Follow Me Into The Endless Night
Aug 12, 2023 18:44:39 GMT
Riah, Velania Kalugina, and 1 more like this
Post by Zola Rhomdaen on Aug 12, 2023 18:44:39 GMT
(In between the events of Fortune’s Favour and Glory and Gore.)
Lady Oziah Daybreaker’s new castle — at this point, six formidable walls of obsidian without a keep — sits like a crown atop a low hill northwest of Daring Heights. Standing outside the walls and gazing to the west, Zola sees the yellow expanse of the Scorched Badlands and the dark red mass that is the sprawling metropolis of Kundar on the distant, sun-gold horizon. It’s a starkly different vista from the clouded sky and moody winds here where she is.
And in the corner of her eye, two figures stand at the foot of the hill, staring up at her. Lord Jaezred and Lady Imryll, arm in arm. Imryll gives a cheery wave, but there is no such warmth from Jaezred. As they climb up the hill towards Zola, she sees the terse line his mouth has formed on his face.
“Hello, Zola. So good to see you out and about again, darling,” chirps Imryll, as if oblivious to Jaezred’s current surliness. They all know she’s not.
Zola’s good eye remains trained on him. Inwardly, she braces herself for what he has to say.
Jaezred lets go of Imryll and rests his hands on his cane. “A preemptive strike on the Wild Hunt, eh? And you think this is…wise?”
Zola looks away. “I…I’m not going to wait for them to hurt someone first. I’m sorry if your lordship disapproves.”
“Really? And what do you think they’re going to do once they find out that you’re a citizen of the Witching Court, hmm? Shall we all bear the brunt of the consequences of your actions, Miss Oussviir?”
“No! I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she says, turning back to him, mustering some force into her voice.
“How? Could you possibly be so deluded as to think that you could subjugate the Wild Hunt with a single strike?”
“What do you want from me? Just sit around and wait for them to begin their hunt? You know they’re going to hurt people again, it’s just a question of when.” She clenches her jaw tightly. “I’ll be giving them an answer. The answer is never.”
“Ugh.” Jaezred pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Look. If you’re really so restless and need to go on a crusade, Glastor is still in the Court of Sorcery. In fact, he’s even killed visitors from the Witching Court. Why don’t you go and attack him?”
“I will. He’s on my list, too.”
“What, you have a list now? Listen to yourself. This is bloody ridiculous,” he says as his voice drops to a baleful growl. “The Wild Hunt hasn’t done anything wrong since they returned!”
“They killed Jasper!”
“He was a traitor to their cause! I’m not saying he deserved it, but no one will justify—”
“I don’t care.”
“Oh, really? Look me in the eye and tell me this is about Jasper.”
Zola stands rooted to the spot, every muscle in her body locked up as fresh tears well up in her eye. Her throat has gone dry as the desert in the west. There is no will within her to lift her gaze up at him and open her mouth to say the words.
“What is this really about, Zola?”
The gales whip and howl stronger than before, filling the gaping silence between them.
A long moment passes before Imryll steps in next to Jaezred and gently squeezes his bicep. “Come, my love,” she says softly, “let’s not keep Oziah and Delilah waiting. You know I’ve been positively dying to see them again.”
Jaezred allows himself to be pulled away whilst his red-hot gaze clings to Zola. The look on his face has settled into something more solemn than anger, yet his voice remains hard and stern as he speaks his parting words.
“You’re going somewhere no one else can follow you to. I hope you know that.”
Imryll gives Zola a nod. “Be well, Zola,” she says sincerely.
The couple turns away from her and starts walking towards the dirt path leading into the castle gates. She hears Imryll’s voice, fading as it is carried on the wind: “As I said, dear, you can’t always stop a storm from coming in. Sometimes you just have to watch it make a mess and note what needs picking up afterwards…”
Tears have begun streaking down her cheek again. It’s been happening every day for the past month now, and so many times in the past year — she has grown numb to it. There is a yawning void within her where her heart once was, and the only thing in that void is her inner song: a lonely, ringing silence.
With help from Anthony
Lady Oziah Daybreaker’s new castle — at this point, six formidable walls of obsidian without a keep — sits like a crown atop a low hill northwest of Daring Heights. Standing outside the walls and gazing to the west, Zola sees the yellow expanse of the Scorched Badlands and the dark red mass that is the sprawling metropolis of Kundar on the distant, sun-gold horizon. It’s a starkly different vista from the clouded sky and moody winds here where she is.
And in the corner of her eye, two figures stand at the foot of the hill, staring up at her. Lord Jaezred and Lady Imryll, arm in arm. Imryll gives a cheery wave, but there is no such warmth from Jaezred. As they climb up the hill towards Zola, she sees the terse line his mouth has formed on his face.
“Hello, Zola. So good to see you out and about again, darling,” chirps Imryll, as if oblivious to Jaezred’s current surliness. They all know she’s not.
Zola’s good eye remains trained on him. Inwardly, she braces herself for what he has to say.
Jaezred lets go of Imryll and rests his hands on his cane. “A preemptive strike on the Wild Hunt, eh? And you think this is…wise?”
Zola looks away. “I…I’m not going to wait for them to hurt someone first. I’m sorry if your lordship disapproves.”
“Really? And what do you think they’re going to do once they find out that you’re a citizen of the Witching Court, hmm? Shall we all bear the brunt of the consequences of your actions, Miss Oussviir?”
“No! I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she says, turning back to him, mustering some force into her voice.
“How? Could you possibly be so deluded as to think that you could subjugate the Wild Hunt with a single strike?”
“What do you want from me? Just sit around and wait for them to begin their hunt? You know they’re going to hurt people again, it’s just a question of when.” She clenches her jaw tightly. “I’ll be giving them an answer. The answer is never.”
“Ugh.” Jaezred pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Look. If you’re really so restless and need to go on a crusade, Glastor is still in the Court of Sorcery. In fact, he’s even killed visitors from the Witching Court. Why don’t you go and attack him?”
“I will. He’s on my list, too.”
“What, you have a list now? Listen to yourself. This is bloody ridiculous,” he says as his voice drops to a baleful growl. “The Wild Hunt hasn’t done anything wrong since they returned!”
“They killed Jasper!”
“He was a traitor to their cause! I’m not saying he deserved it, but no one will justify—”
“I don’t care.”
“Oh, really? Look me in the eye and tell me this is about Jasper.”
Zola stands rooted to the spot, every muscle in her body locked up as fresh tears well up in her eye. Her throat has gone dry as the desert in the west. There is no will within her to lift her gaze up at him and open her mouth to say the words.
“What is this really about, Zola?”
The gales whip and howl stronger than before, filling the gaping silence between them.
A long moment passes before Imryll steps in next to Jaezred and gently squeezes his bicep. “Come, my love,” she says softly, “let’s not keep Oziah and Delilah waiting. You know I’ve been positively dying to see them again.”
Jaezred allows himself to be pulled away whilst his red-hot gaze clings to Zola. The look on his face has settled into something more solemn than anger, yet his voice remains hard and stern as he speaks his parting words.
“You’re going somewhere no one else can follow you to. I hope you know that.”
Imryll gives Zola a nod. “Be well, Zola,” she says sincerely.
The couple turns away from her and starts walking towards the dirt path leading into the castle gates. She hears Imryll’s voice, fading as it is carried on the wind: “As I said, dear, you can’t always stop a storm from coming in. Sometimes you just have to watch it make a mess and note what needs picking up afterwards…”
Tears have begun streaking down her cheek again. It’s been happening every day for the past month now, and so many times in the past year — she has grown numb to it. There is a yawning void within her where her heart once was, and the only thing in that void is her inner song: a lonely, ringing silence.
With help from Anthony