[center][b]Transition - A Alicia Le'roux and Rayvon Krayvitch Collab[/b][/center]

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The events at the lakeside left Alicia with a bitter taste in her mouth. First the damnable archer belittled her efforts, then the queens felt her words were too harsh, and then: perhaps most biting of all, the damn assassin got all the accolades from the Renaltan royalty as well! It was enough to make a woman want to rip someone’s throat out.

Where was Jacque when she needed him?

The Liverian noble decided that the best course of action was simply to save face and leave. She offered a polite bow to both Queen Alex and Queen Kouri, as well as a curter one to the sneak who had, admittedly deservedly, stolen the spotlight from her: before departing the lake side with news of an upcoming ball cheering her up somewhat. She could perhaps prove her socialite pedigree there, and prove herself more than a spiteful oaf.

Away from the lake, she had her parasol aimed directly at the sun, shading herself from the oppressive light and away from anyone who might annoy her: it was a good enough system, until people decided to sneak up on you at least.

The last thing the paladin could possibly do, though, would be sneaking up on her as she approaches with chain and plate clinking together. She clears her throat to capture the attention of the vampire, whom she had followed back from the lakefront. Letting her Liverian commoner’s accent come through roughly, she calls out, “You’re from the noble courts back home, no?”

Alicia initially tried to ignore the clanking sound behind her, assuming that no one in that much metal would be after a social call with her. She was proven wrong when someone cleared their throat and, to her surprise: the familiar inflections of a Liverian accent caught her attention. She was positively beaming as she turned around, happy to grab a slice of home. To her surprise, she was met by the sight of a Paladin: armour seemingly catching the sun’s bright beams off of every facet of open plate. It forced Alicia to squint slightly, before she took a few steps towards the woman and raised the parasol over them both: blocking the sunlight somewhat. “Much better, my skin doesn’t fair well in the light you see: I don’t tan as well as I like.”

Offering a little curtsy, she took the time to examine the paladin: and found herself approving of the woman. “I am indeed of the noble courts: Alicia Le’roux, last of my line. It is a pleasure miss…?”

Even with the parasol blocking the light from above, the woman could be seen glowing with a faint light even still. “Rayvon Krayvitch. Of no noble line, I’m afraid. Though, my family has done service as Witch Hunters in the past.” She offers a smile before becoming apparently confused and looking up at the parasol above them. “Excuse me if I am wrong, but such a wonderful day, I would think one would delight in the rays from heaven above… Or are nobles far more delicate than I remember?” She chuckles more to herself at that, raising a questioning brow.

The fact that the woman glowed had Alicia close to snorting out in laughter: yet she maintained her composure, if only to attempt to prove to herself that social skills were still a skill she had. It was a pleasant light, one that reminded her of days in the sun: when she could afford herself such delights. “All of us have our delicate afflictions, Miss Krayvitch. I’m sure you are hiding a trick or two under those layers of steel: A naughty little secret that no one else should know.” She smirked at the woman, before lifting the parasol up higher, offering the Paladin the chance to freely move.

Rayvon gives her a quizzical look before stepping back and removing the hood of her cloak, letting herself bask in the sun with a pleasant smile. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve no secrets to hide. Deception is far from my strong suit.” She sniffs and removes her gloves, tucking them beneath her arm as she pushes her hair back from her face. “Of course, feel free to discover it, if you must. I would be happy to know any flaws I might possess. How else would I work upon them, hmm?”

“Spoken like a true Liverian. I’m sure the Witch hunters are lucky to have you, Lie-less Miss Krayvitch.” Alicia gave off a little chuckle, amused by the exchange more than anything. “I’d be delighted to be given time to learn any secrets you might hide: perhaps over tea, or a spar, perhaps?”

Intrigue passes over Rayvon at that. “You spar? I would not have taken the delicate noble for fighting.” She smirks and shrugs, “We shall see. But I feel I’ve little time for play today.” She pauses, as if in thought before speaking up again, “Have you heard the tales of Arian Lake?”

The idea of delaying the pleasantries for another time was fine for Alicia: after all, she had all the time in the world. “You don’t need biceps as large as your head to fight. All it takes is a bit of skill and a lot of poise...” She taps the edge of her rapier slightly, as if to accentuate the point, “...: although dodging helps.” She smirks and leans back under the shade of the parasol, before speaking up again “Still, you have me interested: what are these tales of Arian Lake?”

She pauses, readjusting her weight and crosses her arms as she starts, “Well, we all hear about the indescribable beauty and purity of the lake. And even the occasional tale of the health of the lake being tied with the royal family… But there is another tale yet.” She licks her lips, nervous, “You see, they say that the lake has healing properties. Capable of healing afflictions of those who drink of it… But even more, they say one pure and noble, who if set into the water upon their death… Will come back to life, their soul swimming from the depth of the lake to reach their bodies.” She shakes her head, “I fear, though, that testing it on the compatriot of mine who passed at the city proper is impossible. Too far gone, her body ruined… But you had companions who passed on at the tower, right? Or atleast, from what I heard of the conversation…” She coughs, shuffling on her feet and apparently nervous to bring up such events, especially after the berating she had caught the end of.

“I fear I know none of them well enough to call them pure or noble. One was a strange thing that charged in, blood hungry while the other was...well...a bug. It skittered more than your average Court-goer.” She wiggles the fingers of her hand like some insect, trying to make a joke at her own expense. She didn’t know what this one thought of the nobles, but Alicia was aware that enough of them were detestable rogues that a Witch hunter might dislike them.

After all, she would probably top the list of detestable rogues, in the eyes of the Witch hunters.

She hesitates, stifling a laugh at the joke before shaking her head, “Perhaps. Yet, I imagine it might be worth a shot, to see an ally returned to the Blades. We serve a noble cause and I imagine every blade counts.” She sizes Alicia up at this point, uncertain what to think of this strange noble. The light aversion was enough to make her curious and wary, but her company was pleasant enough. “If you would not mind, would you perhaps lead me to the fallen? Even if the lake does not work… I would see they have a proper burial.”

Alicia could do naught but admire the stubborn-ness of the woman: She was determined to see this through, it seems. “We thought at the east-most Watchtower. When we departed though, enemies still remained. They were an honourable sort, of course, but still: they might still remain.”

Rayvon raises her chin, a steely expression on her face, “If they are so honourable, then they will allow us to collect our dead without harm. I will not see our compatriots become carrion for the ravens that still circle in the skies.”

Alicia pauses, then lets her shoulders drop in an open show of relenting. “Fair enough. I doubt anything I can say will stop you, so I suppose we shall have to stick together, we Liverian nobles, be it of birth or of spirit.” Alicia offers the woman a wink, before turning towards the east and beginning a brisk walking pace. “Let us go: The dead won’t get any fresher.” Her parasol seemed to bob on her shoulder as she walked: blocking out the sun’s rays yet allowing her the swaying grace that comes with a practiced noble’s walk.

Still puzzled, Rayvon watches her start off, shaking her head with a faint smile before following after with a commanding air. On the way, she attempts to strike up conversation with the noble once more to pass the time. “I cannot say I am aware of your line. Would you be so kind as to give a brief history to a curious commoner?”

She nods at the attempt at small talk: happy to fill the silence before what would likely be very morbid work. “You would be forgiven for not knowing of my line, for as noble families go, the Le’roux are infants. In fact, we only rose to the station of nobility in my father’s generation. We make our money off of the back of the silk trade. I, that is the Le’roux family, for I am the only living member, own three Silk farms and trade with some very fine merchants, both in the city and with the foreigners who come to the docks.” She spouted off the facts about her lineage like she was advertising the fine pedigree of her dog: despite how casually she talked about being the only living family member alive.

She chuckles and comments, “Then perhaps you are responsible for some of the finest silks I have ever owned. Of course, they are still in my travel bag, they hardly suit for anything but a special occasion. I would hate to ruin such lovely craft in the battlefield.” She rests her hand on the pommel of her sword as the tower comes into sight, suddenly vigilant for any signs of danger. “I have my speculations of you suddenly, you know. I imagine it is hard to rise to nobility in so swift a time. More so to do so in what would liable be my parents’ time without my knowing… You shy from the sun, even the reflection of it off my armour…” She pauses, “You do not happen to be another vampire, perhaps? Not of Malaki’s brood, though… The silver eyes would tell, then…”

Alicia is a bit stricken by the prospect of having been so readily ousted. She had hoped to keep her secret a little longer, if only for the sake of civility. Still, her little conversation partner had seemingly armed herself with enough facts to near enough figure it out. Alicia turns her head and smiles. “...Then perhaps you are right, or perhaps not. Unlike you, deception is very much in my nature: and secrets are oh so more rewarding when you find them out yourself, no?”

She shrugs her shoulders, “If you are so concerned of others knowing, then your secret is safe with me.” She scans over the area, taking note of the fallen littering the field. Any hostiles they could have come across were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the orcish fighter Alicia would have known of was no longer present. “If it would perhaps make you feel more comfortable, I will admit, I am angel-kin. Of course, there are those who are quite… Edgy about my kind, holding old grievances from the time of the gods.”

Alicia tutts lightly. “If you go and share your secrets so, I’m obliged to share mine as well. Indeed, I am a vampire: Diana’s brood, to be specific. I only keep up the visage of mystique because it is habitual. Apparently some nobles are less understanding about my heritage than you, as are most witch hunters. I am here with the Queen’s Blades at the behest of Xavier: he...informed me that refusal would lead him to informing other nobles of my secret. If I agreed to assist the Queen’s Blades, I could say the infliction is a war wound, as it were.” She obviously hid some details from the angel: such as how she sought out the Vampirism willingly, but still, the act of sharing was...uniquely refreshing.

“My mother would have executed you without a second thought. She was the Witch Hunter. I merely trained with them so I might have the skills to fulfill the duties I learned from my father’s sermons,” she approaches the first of the dead, a small thing that had any of them bothered to know the name of would be known simply as Child. She offers a quick gesture over her brow and heart to the dead and murmurs a soft prayer. “Personally, Alicia… I find no real hatred with the Vampires. I have my… pre-imposed notions of other races put into me by my culture, perhaps, but who would I be, to judge others for their kind when I would seek to be judged not for the crimes of Angels?”

Alicia had walked past Child and was moving closer to the fallen arachnid: Dreadfang. She once again felt the twinge of sadness that came with witnessing his, very literally, crushing defeat at Dirge’s hand. The denting in his chest cavity was painful just to look at. “It seems your mother had a bit of a wild side, if she chose to wed an angel: perhaps we could have got on after all.” She leans down and attempts to heft the Scarab onto her back, finding it surprisingly easy, thanks to her heritage and the fact he was a lighter, sneakier creature. “As for what it would make you: it makes you a good person. I’ve always been curious what that was like, perhaps you might show me in the coming time we spend as members of this orginisation.”

Rayvon has a fond smile for a moment as she lifts Child delicately into her arms, cradling him like a wee toddler in her embrace. “My mother was a good woman. Perhaps you would like her, should she ever be freed from the royal dungeon…” She shifts a hand, closing Child’s lifeless eyes, a hint of pain in her expression for this lost soul. “But, yes… I could show you. The Angelus Decretum, if I could manage it, would do well to be spread. Especially in a time of blight as this…”

Alicia shifted the parasol so that it hung off of the motionless body of Dreadfang, so that she might use both hands to carry the dog-sized Scarab. “Come now, let us dwell on less depressing things than blight and dungeons and religion. Let us talk about more interesting little tidbits. The ball, perhaps: or your own mission. I’m assuming everyone survived? Was there anyone particularly interesting on your team? You made mention of me as ‘another vampire’ after all.”

“There was one who sacrificed their own life in order to disarm the bomb. I am ashamed I did not know her name, given her martyrdom for the sake of so many…” Anger passes over her face for a moment as she recalls the events only so long ago, “One of the Blades defiled her body. And that of one of the vampires who passed. The cur… looted their corpses as if it was nothing…” She shakes her head, “But, yes… There were two vampires… Both of Malaki’s brood. One passed, taken by the explosion, but would have died regardless as he helped this James character… The other, kin of his, was wounded terribly assisting us. I suppose he does well, given blood to drink of in the wake of things.” She begins to walk back towards the lake, Child in her arms still. “There was… another interesting one, but a woman of terrible upbringing. Perhaps because she is drow, or simply because she is some uptight priestess of their culture.” She snorts disgustedly at the mention of her.

Alicia grins at the open disdain from the Angel-borne. It amused her, to be sure: but only because it surprised her. “Such disgust is normally reserved for lovers and villains. What on earth did she do to upset you more than the looter?” All the while, she began to follow after Rayvon, hauling the Scarab on her shoulders and balancing the parasol with relative ease. Vampirism sure had its perks.

Rayvon tenses and barks at Alicia, “She is no lover of mine!” She huffs and clutches the deceased closer as there comes a heavier, neigh angry motion to her steps. “The woman not only ignored the looting of the dead, but decided it was worthy to try and blast said looter away with magic over the organs of a deceased spider!” She fumes at that, barely giving pause for breath as she continues, “When I saw fit to interrupt it, the harlot stole a kiss from my lips and all but mocked me.” She sniffs indignantly, “So, perhaps she is a villain. She plays as one well enough. Such a temper on her over petty things.”

Alicia pauses at the sudden outburst, unaware that a person’s mood might shift over so simple a thing. Yet soon enough, the outburst becomes a bit more understandable and she giggles. “Truly? To think that a drow might be so scandalous. Still, your actions seemed to have kept a man alive, even if he was a cretin. Is that not worth a little indignation?” Alicia made a mental note to seek out this Drow at a later date, if only to see what kind of being had so easily figured out how to disarm Rayvon’s composed demeanour.

She flushes and shakes her head. “My dignity could take the blow, but the woman stole more from me than that,” she states simply.

“Your first kiss, then? Unless the drow is even more bold and even more swift than I thought possible.” Alicia takes a moment to heft the broken Dreadfang a bit more comfortably onto her shoulders: The scarab’s plating making it impossible to get a nice, comfortable position.

Her cheeks only serve to grow redder as she too quickly retorts, “This is hardly polite conversation for a noble.”

“Impolite conversations are the best kind though. Do you think anyone would actually want to be a noble if all we talked about was silk, honey and gold? Clearly you have much to learn about Courts and politics.” She was still smiling at the endearing sight of the armoured paladin with the pink-flushed cheeks, but she found her composure long enough to spot the lake in the distance. “Still, we can change the subject if you want. Are you excited for this ball to come? To think that we shall have a ball in our honour: the excitement is palpable.”

Rayvon furrows her brow, trying to coax down the colour in her cheeks. “I don’t really know. I do not really see the point in balls, nor have I the knowledge of what it must be like aside from stories. It might be pleasant, to learn more of other lands given the audience meant to partake, I suppose?”

“Old gods above, I think I’m going to have to teach you what balls are all about. One does not go to balls for simple pleasure: It is a show of power, as well as an opportunity to forge social ties. No doubt the Renaltan queens hope that we Queen’s Blades might secure friendships with any that might attend. Perhaps we might even find rumours, to be followed up by spies at a later time. You would be surprised how many noble families rise and fall upon the back of a secret spilled alongside the party’s wine.”

Rayvon frowns at that notion, “This ball sounds like a dreary thing. If I must attend, so be it, but I would rather spend my time in a more useful manner that does not indulge in the language of nobles and prove beneficial only to see skeletons to light that might be better unseen.”

“You can happily go to the ball and have a good time, my dear. If you so desire, think of it not as a time for that deception you think you lack, and as an occasion to wear one of those silk dresses you fear breaking. I’m sure a creature as radiant as you will be of great popularity at the ball. Men of all races and state shall line up to dance, I am certain. Men that would prove invaluable to the Queens, no doubt. Imagine the approval you shall gain if the radiant Rayvon might forge the alliance between a state and Renalta? There is power in a ball, and as Kouri said, our aim should be to gain power.” 

Rayvon squares her shoulders. “I care little for power or approval, or…” she shudders and adds, “Dancing.” As they come up to the lake’s shore, Rayvon pauses, watching the lapping waves. Her attention averts back to Alicia, “Wait for a moment. There might be a chance for this one, but I am unsure how much can be done with that one… His body is so heavily damaged it may not do well.” As they look about, they would both notice the absence of the Queens. Only some militiamen could be seen, going about their business nearby.

“Dancing and fighting go hand in hand. We should make a wager when we eventually duel, but that is something for another time.” She places the broken Dreadfang on the ground, lying his corpse gently on the dirt as she watched the angel holding the Child-like corpse of the fallen. “Still, sometimes a man will seek you out just for the pleasure of your company...Or at least, that is what they will advertise as their intent. They would almost certainly seek a little bit more, not that any would dare try and take it by force from one such as you. A frail and delicate noble such as myself has much more to worry about.” Alicia offers the woman a wink, before plucking the parasol from the perched position atop Dreadfang.

Her amusement at the former piece of conversation was quick to die at the latter. A faint quiver comes to Rayvon at such conversation and she calls out, voice trembling, “Do not… talk about such. Not in my company. That is all I ask.” Rayvon begins to wade into the water, holding Child carefully above the lapping waves for now. 

“I shall respect your wishes. It would hardly be wise to run off the first person I’ve been able to enjoy a civilised chat with since joining this strange expedition.” She smiles politely, watching the woman with a healthy interest. She wondered what truth there was to these waters. “I am sorry if I did offend you, I’m not sure on what conversational pieces are considered ‘safe’ among others. I have such a morbid curiosity, and sometimes I forget others don’t share it.” Still, as she sat on the lakeshore, she wondered what was really bothering the woman. There is shrewd, and then there is something a bit more.

“It is excused for now,” Rayvon calls back, now up to her waist in water. She worries what it might do to her armour and leathers, but cares little as she lowers Child into the depths of lake Arian. For a moment, nothing happens as Child’s lifeless form floats in the depths. Yet, even as her hopes began to sink, with the wind, whispers drift to her ears. Angelic voices, detached in gender, play across the lake. Her eyes widen as she looks about in wonder. Yet, still no stirrings came from Child. She blinks, getting the sense that one of the Royal line must be involved as she looks back to Alicia.

That is when one of the militiamen at the shore call out, “Look there!” in awe as he points to the lake. From the shore, those paying attention could see a growing shimmer of light upon the waters nearby Rayvon and the drifting deceased. Rayvon turns back suddenly and sees, there beneath the surface of the water an ethereal character, akin to the childlike one she carried in beating at the lake surface, as if barred by a wall. Rayvon jumps with a start, splashing back as she cries out to Alicia, “We have to get the Queens!”

“...” Alicia was admittedly dumbfounded by the display in the lake. She had been skeptical at first, when she had heard of a life giving lake, but there was something going on here: a powerful something. “I sure know how to pick them…”

Heeding Rayvon’s call, Alicia rises from her position, parasol in hand. She wished the sun was set, so that she might actually run at a fuller pace, but even without it she set off in a sprint towards the town. She had already made an ass of herself in front of the Queens of Renalta once, why not do it a second time?