise against that,” she warned, eyes ablaze with distaste, digging her thumb nail into the tender flesh of his tongue, pressing it down as he made a wail of fear, “Don’t. Make. Me. Mad.”
She continued to bury her sharp claw into his tongue, the pointed tip cutting the center as red blood began to pool. Just when she was about to puncture straight through, she released him, scoffing in disgust at her own hand, wiping the red saliva on his shirt. Her voice was unforgiving and direct, “I’m waiting.”
It took some time before Sisk decided to talk, gaping and trying not to groan and upset his captor further. Finally, with a thick, painful accent, said words that Navyri did not want to hear. I don’t know. She growled, having half a mind to rip his tongue out this time when he continued, wailing about how he must have been robbed. One day it was just there and then… it wasn’t. Each word flopped from his new injury and sounded fat in his mouth.
She frowned, worried now about having to start her search all over again and looked to the foliage around her, hearing as crickets and nocturnal birds chirped, “Interesting.” Navyri focused on her emotions, calming them before returning the gag back in its place, much to the chagrin of her captive.
She weighed the pros and cons of the admittance. He could be lying, but how would that benefit him? This far into the wilderness, it was unlikely anyone would hear him if he screamed - no, it made more sense to believe he was going to die. Cooperation would ensure the best chance of survival… No one would benefit from lies, nor should a statue that had belonged to a Immortal matter so much to an Etzori…
“Fine,” Navyri snapped, returning her attention to her bag. She produced a pair of gloves, setting them on her lap and began to thread the needle. It took some time, but the Naer was in no rush. The wait made her victim shake with fear, unsure where she was or what she would do next. Navyri knew, perhaps better than most, how frustrating not being able to see was. And in a situation so dire… it meant everything. “You see, Sisk… I wanted that figurine. Giving it to me would have made me happy. But now…” Navyri delicately set the thread and needle aside, tugging on her gloves and retrieved the pouch. It was a drawstring bag, small and velvet. Undoing its tie, it unfolded in her hand, shimmery grey powder with specks of green sat in her hand. It wasn’t much - a rather small dose - which she poured into her covered hand, careful to keep it away from her own face and skin, “Now, I’m annoyed.”
Navyri used her free hand to pinch the man’s nose closed, watching as he tried to twist away to no avail, and just when his lungs were about to burst, she shifted the mouth gag and blew on the powder, sending it flying down his throat and on his injured tongue. He choked, Navyri’s hand covering his mouth to keep him from blowing back any loose particles, and slipped the gag back. She stood quickly then, moving a few feet away and peeled off the gloves, tucking them safely in her pocket.
“You’re probably wondering what delicious treat I’ve bestowed upon you, aren’t you, Sisk?” Navyri smiled cheerily, lowering herself to the ground and crawling towards him, “Well, I’m glad you asked. You see…” her voice lowered dangerously, sweet satisfaction dripping from her words, “Any bit now and you should be feeling a little… Fatigued. Or…” Her voice, cheery in its disposition faded as she snatched up her book, flipping idly between the pages and stopping suddenly to read, “Here were are. Stone Fairy has curious properties, capable of ruining the body and maintaining the mind. A paralytic, it shuts down bodily functions, amplifying pain but leaving the victim unable to move and stop it. Primarily used in interrogations, it is relatively common poison, often forgotten in its brilliance...”
The book was snapped closed suddenly, the Naer analyzing how he tried to fight it; his face and neck going slack first, followed by his chest which seemed to slump against the tree. She paced, eager to get started and crossed her arms suddenly curious, “Do you know what you’ve done? Why I have gathered you here today?”
He did not answer, Navyri almost taking offense when she realized why and laughed at her forgetfulness. His throat would be paralyzed as well, but she noticed a twitching of his finger and lowered herself, crawling towards him, “Hmm,” Poisons were fascinating. How one body could be affected so. Navyri threw the book to the side and pulled herself upon him, straddling the man and taking the threaded needle as she pressed her forehead to his, “You Etzori are a stubborn bunch. You disrespect beings you’ve never seen and think your city will save you. Where’s your Black Guard now?”
“The figurine I wanted… It wasn’t mine, but it most certainly wasn’t yours.” her voice was a gentle whisper, her breath caressing the man’s ear, as she took his hands in hers and pressed the palms together and kissed his fingertips, “Delroth sends his regards.” The tip of the needle had been poised beside the fleshy connection between his fingers was suddenly pushed forward, the tiny metal resisting and then sinking into the tender skin. Navyri had partially expected some sort of bucking and she felt the man’s legs shake, but the most noticeable reaction was in his gasping breaths and pale complexion. Good. He could feel it.
She pulled, dragging out the motion as the thread glistened in the coated blood and she continue the motion, moving along the fingers; making sure to scrape the bone each time she started a new stitch. How much time passed, she was unsure. Her attention was focused on her project, a simple song being hummed as she worked. As she was rounding the ring finger, Sisk had gotten quiet, his breathing weak. Would he pass out?
“This should keep you from touching things that don’t belong to you.”
She frowned and tugged lightly at the hands, making sure they couldn’t come apart so easily, and got a new idea. She leaned back and brought his hands upward, seeing how much like praying hands they portrayed and thought it ironically fitting for an Etzori. Pressing her handiwork to Sisk’s mouth, she began to stitch the fingers to area around his mouth, long thread hoisted between the fatty parts of his cheeks and stretching the skin. He began to whimper again, pain renewed as his muscles began to shake helplessly. When she leaned back, it looked quite devout, and she smiled with at her handiwork, and tied off the stitch and snapped the thread with a cruel tug. The needle was shoved through the center of his lips, and she pushed away from him, arms now coated in trails of blood.
“See what you’ve made me do? If I were you, I’d start to pray for forgiveness.” her legs ached from being sat on so long and she stretched, “Maybe the birds will hear you. Or maybe they will eat you alive.”
...Some are born toendless night.
✬✬✬
