Castle Shadow Worth; a fortress built with its back to the Spine, its only way in or out a bridge connecting the isolated outpost to the main road leading from Gemmenia to Drakka. The large crevice served as a barrier to keep any outsiders from invading, though in more recent history, insiders from wandering away. As the sun began to set, the valley the keep was tucked away in sunk into the shadows, any warmth the day brought vanished along side the dying light.

Numerous brides had already arrived, their delivery staggered throughout the day, yet the keep remained as cold and silent as ever. Small voices that dared to speak out remained at a weak whisper while their captors’ echoed off the stone halls.

“The last of the girls will be here shortly.” The gruff voice of Sek Leon pulled the eldest of the princes from his thoughts. Glancing over his shoulder, Gaelnesh took in the familiar sight of the keep’s master. “Ten more than last year, as requested. We had to clear out the west wing to make room for them all… Sir, if I may ask, will our king be joining us this year?” Gaelnesh crossed his arms, shaking his head in response.

“No. His attention is needed in the capital.” Just as it had been for the past ten years. Rarely did the king make public appearances any more, his health unbefitting of a Drakkan ruler. His presence was a formality any how, seeing as it was left up to Gaelnesh to oversee the important tasks. And anything that did not require such strict and direct supervision was left up to his younger counterpart Ehkota.

In that moment, another guard approached and whispered into Sek Leon’s ear. Nodding his understanding, the Keep Master turned back to his prince with the news.

“It seems the last of the girls have arrived, my prince, shall we go see what our thralls have sent us this year?” The prince allowed the man to lead the way, despite knowing the path by heart by this point. Their destination was a large, barren courtyard lined with guards whose only jobs were to maintain the stock they had just been delivered. Dead trees occupied every corner, the fading light casting eerie claw-like shadows through them.

Waiting off to the side, the prince watched on with satisfaction as Sek Leon addressed his temporary wards. Even he had to resist the urge to jump as the man’s voice barked out a well practiced speech, sharpened eyes quick to note more than a few girls shivering at the sound.

“There was a time when your people were unable to defend themselves due to your inherent weaknesses. Were it not for our kindness, you all would have been slaughtered at the hands of your foes. And, as it stands, you are the only thing of value to us that your country could provide to repay such kindness. In three days time you will be given to your new lord husbands. You will bear their children. You will tend to their every need. And you will obey them for they hold the right to do with you as they please.”

Pausing to allow the message to fully sink in, his well practiced eyes flickered across the crowd. He made sure to note which eyes shone with tears, and which ones did not. Seemed that more than a few would require… extra attention.

“We Drakkan are not kind as you know kindness. Your lords do not care that you have just lost everything, and neither do I. I only have three days to train the lot of you, know… that is not nearly enough time. Learn as much as you can and pray to your heathen gods that it is enough to get you through.” Turning his head slightly, the keep master nodded his head signalling the wardens to step forward and take position around the Gems.

“You will now be taken to your rooms where you will remain until morning. The doors will be locked to ensure your compliance and your safety. Any attempt at an escape will be seen and dealt with as high treason, so think very carefully. There will be clothing set out for you in your rooms. Try not to get them dirty, it is all you will be given until your arrival in the capital. Sweet dreams little song birds.” The man’s snickering laughter carried about the courtyard as the group was led away to their rooms. It would be the last sound, aside from their own sniffling tears, that they would hear until morning.

At first light the following morning, the Gems were roused by the hammering fists of their designated guards. Heavy thumps fell against the solid wood, Drakken throwing open doors and barking orders for the girls to dress quickly and head for the dining hall. Additional guards made their rounds about the hallways, stopping Gems that had managed to wander off in the wrong direction; awaiting all too eagerly for a girl who refused to obey. While each and every Drakkan posted at Shadow Worth were under strict orders not to leave visible bruises anywhere it mattered, that still left a lot of the Gem’s body to work with for punishments.

The dining hall itself was a long, rectangular room with three fireplaces lining either side and four long tables filling the space. Each table was filled with simple, a mix of dishes familiar and unfamiliar depending on who was looking at them. Clearly, the more colorful foods belonged to the Gemmenia side of the spine, the duller ones belonging to the Drakka side.

Keeping watch over the girls while they gathered to eat were guards that seemed rather content on letting the girls be, giving them plenty of space to grow used to their surroundings so long as they didn’t step out of line. They kept watchful eyes but for the most part made sure to keep their distance, posted in each of the corners and by any of the exits… Including the windows.




In more recent years, Železna Kri had taken on a new air of importance despite its long history as Drakka’s reigning capital. The air was filled to the brim with an excitement and a restlessness that came about each and every year. It was almost as if the streets themselves were alive, lying in wait to be soaked in the blood of fallen challengers. A common occurrence to be sure when it came to the Reaping. Massive bodies pushed past one another, an unusual sight any other time of the year, packing the streets to capacity as Drakken of all standings gathered for the festivities. For many this was a yearly opportunity to prove themselves to one another, and most importantly, to their royal family. Lords from all over the land would be staying within the capital as they awaited the arrival of their prizes, giving some of the lessers an opportunity to gain favor with a more powerful family if they were able to impress.

The streets were not made up of just the Drakkan, however, for the edges were lined with market stall after market stall selling goods of every kind. The scents of various foods, both domestic and foreign, wafted into the air. Bright colors drew in the eyes of wealthier Drakkan, servants in charge of selling beautiful cloth and jewels meant to ornament the very brides being delivered this just a few days. So many people, so many distractions, it would have been easy to miss the occasional glimmer slipping between the darkened forms of the Drakkan population. Previously reaped Gems were dragged through the crowd by their masters, the sunlight reflecting beautifully off of their shimmering skin.

One such creature was a small earthen Gem whose shadow consisted of a rather lanky fellow who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. With each step forward, the girl grew more and more timid, no doubt remember her time spent in the city when she herself was delivered to its jaws. Such a time seemed so long ago by this point; a different time, a different Drakkan. Now she found herself forced to return, led by the scowling force behind her.

“I’ve changed my mind.” The small voice barely carried over the bustling noise of the overcrowded streets. Had it not been for the man’s attentive nature, the words would have been easily missed. “This isn’t a good place. I need to go back. I need to… not be here.” Stopping at an invisible line, the Gem looked into the shifting crowd before her. She kept her voice mellow as if she were stating a fact rather than her own emotions despite the fact that she bore no power in this realm. “I’m sorry. I will take myself back.” The small earth Gem turned as if to walk away only to find herself running face first into an unmoving torso.

Slowly shifting his eyes downward, the Drakkan raised an unamused eyebrow. “And where exactly is it that you think you are seeing yourself back to, missy?” While Azilon had long since learned the small one’s name, he chose not to call her by it. A creature, once named, often became an attachment and he was not so inclined to keep Rya under his care longer than he had to. He had agreed, after quite a bit of pestering from a certain servant of his, to at least bring her back to the capital in order to have her rehomed. He figured it would have been an easy task considering the influx of Drakkan entering the city for the Reaping and related events. All he had to do was find somebody to sell her to, and he would be free to return home. Or so he thought.

“Well, well, well… What do we have here? Is that you Az?” Azilon didn’t turn to face the voice that had called him out, his eyebrow twitching with his annoyance. Of all the people he would have rather avoided running into, this probably topped the list. “It’s been such a long time, I almost forgot what you looked like. If hadn’t known better I would have mistaken you for Sala-” Before the newcomer could finish uttering his sentence Azilon’s left arm had snapped out, fingers wrapping tightly around their neck to cut off the sound, his body calmly turning to face the youngest of the reigning princes.

“A long time indeed if you are mistaking me for that bastard Salazar. I look nothing like him.” He hissed in response, maintaining a lack of facial expression in response to Ehkota’s devious smirk. The few guards he had about him tensed up at the interaction, prepared to jump forward at a moment’s notice. They were, however, waved off as the young prince effortlessly knocked Azilon’s arm away from his neck.

“I see. My mistake.” He mused, eyes shifting ever so slightly to the Gemmenite standing at the smaller Drakkan’s side. “Congratulations on your bride by the way, but I am curious as to where you acquired this particular beauty. After all, she looks quite familiar, I just don’t remember handing her over to you.” The prince’s words carried the hint of a challenge despite the fact that his eyes had yet to leave Rya’s small form.

“I found her.” Azilon responded shortly.

“Found?” Ehkota questioned, eyes shifting back to the Drakkan warrior.

“Found.” He repeated, not backing down in the slightest. The pair locked eyes for a few brief moments that seemed to stretch on for ages before the prince broke away.

“I take it you won’t mind us taking her off your hands then? A ‘found’ Gem must have plenty of stories to tell. I’d be particularly interested in hearing the one about how you ended up so far away from home, my dear.” The girl looked up at the Drakkan prince alarmed, drawing closer to Azilon as she opened her mouth to respond. Azilon growled internally as the guards drew closer once again, wrapping his right hand around the girl’s mouth to silence her while using his cloak to take a defensive stance over her. The air began shifting around the pair, cycling about them as a silent threat to those seeking to step closer.

“The man was an idiot. His death was of his own carelessness.” The prince’s face fell at these words, seeming to be taking in the information and judging its validity. It looked as if he were going to say something else on the matter when one of his charges stepped forward to whisper something into his ear. Nodding, the Drakkan prince tilted his head in the direction of the messenger.

“Good, good. Tell the young Kinner that I will meet him there shortly.” The messenger bowed his head in understanding before taking off to deliver the message, meanwhile the prince had returned his attention to Azilon. He gave the man a sly smile with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Finders keepers I suppose, after all I trust you know how to handle your own affairs. I do, however, recommend you stick around for the festivities. I’ll see to it you finally receive a bride. Don’t want people getting the wrong idea about your motives now do we?” At this point, Ehkota had talked the man into a corner. While he doubted the full truth was being told, he would have been lying if he said he cared at all about it. What mattered to him was getting Azilon to finally play the same game he was expected to. He did, however, have other matters to attend to and couldn’t afford to spend much more time teasing the lord.

“I take it you can see to your own housing arrangements as well, or will your relationship with your father have you seeking secondary settlement with the rest of the unestablished guests? You might get a few wayward looks for choosing not to stay at your estate like a proper lord, but hey, that’s none of my business now is it? We’ll be expecting your presence at the dueling pits later on with the rest of the Drakkan receiving their brides. I suggest you keep your… findings… close to you.” Without another word, the prince turned his back on the pair and sauntered away to see to more important matters.

One second Nadia was with her father, and in the next there was chaos. People were rushing off the street, and soon a large hand grabbed her shoulder. As she turned to face the hand's owner, she realized that one of her fears had suddenly come true. It was a Drakkan warrior, here to take girls for the reaping. In his other hand he held the arm of a girl Nadia recognized as the librarian's daughter. He started pulling the both of them towards a carriage, where another Drakkan told them that they both had just an hour to pack a single small chest with whatever they deemed necessary to bring.

"B-but, wait I-"

“Shut up girlie.” The first Drakkan interrupted her, shaking her in his grip. “Now, where do you live?”

"About 20 minutes outside of town by horse.” Her father spoke up from behind Nadia, standing where she couldn't see him. "I am her father, and while I will not attempt to keep her from you, if you will allow it I will go and pack a few things for her and meet you back here before you leave. Please." As he finished speaking, it seemed as if the Drakkan was actually considering the proposal.

After a moment the Drakkan nodded, sneering as he replied. “Alright. But we are leaving in exactly an hour, whether you're back here or not.” The grip he had on her arm tightened at the last few words, and Nadia desperately tried to turn around and look at her father, tears already starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

"If I'm not back by then, I'll just follow you all the way to Shadow Worth." The way he said it almost made her want to laugh- it was as if he were simply talking to a customer, with how calm his voice sounded. She heard him leave then, and didn't see him again before the hour was up. The two Drakken forced her and Onyx into the carriage to begin the days-long trip to the border, the Drakken not allowing her to wait even a minute longer for her father.

After the first few hours, and nothing but tears from Nadia, Onyx started reading one of her books out loud. The story alone was enough to distract Nadia from their circumstances, helping her to get through the trip. Whenever Onyx's voice started to give out, She asked Nadia if she would take over, and so they spent the next days taking turns reading the books out loud. Over the course of the trip the two managed to read two whole books, and Onyx was about half-way through a third when the carriage suddenly lurched to a stop.

The Drakken ordered them out of the carriage, and Nadia couldn't help the choked sound of sadness she made at the order as she climbed down to the cold stone ground of the mountain pass. Before she could start crying again, Onyx spoke to her one last time before one of the Drakken started dragging the Earth Gem away. "Don't worry. You'll be ok."

"Thank you." Nadia said softly, wiping her eyes. After a moment, she glanced at the other Drakkan still standing by her at the carriage, wondering why she wasn't being dragged around yet. Seeming to guess what she was thinking, he motioned down the path towards Gemmenia and muttered something about someone following them.

She started to hear the familiar sound of her father's horse’s hoofbeats at about the same time she turned around to see him riding up the pass, towards them. Within seconds he was there in front of her, holding her tightly in his arms. She couldn't speak, even though she tried, her voice was choked with tears. It took her a moment, but once she caught her breath, she suddenly couldn't think of anything to say. Her father was listing things he'd packed for her. A sewing kit, a few outfits, and a few “presents” in his own words. The Drakkan took the chest from her father and told them to hurry up. Nadia hugged him tightly as every word she'd never get to say to him again began pouring from her lips. "I love you, dad. So, so much. Tell mom that I love her too. And I'll miss you both. Dad, dad I-"

"Alright, that's enough." She was cut off by the Drakkan pulling the two gems apart, practically picking her up off the ground as she struggled, though she went limp after a moment, allowing herself to be carried into the fortress as her Father waved goodbye and then mounted his horse, watching her disappear into the shadows of Shadow Worth before leaving. “You know, you're lucky. That's almost never allowed to happen.” The Drakkan said as he put her back on her feet in front of a courtyard. “Now go join the others, girlie."

Nadia managed not to cry during the speech. That's about it though. As she was shoved into her cold room in the west wing of the worth, the tears began to flow once again. She barely remembers lighting a fire in the hearth in the corner before collapsing into the bed, a pile of shivering tears.

When she woke up, she felt numb- like her heart had decided to stop beating in the night but her mind hadn't followed suit. She changed into the grey pants and tunic that'd been given to her, and once she noticed she was cold she went to tend the slowly dying fire in the hearth. After a minute, she accidentally put her face in the flames- jumping back now she was fully awake and aware of her surroundings as she used her powers to put out the fire completely. She knelt by the hearth and put her face in her hands, sobbing loudly. She wasn't hurt, thankfully, but... "Oh, Pyrus! What is wrong with me?!"

After a minute, thundering fists began knocking on the doors to all the Gem's rooms, and Nadia had to compose herself quickly. She glanced at the chest her father had packed for her before leaving the room, and remembered at the last second her idol of her patron god. Pyrus' image, carved into a piece of volcanic rock small enough to fit in her pockets unnoticed. She pulled the trinket out of the pocket of the dress she'd been wearing the last few days, and put it carefully in the left-hand pocket of her pants before another series of knocks made her realize that it really was time to go, now.

She followed the Guard's directions to the banquet hall, where everyone was eating breakfast. Nadia's heart soared as she saw the Gemmenite dishes on the table. They didn't have to eat drakken food! She sat at an empty table and began piling a plate with fruits and sweet-rolls. She was going to enjoy this while she still could, because she knew there was no telling what lay in her future now.

---

"...and with one final swing of our Hero’s sword the great beast fell. As it stole one last breath, it spoke a curse on the Hero’s soul, that for every beast they would slay from that point forward, the hero would lose something much dearer-" The sudden lurch of the carriage as it stopped caused Onyx to lose her place on the page. She'd been reading to those riding with her, another Gem named Nadia and two Drakken, to pass the time during the trip, and to help calm herself and her fellow Gem. "Oh, Are we here already?" She closed the book and smiled at everyone in the carriage. She wasn't sure how much the Drakken had liked the story, if at all, but judging by the looks on their faces they had actually been interested, at least.

One of them sighed and opened the door, both guards getting out of the carriage before the second one spoke. “Alright. Out, both of you. Don't forget your things.” Onyx nodded and put her book back into the small chest she'd been allowed to bring. The chest held five other books, a handful of seeds for a special kind of plant, and a small stone carved into an image of Vivari herself, hidden under a dress that used to belong to Onyx's mother. Onyx got out of the carriage after Nadia, smiling at her as she did- one final reminder to the timid Fire Gem to stay calm. "Don't worry. You'll be ok." She didn't like the fact that she couldn't prove the words true, but, from what she'd gotten to know about the small girl during their time together so far, something in her made her think that she would, in fact, be fine.

As the two girls were led to a rather large courtyard, Onyx fond herself wishing she could be so confident about her own chances for survival. The apparent leader of the Worth's Drakken gave a speech, and then suddenly they were all being shuffled off to bed for the night. Onyx Didn't cry, like many of the girls there, but she had furrowed her brows in worry. As she lay down for the night, her mind was racing with vivid imaginings of just what was in store for them now.

In the morning, she woke up shivering. The Worth was high in the mountains of the spine, and so it was ridiculously cold, even compared to the winters of her hometown. She dressed quickly, only deciding to put on the ugly Grey tunic and loose-fitting trousers that the drakken had left in her room for her because it was warmer, and cleaner, than the dress she'd been wearing on the trip. Just before leaving the room she'd been assigned, she took another one of her books from her chest, figuring that she could read as she waited for whatever "lesson" was in store for them all today. She walked into the room the guards motioned her to, and as soon as she was there, she sat at a table and started reading.

None of the foods on the table interested her but, every few pages or so, she forced herself to pick up a small fruit or roll and eat, because she knew she'd likely starve if she didn't force herself to eat something now. Of course the guards weren't going to just let that stand, and a couple of them walked over to her. After a well placed glare and a few big words they didn't quite understand, neither of the Drakken guards who had tried to take the book from her bothered her again, and she noticed a few other guards laughing at how she sent them off. She wasn’t meek, just soft spoken, and she wasn't about to give up anything left she had of who she is.

---

Kendra was already in the Banquet hall before most of the other Gems. It felt like she hadn't slept at all, so she just rushed to the Banquet hall as soon as she was let out of her room, hoping that some food might fix the problem. She was eating a little bit of everything, because she didn't really recognize any of the foods on the table. She was an odd one, apparently, because everyone else seemed to know what was going on and she- well, she simply had no clue. She'd never heard of the Drakken race before a little while ago when their reapers came to her small, Island village, and dragged her away to this cold mountain keep.

She watched the other Gems as they all entered the room, unconsciously categorizing them all in her mind. That one's been crying, that one just needs a hug... She should probably just eat something, and the one reading a book should too... She couldn't understand why they were all so devastated- certainly, they'd all been taken from their homes and that was bad, and Kendra did miss her family and her village, but it really seemed like all these girls thought they were suddenly charged with a death sentence. Perhaps, when someone came in who wasn't a total mess, Kendra could reach out and ask for some explanations. She herself wasn't scared- she just had no idea what there was to be afraid of yet.

Kagan Galegar

_{Kinner of The High Chruch of Krenta
Interacting with: Ehkota of the Royal Family of Drakka @Ellion}

Železna Kri was barely three days walk from Jerun, but it always surprised Kagan how stark a contrast there was between the two cities. Železna Kri roared with life, men and women (and Gems, if one were to consider those people) hurriedly pushing past one another with only muffled obscenities and the occasional clacking of horns to signal they were even aware of the horde that surrounded them. The air of the city seem to weigh on everyone, heavy and wet with the stench of sweat, blood from battles long forgotten, and...sexual musk. Though Kagan would wager that last one was a more recent addition, and an unwelcome one if his nose had anything to say on the matter.

Jerun, meanwhile, was barely a whisper by comparison. It was by no means small, its proximity to the capital had assured its impressive growth, but it was less densely contained. A hide away of the middling classes, who could afford the greater luxury of privacy he supposed. A cramped apartment style home, as seemed common here, would seem almost quaint among the sea of gothic stone spires in Jerun. Conversely, gardens (however small), seemed to be exclusive to the wealthiest among the city and Kagan found himself longing to see even the smallest hit of green, if only to break up the miasma of brown rock that was this town.

There were only two things that could ever make Kagan consider living in Železna Kri permanently. First and formost as the local temple to Krenta, a tall white spire of alabaster graffiti-ed with reliefs to the death god and his followers. And, more importantly, a maze of tombs and catacombs holding the remains of some of the greatest men in Drakka's history below.

Second was the food. Jerun was a Drakken city, through and through. Its meals simple, filling, and with little else behind them. But in Železna Kri food from the Gemminite's flowed more freely than its women. Rich vegetable broths, flavorful greens and spice meats were just a few things Kagan justly held in far higher regard than the women who would cook them. Tea, in particular, had struck a harmonious cord with him. Most Drakken wouldn't piss in a kettle for the stuff, it either being too sweet or subtle for their palates. But for Kagan, it was a guilty pleasure, and he made it a point to stock up on his rare ventures into the town.

And so he sat in a small cafe, mercifully freed from the foot traffic and pack now heavy with freshly bought herbs. He sips his drink enjoying the soft lemon like flavor (not that he had much context of what a lemon was meant to taste like), patiently waiting on his meeting. He attempted not to dwell on why a Prince of all people needed to met him, but the idea of losing his tithe to a technicality was worrying.

[Adorabella]

_{Bride of Unknown [@"character player"] and Sister Bride of Unknown [@"character player"]
Interacting with: n/a [@"character player"]}

She was just beginning to settle into her life. Travelling a long way from the village which had been her childhood home to realize her destiny and become a part of the noble class of Gems. It had been quite rocky at first but she refused to let slips and mistakes stand in her way. After all, if one was going to do something they should do it properly. It was just so difficult to get down the nuances of court life, not that she had been to court, and understand the politics of it. She also had to remember not to use the slang she had grown up within her village, which could be tough.

Her parents’ house was the largest she had ever seen in her life, though it was not the largest in the city by far. It was there she sat, in the beautiful gardens. A large tree supported her back, giving them shade from the warm rays of the sun. In her hands a picture book was open and from it, she read while her sleeping brother rested in her lap. The small child had been her blessing. He was not someone who judged or corrected her. Adorabella could only have felt more peace if she were sitting at the creek which ran through the forest near her home village.

The sounds of terror told her something was amiss. In the distance, she could hear sobbing and crying. Screaming. Begging. It came so soon. She prayed she would have more time to spend with her family. She prayed she would not be taken from them.

Slowly she moved the sleeping child from her lap, laying him gently in the grass amongst the beautiful flowers which grew around them. She crept toward the front of her family’s property cautiously, wondering if she would see the Drakken. Adorabella knew them only by their name and the terrible visage described to her by the townsfolk. Even her parents told her the horror stories. They had all seemed as just that, stories to her.

Alas, it was the Drakken. She could see the cart moving down the cobbled road toward the estates. Their features were harsh and they seemed so much larger than had ever been described to her. She fled, scooping Drasyl into her arms and rushing toward the house as quickly as she could. “Mmm… What…?” he mumbled, sleepily opening his eyes as he clung to his sister.

“Sssssh,” she murmured back. “We’re going inside.” Once behind the safety of her family’s walls she gave the boy to one of the servants. Her mother came down the stairs, finely dressed as always.

“It’s happening,” her mother said in a panic.

“I know.” Adorabella fell into her mother’s embrace. Olynna appeared from a side door, tears streaming down her face. She also hugged Adorabella tightly.

The door burst open and there stood a Drakken man. His face was grim and stoic. “Come,” he said simply. The deepness of his voice reverberated through her chest and made her heart skip in terror. Adorabella began to feel the tears rush down her own face. She felt she had only just gotten here. She didn’t have enough time! This simply wasn’t fair.

“Please,” she begged him. “Please, let me stay.”

“No, go pack yourself a small trunk of belongings. You have five minutes.”

She sighed tearfully and hurried up the stairs. Olynna rushed after her to help her pack. Her mother had crumpled onto the ground and stayed still. The two women rushed about, picking fine dresses, jewelry, and toiletries. In the trunk she also placed the picture book. It was Drasyl’s favorite and she wanted it to always have to remember him by.

The two women carried down the trunk. Her mother was being worried over by servants but she did not awake. A bit of anger crept into the pit of her stomach. The woman who had given her away at birth to protect her from this could not even find the strength to give her a proper goodbye. Adorabella felt two tiny arms around her legs. “Don’t go,” Drasyl managed to get out through heavy sobs. The anger she felt dissolved into a deep hopelessness. Drasyl, the dearest love of her life. She would not see him again.

“I have to. I do not have a choice.” In an effort to comfort him she found she could speak through her tears. She set the trunk down and knelt to envelop Drasyl in her arms. She hugged him tightly. “Know I love you very much and I hope that one day we will meet again.” She kissed his forehead. When she stood she scooped up her brother and turned to Olynna and said, “Take care of him please.” She handed Drasyl over though he tried desperately to cling to his sister.

“We haven’t got all day. Get going,” the Drakken growled. She heaved up her trunk, and without turning back followed the Drakken out of the house.

The shock of her situation dried her tears. She had no room left to feel an emotion and stared blankly out at her Gem sisters being forced away from their families. So many different expressions of grief sat around her. She couldn’t look at them. Normally she would have wanted to offer comfort but she could not think.

After a day of travel, she began to come out of her stupor. She spent the rest of the ride studying the landscape and searching the horizon for animals. What could she hunt? What plants did she recognize? Could she live off of this land? As they drew closer and closer to the castle she began to feel more despair. The place was so barren. There was no chance for her to survive here. She would have to rely on the monsters who had taken her. Bitterly, she thought of her naivete in thinking they were naught but fairytales. How could she have been so stupid? She felt anger at herself. Then anger at the Drakken. Then she resigned to her fate. This was to be her life now. She had always known this could happen. She closed her eyes and prayed.

When she opened her eyes again they had made it to the palace. It was daunting, macabre, and beautiful in a way. The mountains towered around it all snowcapped and steadfast. They even made the castle feel small. That was until they approached the soaring spires and massive wall. Could she bring herself to enjoy her life here? She supposed all it would take was a positive attitude. She had to find things she liked. Try new things. This world could be just as much of a home…. Couldn’t it?

In a tired blur, she listened to the speech. She allowed herself to be ushered into her room. She went over the directions she had been given over and over until even the words existed behind her eyelids. She just had to find some normalcy. Adorabella began to explore the room. It was very simple. There were a bed and an old vanity with a faded mirror in which it was hard to see her reflection. The single slit of a window showed the town, the wall ramparts, and the staring mountains. Behind a partition, she found a small basin with cold water.

Normalcy. She began to undress and using her skill with water allowed it to flow over her body. It danced away the dirt from her long travel and cooled her body. She normally hated the cold but it was fitting. It was a sensation. It was something she recognized.

She washed her hair, removing days’ worth of dirt. The water she deposited back into the bowl was nearly black. With her fingers began to brush the water out of her hair, drying it. Finally, she turned toward the bed where she pulled back the covers and buried herself in the warmth. She did not turn out the lights. She was much too tired. Too afraid.

Force of habit caused her to awaken before the sun. She brushed her fingers through her amethyst curls, arranging them neatly in the mirror as well as she could. The clothing left on her bed was as dull and lifeless as the landscape. She loathed the blandness of them. From her clothes from the day before she retrieved a bright coloured sash. It was dyed with floral patterns and from tassels at its ends hung small beads of sapphire and silver bells. She wrapped It around her waist to fit her curvaceous form. The outfit now gave her shape and some colour.

Adorabella stood by the window and watched for the sun to rise. Over the mountains, a burst of colour came. Sunrise here was the same as sunrise at home. Each delicate colour blended into each other. It brought life to the rocks. Her heart fluttered with hope. Here, she could love the sunrise just as much. She prayed and promised to greet its splendour every morning.

She was dashed from her reverie when the door burst open with a Drakken man barking orders at her. She would not allow his words to frighten her. Obediently she followed other Gems as they made their way to the breakfast hall. She recognized some food and so many she did not. Taking a spot as near to the warmth of a fire as she could, she began to place some of the delicious fruits and odd delicacies on her plate. If she were to grow accustomed to life here she would have to begin somewhere small. She had the sunrise. Perhaps she could find delicious new foods she could enjoy.

Slowly she made her way through the small portions on her plate. Adorabella did not waste food so she did not take more than she was willing to try of the new things. That which she liked she took a little more and that which she did not she forced down her throat before memorizing what the dish looked like.

Železna Kri was a far cry from frozen, misty valley of Harand Kor. The sun beamed down with a fury unnatural to Heccarim and the winds drifted sand and heat unlike the familiar dew and fog of his home. Few would believe the so called "Grave Warden" to be put off by things so trivial as weather, but there Heccarim was, groaning in heat while hiding in the basement of local lord by the name of Sal-Tarvis.

"I see the Warden's hunts rarely lead to warmer sands." a tall, young Drakken lord walked down the stairs to find Heccarim swinging his chains ideally. He opened his mouth to say more until he realized Heccarim was giving him an evil eye from the corner of his mask and his chains were now being twirled at him. A chill shot through his spine despite knowing full well who the man behind the mask was; he sent three of his brothers into the Grave Warden's open arms and graves to get to his position now. The fact that Heccarim was staying in his estate was a debt repayment of sorts, "So… Do you plan on doing today? Kidnapping people? Tormenting some poor soul?"

"Drag pitiful bastards to the depths of Harand Kor!" Heccarim boldly announced in his deep, echoing Warden voice before changing to a less terrifying vocal range, "Honestly, I was going to broad in the basement and just wait. I don't plan on making an entrance until the time comes. There is no need to let the masses see the Warden. Fear strikes best when you know of it second hand. Although given how little there is to do, fear might just strike first."

Another cold shot up the spine of Sal-Tarvis, the childhood stories of the Grave Warden still lingered despite him being one of the few who could claim they were "close" to a near mythical being. "You should at least have something to drink, the heat will--"

A chain shot past the young drakken's face as he jolted back out to dodge. With one flick of his wrist, Heccarim pulled a small barrel through the air and into his lap. Pulling his hook out of the wooden frame, Heccarim drank deeply from the crack in the barrel, "Thank you for the most generous offer." Sal-Tarvis fidgeted as he watch his guest just snatch an expensive keg of Covoltan Sweeten Brandy and just chug it down but was in no mood to try and test Heccarim.

Having downed about half the small keg, the Warden licked his lips as the last bits of alcohol dripped from his mask into his mouth and uttered one word, "Refreshing." As Sal-Tarvis slunk back up the stairs, the clanging of chains resumed Heccarim slipped into a deep thought on the future and namely his bride. "Hopefully she won't break like my father's, pitiful thing was blubbering and jabbering for hours until I put her down. At the very least she ought to survive childbirth… Harand Kor always demands a Warden after all."

Finishing the small barrel, Heccarim got up and pulled out his lantern, kindling embers snowing down from it, "And the Warden always demands a prisoner. After all, what's the difference between a grave and a cell?" The Drakken felt himself naturally slide back into character, his personality meshing flawlessly as he donned a new persona. And with a clang of his chain against lantern, his voice dropped and he laughed as fog spawned from the lantern and filled the room, "Justice is blind, and so will my victims as well."

A deep, ethereal cackle erupted as the Warden disappeared in his own fog, now on the hunt for some new soul to torment and build even more infamy upon. Unfortunately for Sal-Tarvis, the fog made quite a mess leaving mildew everywhere. "Heccarim, one of my servants is preparin-" the young Drakken walked in on a misty room covered in water, "Motherfucker! Do he know how hard it is to get moisture out of these fucking walls? I just had them cleaned too… By the gods… Servants! Get down here and start cleaning this mess!"

"My little one, you look beautiful," the old maid said lovingly.
"Thank you," Amelia replied formally.
Impulsively the older woman reached out and hugged the girl-child. "Out. All of you," she ordered and all of the younger servants went scurrying away. When they were alone Treema began braiding small bits of her hair on either side of her head, pulling them back and fastening them with a tie in order to keep the hair out of the girl's face. "Remember little one, the only way to even hope for safety and security is for you to entice a Drakken in high standing. Even if he is ugly as sin itself and smells like death warmed over, once he claims you as his property no one will dare touch you. And if he is taken enough with your beauty he will endeavor to retain that beauty by not harming you."
Amalia nodded mechanically. She had been told this many times before, since she had turned 12 and had her first woman's time. Once her first bleeding had occured her mother had informed her of her eventual fate. Both of her parents had kept their distance since then, perhaps in an attempt to lessen the blow of losing their only daughter.

Amalia had grown up with only Treema and few servants for company. Her older brothers, four in all, kept away mostly as well. She didn't blame them for this. Whenever she did see them, the look of shame in their faces was enough to make her not want to see them either. She understood that they wished desperately to save her, but there was truly nothing that could do that wouldn't lead to war. The current peace was delicate and as thin as frost. Any misstep could lead to centuries of bloodshed and the eventual extinction of her people.

Amalia barely spoke and when she did it was in quiet tones and in as few words as possible. She had been groomed and tutored to be the perfect pet. A beautiful bird to sing and be kept in a cage, to be enjoyed at her master's whim. Amalia knew how to cook, clean, sew, weave, could play the harp and sing like an angel. Drawing had been attempted but abandoned, as had horseback riding.

Outside of the window, the town was silent. The people, who worked her father's land and lived under his protection as their liegelord, mourned for her already. They loved the fair maiden who was like an angel to them, the very embodiment of the Great Mother herself.

Amalia Solair, born of Earth and Sky. That is what they called her.

"It is time my little one," Treema finally said, turning her to face forward and brushing her shoulders and face. There was nothing there, but the older woman was stretching out their time together, fussing over her little one for the last time.

Finally there was a hesitant but solid knock on the door.
Pulling back, Treema, crying in earnest now, held Amalia's face in her hands. "Whoever choses you, HE is the fortunate one. HE is the one who should be grateful and HE is the one who is blessed by the Gods. No matter how the Drakken's act or speak to you, remember : the Great Mother sees all. Embody her patience, her love, her grace, her purity in all that you do and say and she will bless you."
Amalia nodded. "May the Great Mother look kindly on you Treema."

One of her father's men stood at the door, ready to guide her down to the waiting carriage. The black carriage was horrid looking, already having several Gem maidens inside whimpering.

Sunlight bathed the courtyard. Many people had gathered to watch her leave. Amalia hid her astonishment that her parents were there as well. They both stood stoic, but she could see the hurt in their eyes.
She presented herself to them with her head high but her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her mother embraced her child, not speaking. Her father laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Do not forget this land," were the only words he spoke to her.

Amalia climbed into the carriage and didn't look back as it set off. She finally allowed the tears that she had been holding to fall freely from her eyes.
Ahead of her loomed darkness and the unknown. Ahead were monsters and creatures of the damned. Ahead was her future, shrouded in pain, fear and shadow. What could a creature of light do but weep.

"Great Mother...," she prayed in her tears, the other Gems holding hands as they also bowed their heads in prayer. "Hear our plea... We beg you to turn your gaze to us... take us into your embrace as your beloved children... give us the strength to face the evil... protect us Mother... protect us... We beg you..."

She continued to pray aloud and held the trembling hands of her fellow captives as they were taken towards the dark.

---

Their welcome had been as reassuring as expected. Each girl was taken to a room and locked in. Several of her carriage mates had clung to Amalia, drawn to her calm spirit, but were roughly tore from her.
Unlike the women she had been brought with Amalia had an air of calmness about her. Of course she was terrified of her yet unknown future but she kept calm. Being near her would feel like being near the ocean.

The window of their rooms were too narrow to throw themselves from, but Amalia could see outside at least. The land was dark and twisted, so unlike her garden home by the sea it made her want to weep.
Tears glinted like pearls down her cheeks. How was she to survive this? Why had the Great Mother allowed such a thing? Did she not care for her devoted children? Why did she ignore their cries for help?

Needing to fill the silence with something other than the whimpers and cries of her fellow captives, Amalia sang gently a lullaby from her childhood.

"Just close your eyes,
The sun is going down,
You'll be alright,
No one can hurt you now,
Come morning light,
You and I'll be safe and sound..."

---

The next morning Amalia was awake before the pounding. She sighed and walked out, following the guards who lead her to the morning meal. Many girls looked like they hadn't slept. Some were still weeping. A few came close to her, almost as if her presence eased their nerves and they quieted.

The food looked edible at least. Amalia ate like a bird, not having much appetite. What were they to expect this day? What training could the Drakken have meant? She prayed the females with weaker constitutions would survive.

Amalia glanced around at the others. There were quite a few Gems so perhaps there would be be fighting as she had heard happening in previous years. Some Drakken would kill each other over a single Gen of great beauty.

With her pale skin, white hair and crystal blue eyes Amalia stood out. But there were several others of unusual beauty as well. One could definitely tell which Gems were of high breeding.

Arden Gaothaire

Interacting with: N/A

It had been nearly a year since Arden had seen her home… her family. It was a year ago that the Gemmenia court of Prìseil Aldentine came to her door, peacefully demanding her compliance. Arden’s family did not resist the court’s decision, however, she could still hear the gentle protesting of the other Air Gemmenites living in Makani. Freedom was a concept that was falsely portrayed in Gemmenia. No young woman was truly free; she was birthed with an expiration date and until she met that expiration date, she would live in fear until she was no longer desirable for the Reaping. True freedom was a concept that Air Gemmenites of Makani believed in. Rebellion, rebellion was but a newly birthed idea; a radical idea most were afraid to act on, let alone even speak about. Arden was that rebellion. A year ago, she was a man; living a necessary lie for her future survival. She had dreams, she had hopes. She was going to change the world, she was going to change something. At least that’s what she once thought.

Her soft eyes stared blankly ahead, not hearing the muffles of the Gemmenite elders speaking to her. Arden’s brow line hardened, losing herself in thought of the day her careless mistake ruined her life. The day that she was discovered. The Gaothaire’s secret would cast a shadow over their family name for generations to come as an act of rebellion. She didn’t want to think about what it would mean for her family to live in a city where they were known for something deemed as a vile act against the court. A sigh escaped her and as quick as the breath left her chest, a hand found itself on her shoulder. Arden snapped back into reality and met eyes with the woman in front of her, Illyia was her name. Illya was a Water Gemmenite that she been living with for nearly a year. Illya’s job was to teach her how to act more lady like. Illya’s job was to prepare her for the day she would be reaped.

“Arden, you’re lost in thought again. You know that is not becoming of a fine young woman. People are going to think your head is empty if you aren’t careful.” Illya cautioned, removing her hand from Arden’s shoulder. An unamused sigh escaped the Air Gemmenite’s chest, “We have been through this, Illya. You know how I feel about these womanly teachings, I do not understand why you insist on pushing the matter on me.”

Arden stood from her seat and walked to a nearby window. She gazed outside in awe of Prìseil Aldentine, it was a truly magnificent city. Illya’s voice sounded behind her, “Arden… you know that I am only doing as I am told. Listening to direction is something you’re going to have to grow accustomed to. I know you do not like it, you’ve made your distaste for how things are very clear… but I fear that if you cannot simply nod your head in agreeance more often, that you will be killed.” Illya was not wrong, Arden had always been strong-willed and honest to a fault. Her opinionated voice often led to reprimand but the woman held a respectful diplomatic voice nonetheless; people listened to she had to say. The Air Gem turned wildly toward Illya, “Listening to direction, Illya? Or do you mean following orders. I understand that I’m going to be a bride for the taking, but we aren’t in Drakka and I should be entitled to freely live as an individual for what little time I have left.” That was the last conversation Arden had with Illya. That very day, young Gemmenite women were ripped from Prìseil Aldentine, Arden being among them.

She had lost track of time and couldn’t remember just how long the journey was. Instead she remembered the cold uneven wood planks of the back of the cart she was thrown into. She remembered the soft whimpering of the other women who shared the cart with her. She remembered the disgusting cackling of the Drakken who came for them. The cart eventually arrived in Shadow Worth, a dreary place. The women were ushered out of their temporary home and forced into another. Arden had only thought about what this day would be like, she had been told what to expect. She would arrive in Shadow Worth, partake in a ceremony of some kind, and then become a Drakken’s property. The gem went through the motions, silently taking in her surroundings and listening carefully to the beasts that talked around her. Arden found herself in a courtyard littered with other Gemmenites, listening to a Drakken who was clearly in a position of power deliver what was supposed to be a frightening speech. Arden remained still and eerily calm given the threatening circumstance that was now her life. Her brow hardened, as it always did when she was displeased, disappointed, or bitter.

After the speech she was forced to a room in the west wing. There was a set of drab clothing on the bed, which matched the drab decor of the room. Her head was filled with the faces of the other Gemmenites in the courtyard, most of them sobbing and afraid. She thought about how each one of them had likely been freshly ripped from their families. Family. She had been ripped from her family so long ago now, but now more than ever she yearned for them. Arden’s fist lightly clenched at her waist. Auram, please grant me your strength to get through this…

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Daybreak had come with a loud roar at the bedroom door and a Drakken storming into her bedroom. Arden jumped out of bed, startled by the intrusion. He yelled at her to find her way to the dining hall and then was gone as quickly as he came. Once he was gone, she relaxed into her skin and slid into the drab clothing that was left for her; a pair of loose fit trousers and what appeared to be a young boy’s shirt. The Air Gem found her way to the dining hall, how she walked into the room demanded a certain presence to it. Arden, had being raised to be a man, walked with a certain assertiveness to her, which she became painfully aware of when she noticed a Drakken glaring at her from out of the corner of her eye. The young woman drew a breath in, held up her stature, and walked over to where the feast was laid out.

The catering table was littered with options from her homeland, a delicacy she did not expect in such a dark place, and other options that were bleak at best. Clearly the latter belonged to Drakka. Knowing that the latter was more likely the option she would be eating for the rest of her life, unless she was lucky enough to become the property of a monster who lived in a city that enjoyed the comforts of Gemmenia, she opted for mostly the bleak options and picked a couple from her homeland as a comfort. Arden looked around the room while collecting her breakfast, taking note of the other Gemmenite women already there. There were already dozens of them, scattered throughout the hall and although the room was filling quickly, it was deadly silent, as if there was not even a single soul within it. She wondered what they were thinking, how they were feeling. She imagined most of them were terrified, but she knew some of them had already accepted their fate by the look on their faces. Part of her knew that most of them were still coming to terms with their new realities, which explained the deathly silence that filled the room. All of the tables had some manner of people at them, Arden found a seat with an empty spot across the table in front of her. She sat next to two other Gems who were quietly eating their breakfast, looks of hopelessness tattooed on their face. She wanted to say something to them, her mouth opening slightly to speak but then stopping, catching herself searching for words that didn't come. Arden sat, quietly picking at her breakfast and losing herself in thought as she quietly observed the room directly in front of her.

Gwillim Gunnvalder stalked through the streets, towering over most of his peers, his mate matching his pace. He was never fond of the capitol city, Železna Kri. He visited only when he was required too. He much preferred to be out in the wilds, than cramped into this reeking and filthy city. Gwillim couldn't see more than stagnation and decay in the walls around him, but it was the way of things. He was glad his father had won the honor of being a warlord and so had private lodgings away from the lesser lords, eager to scrap with anything that moved and breathed. Gwillim grew tired of wasting his time and efforts on such pathetic opponents, his own mate Scyrvensrel could best most of them with only one arm. At last they arrived at the family palace, of sorts, and left the clamoring, clogged streets behind. Gwillim grunted in satisfaction, and saluted the head of the family guard, briefly locking horns with the slightly shorter drakken. Then he bid his mate make herself at home, before heading to the family shrine, to pay his respects to the gods.

Leaving the shrine he noticed the family had set about their usual flaunting of skill and wit. With matches against eachother, in groups or as individuals. The elders kept watch, lest serious injury be caused by family, before the real testing was done in public as proof of worthiness should any challenge the prince’s judgment on who had earned their brides. He strode confidently towards his father, but was intercepted by two younger cousins determined to prove their mettle against him. He checked to be sure it was just the two of them he was challenging before taking the time to enjoy tossing the small boys about. They weren’t weak, or udersized, they just couldn’t match Gwillim pound for pound, and neither had the experience to get his mass to work against him. Gwillim repeatedly sidestepped charges, cuffing the lads behind the head or shoulders to send them tumbling in to the dust. Eventually they advanced as a pair, but by now were to worn out to be much of a challenge to their much larger cousin. Gwillim held the at bay with ease, mocking them until their father came by and urged them to try their luck on less daunting foes before taking on Gwillim.

For his part, Gwillim resumed his path towards his father. His way was not blocked again, and he soon arrived, nodding and grunting in greeting to the man that had sired him. His father was shorter than he was, though only by a few centimeters. His father grunted back, and continued watching the boys play. Later they would discuss the pros and cons of aligning with either prince, but for now talk was centered on which of the boys was most likely to survive long enough to become a strong Drakken warrior. Though, even this was often little more than a grunt and a sharp gesture of the horns at a particular boy. The boys knew to leave their real strength for fighting other drakkan, but they played hard all the same, the better to be ready to fight others. In a few more decades Alfhildr would join the boys, and Gwillim meant to see to it that she’d hold her own. His daughter was growing stronger every day, and he pushed her to excel in her training. And so far she had met every challenge with exuberance, if not skill or grace. But those were coming along, or so Gwillim hoped, though his idea of grace would not be recognizable to most gems.

Gwillim wondered where his mate had wandered off too, she was welcome anywhere in the compound, excepting the bedrooms assigned to other family members. Actually, there were probably a few who wouldn’t mind welcoming her into their bed chambers, thought Gwillim wasn’t the least bit concerned that his wife would stray. He had long since learned of her preference in companions and respected her preference… It was odd, yes, but it didn’t make her weak in any way and she still played her part, giving birth to their striking young daughter Alfhildr. Gwillim hoped she’d find some … pleasure in the Gem bride he was looking forward to earning this reaping. He’d done each prince a minor task in his lands, and both had promised a bride, but he suspected those promises would only hold true if he pledged loyalty to that prince’s cause. Still, he might get to steal a bride the one granted proved too… unsatisfactory for Scyrvensrel.

Most of the girls in the line up held onto each other for strength. Every one of them seemly about to break under the weight of the task placed upon them.

These were the same girls who, only yesterday, were boasting clothing of the brightest colors and the latest styles. The usually over dressed girls of the capital were now wearing drab clothes saved for the reaping. Most of their faces bare and the few that did wear make-up used it to accentuate a particularly unpleasant feature. More than a handful showed clear signs of not having bathed in a while.

All common tactics used by the higher class women. Many of whom need not have bothered.

Compared to those girls, Bree shown like an ember in a dying fire. Her auburn hair twisted and pulled back after having been done up in curls. Her outfit, expensive silks. Created for traveling comfort and cut to accentuate all the right places. Her mother had gifted it to her the night before at her farewell party. A Lamary tradition dating back since the start of the reaping. Or nearly.

Bree and Allie held onto each other in eagerness. Hands twisted together with both nerves and excitement. It took a great deal of effort to keep the smile off her face. Finally, after so many years, the day had arrived.

The drakken made a show of selecting brides, and by the time they finally got to Aubree’s part of the line, she was more than ready to just be done with it. She watched as the head reaper whispered something into a guard's ear before gesturing towards her. The drakkan walked over, taking her arm and pulling her away. Only to feel an unexpected weight. He looked down and noted that the girls hands’ were still intertwined. The force of his pulling on Bree having dislodged Allie from the line as well.

“Release her, or we will have to bring her too. You don’t want that,” The drakkan kept its voice gruff, intimidation apparent.

“Yes I do,” said Bree, her voice holding an air of irritation towards the drakkan guard, as though he was missing some painfully obvious fact. The drakkan, who had been so dismissive before, stared at the fire gem in confusion before glancing at his superior.

“No, we aren’t bringing the other one,” Snapped the Head Reaper's voice in irritation. “Just get the Lamay girl in the carriage, we need to go," With that, Bree felt her hand wretched from Allie’s and found herself stuck in a small carriage. Her trunk already inside, as well as another Gem with a red blotchy face, trembling from crying.

“No--, you don’t understand. I need to talk to him,” said Bree, trying to weasel past the guard to get back to the Head Reaper “There's been a mistake you forgot-,”

“Stop resisting,” came the Drakkan Guard's low growl of a voice.

“I’m not resisting, you just-,” She didn’t get the words out of her mouth before the carriage door slammed shut. Bree reached over and yanked the curtain away from the small window. Her eyes hardened and narrowed at the back of the retreating guards back. She then shifted her eyes towards the female figure, still standing just out of line and Bree’s eyes softened at once.

Allie. She stood there, still and in shock. Behind the girl somewhere were Bree's parents and brothers, but they were just more faces in the crowd. Allie was all that she could see. Bree raised her hand and pressed it against the glass. Allie raised her own and waved, speaking something that lost among the roar of the events taking place outside the carriage. But Bree could guess what she said. She was saying it too.
I’ll fix this,
We’ll be together soon.
And just as the carriage started moving.
I love you.

The sobbing Gem in the corner tossed her arms around Bree, pulling her into a sopping wet hug.

“Off,” muttered Bree, shoving the girl to the side. “And be quiet, I need to think,”

----
The ride to Castle Worth was long and uneventful. The first couple times they stopped, Bree attempted to speak to the Head Reaper, but she was always simply pushed back into her carriage before she could even get close. She soon stopped trying. As the days passed Bree and the girl she shared her carriage with (she never bothered to learn her name) came to an understanding. The girl was to sit there and be seen and not heard and Bree wouldn’t lose her temper at her.

The stop at Castle Worth was...unexpected. Everything that Bree knew about the selection implied that the Gems would meet the drakken here. That, soon after arrival, the girls would be fought over like ...a prized.

It was nice though, to get her own room. After a few days of having no one besides the crying air gem for a constant companion, the isolation was welcomed.

It was also the first time she got to really examine the situation. Clearly, the plan had gone wrong. She went over it again and again, trying to pinpoint the moment it went south, but there were just too many variables. Besides, there was no point in worrying about the past.

And...the last thing she needed to do was lose sleep over it. A foggy morning mind would solve nothing.
----

The clothing that was provided was...comfortable. Far less fine than anything Bree had brought herself, but it was clean. Also, somewhere amongst her dreams, she made the decision to simply be the very best gem among the girls. In theory, that should get her the very best husband. Possibly one with a little pull when it came to the choosing. For now, it was the best and only course of action she could see.

She did what she could to tidy her appearance with the limited supplies.

Most of the rooms were empty by the time Bree entered the hall and the crowd of girls had thinned somewhat as most of them were now crowded in the dining hall.

There were only a few seats left by the time Bree entered the dining hall. Bree took a seat across from an..interesting looking gem. While the girl was very pretty, there was a vague masculine aura about her. Whether it was from her mannerisms or simply the way she held herself. At the very least the girl wasn’t crying. Better yet, there was also a chance that her masculinity would help accentuate Bree own femininity by comparison. Every little thing helped.

“Hi,” said Bree gently, but firmly. “I’m Aubree, Bree if you will. I don’t mean to be a pain, but you haven’t happened to see that drakkan that seemed to be in-charge last night anywhere around this morning?” a throwaway question really, she wasn’t sure what she would do if the drakkan was here, but the main focus was giving this girl a reason to stay near her.

---

---

Rya kept an uneasy eye on the prince’s retreating figure. His large group of drakken guards easily parting their way through the chaos of the lowtown market. Any smaller drakken standing near the guards were unceremoniously shoved out of the way.

A crowd of a different sort had formed a short distance away from Azilon and the prince. It was mostly comprised of a herd of thuggish drakken. The sort that looked irritated that they hadn’t been in a good fight since this morning. One of the largest ones had a gloomy faced gem connected to his wrist via silver chain. More than one of them had a fair spattering of blood on his clothing already.

Luckily for the pair, the pack seemed to lose interest the second the prince wandered off and they vanished into a passing crowd. Clearly the tiny gem and the irritated drakkan was not the fight they were looking for. Although a final passing glance shot an ice spear straight through Rya's stomach.

It was only well after the danger had passed that Rya reached up and removed Azilon’s forgotten hand from her mouth. “When I first came here, there were Gems who thought he was kind because he was prettier than his brother,” her voice keeping the same almost monotonic, dreamy rhythm that happened whenever she felt the need to narrate a situation. A habit she developed around month three of isolation. “And the um...” She raised her hands to the side of her head, mimicking horns for a moment before dropping her hands to her side. “I think they were very wrong. He is an asshole,”

She held the silence for another moment before her face wrinkled in confusion. “Wait...Did I just get married again?” Her voice taking on an entirely different tone. One closer to earth than any she had used since running into Az. She pulled herself out of Azilon’s shadow; looking him up and down as though he was commodity she was debating the purchase of. She opened her mouth but then froze and took a breath, catching whatever words she was about to say, she struggled to reform them.

“You shouldn’t have lied for me...you don’t even want one bride. Or at least not me as a bride,” She bit her lip, her mind quickly jumping around faster than her mouth could keep up.

”And now you are getting a second one? But… I promise I’ll make this right. She could stay with me...the cabin might not be so bad with a friend. O-or I guess you could still sell us, later. I’m sure the prince….the prince wouldn’t notice-” Rya’s voice cut out for another moment as she tried to process all of the new information at hand.

Suddenly all the questions she wanted to ask came rushing out as once She made a few more distressing sounds before she managed to choke one out “Who is Salazar? Is he your... brother?”

---

---

Ehkota had entertained the idea of inviting the Kinner to the castle itself. With his brother off dealing with the gem brides, there would be little risk of being found out by him. But if his childhood had taught him anything, it was that his brother's ears were everywhere.

The Kinner’s chosen cafe was not one that Ehkota had frequented himself. The area itself was one of those hidden spaces that oozed out of Železna Kri. Unremarkable, but pleasant enough.

The Kinner was pointed out by a guard, sipping some sort of lemon drink. A strange juxtaposition to be sure. However, looks weren't everything.

With a gesture of his hand, the closest sitting drakken were swifty removed from the cafe and replaced by Ehkota's personal guard, surrounding the Kinner on all sides.

Ehkota gave the man an analyzing once over, a mocking ghost of a smile sitting boldly on his lips. “Most would have bothered to bow,” said the prince, a hint of challenge in his voice. The guards around his tensing, sense the danger in the room.

“But there is no need for such formalities,” The prince took the seat across from the Kinner. “So, you are the one who brought down the great Krisov Harin. I would have said we were acquaintances, but I doubt he would have recalled me at all,” The story of how the great warlord had fallen was common knowledge if the right people were asked. They type of people the prince made a point to know.

“But enough small talk,” (as though the prince had given Kagan much room to speak as it was). The prince cast another longways glance around the room, making sure that his trusted guard were the only ones close enough to hear.

“I’ll get to the point. It is a matter best said bluntly," Although royal secrets were not often shared with outsiders, this particular Kinner was selected in part, because of the death of Krisov. But more so because this particular Kinner could till be easily misplaced. "The king has not made a public appearance in some time. I think people are starting to notice,"

"The King is and was a great man. Whether you support him or not, only a fool would say otherwise. I need to keep it that way, the king deserves that much. He deserves honor".

The Prince paused another moment.“I want you kill him,”

"It is hot here." Zakroti sighed heavily as he rode along the path up towards the large gates of the manor, the sun beating down on the procession of warriors. It gleamed off of Zakroti's silver-white armour, Ice Crystal gems gleaming in the light. He was flanked on either side, ahead and behind by mounted warriors clad in black armour who were surely feeling the heat even worse than he. The largest among them was just shy of 8', and the shortest 5'11, like Zakroti himself.

Behind this esteemed vanguard marched a column of 80 soldiers clad in chain mail with nasal helmets and long kite shields and behind them 20 non-combatant servants. Their commander and standard bearer marched ahead of him, the standard bearer wearing a Rehwar head in place of his helmet and the Commander wearing a decorative plate cuirass and closed helm. The banner bore the White Wyvern of House Unalim on a party per pale Red-Blue background, with the numerals 3-1 beneath it and above it the words Vivpre Star Krepre

Zakroti looked down towards Miry, one of his arms wrapped around her gently. He smiled and leant in, whispering "Oeiz Aigz, what do you think?" The century old manor was certainly imposing; its tall walls were not made of the white and red stones that the West used for building and was rather of local materials like a coarse limestone or dolomite of sorts, yet it had some of the telltale architectural signs of the West all the same; the walls bore many carvings, and on either side of the gate rose up a tall statue of a Drakken warrior to stand ever vigilant. The gates themselves were adorned with many symbols and carvings and at its centre where the gates met was a circle with a Wyvern carved into it as if it were coiling around the gate. The Wyvern was, naturally, painted white and bore a small red ruby for an eye.

Miry had spent much of the ride in silence, all but gaping around (that was, when she wasn’t writing in her parchment “book of travels” or squinting at the small book of poetry she’d brought for herself) at the wonders they passed. She’d grown comfortable enough in the saddle in the last year that she was no longer desperately clinging onto the reins (or her husband) at every slight bump, and so she took the time in the saddle as an opportune time to work on her mastery of her husband’s language. She still rode with him, of course, as she had for the last year – she liked the contact, and felt somewhat safer than she would have on her own mount – but she was not so dependent on him as she was the previous year that they had made this journey.

As they rode through the city she fanned herself with a hand, her Gemmenite sparkle not being the only thing contributing to the faint sheen of her skin. Though she knew, as compared to the men in full plate armor, she had nothing to be complaining about, the sun’s rays were doing quite a number on her. The pale blue-violet outfit she wore, a simple long sleeved blouse and trousers so wide-legged they gave the appearance of a skirt, was far cooler for certain than the heavy armor that the rest of her party was wearing for certain. Still, she was uncomfortable, and she mumbled something in affirmation to Zakroti’s comment as she adjusted the ivory wyvern brooch that held her blouse’s high collar closed.

As they paused in front of the gates of a (particularly opulent) manor house and her husband’s arm snaked around her, the young woman leaned back into his touch. “It is magnificent, milove, but – is the king not to be displeased that we have brought so many soldiers?” She swayed slightly in his embrace, the world spinning around her and a wave of nausea suddenly overcoming her. This happened quite often nowadays, she bitterly mused, as she quickly brought one hand to her mouth to cover it while attempting to swallow the foul sensation and taking a sharp breath through her nose to steady herself. After a moment, when she was certain she could speak again, she murmured, “What duties will I need to attend? I’ve brought the mending and sewing and you know I don’t mind brushing down the horses, and failing that there’s always my embroidery. I’m certain you’ve important people to socialize with and I don’t ever intend to be in the way.”

"We are not that numerous. A single detachment, as fine soldiers as they are, should hardly worry him. The road is long and hard, I do not trust the wilds or our enemies. Any displeasure at a small band of soldiers taking up board in my manor during my stay should be minimal." Zakroti smiled and brushed Miry's hair back slightly, leaning down to kiss her cheek, whispering the rest of what he had to say into her ear. "I'm hoping to spend most of it with you, of course, aside from a few bits of business... Are you okay?" Zakroti wpapping his arm around her as she swayed to make sure she could not fall off. He carefully dismounted and helped her down to the ground beside him, offering her his hand.

The already present servants - with a few warriors to oversee them - opened up the gate to their arriving lord and the castellan came forth to kneel before the column. He had short cut hair as white as chalk, sunken eyes and a crooked nose as if it had once been broken and hadn't healed properly. His voice was remarkably deep, even for a Drakken; "Oeiz Muth, wre grunda odzi.” (My Duke, You Honour Us.)

"Rise. I trust the rooms are prepared?" Zakroti replied, glancing around the courtyard as the Castellan rose from his knee. Aqueducts carried water to the Manor on either side of the courtyard and from hung planters, filled with plants and flowers. Far from the brightest and most beautiful plants one would ever see, but in this part of Drakka any plant life was a welcome change of scenery.

"Rightly so my Muthseran. I have... More news. Urgent news it seems. The Muthseran sent a letter ahead I am supposed to give you." The Castellan approached Zakroti and handed him an envelope sealed in red wax. Zakroti broke the seal and took the letter from within, unfolding it and scanning his eyes over the cursive writing.

Once he had finished, he placed the letter back in the envelope. He called out for everyone's attention and raised the envelope into the air. He heard several people call out as servants and warriors quickly fell into line alongside the soldiers he had brought so he could properly address them. He linked arms with Miry and led her out before them to make the announcement.

"It is my great honour to inform you that his grace the Muthseran has fathered a child, the third daughter of his life time at the age of 613." Zakroti called out with a beaming smile. The Drakken hollered in approval and a chant of 'Sunna, Sunna!' echoed out through the courtyard. Zakroti raised a hand to silence them and continued "He has elected to name her Silwel. May her days be long and merry."

"Epenas an Jaedi, Sunna an Wel e lalyent!" The assembled warriors and servants responded.

Zak’s comment had made Miry all-over giddy, a faint flush rushing to her cheeks as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "You honor me, milove." she mumbled. As he dismounted, helping her to the ground, she stumbled slightly - that had always been the most awkward part of riding for her, if nothing else because her tiny height made the jump down somewhat more daunting - and caught herself against his side, linking arms and entwining her fingers with his.

As he scanned the letter twice over, his face impassive, her brow furrowed and she stepped closer to him, clearly worried. But that spot of worry soon passed as his face broke into a slight smile, and he guided her by the arm to be standing at his side while he made the announcement to his soldiers.

The grand duke was a father... yet again. She already could not keep count of the number of uncles that her husband had, and the cousins too were an absurdly monumental number. As the words settled over her, a slight pang in her lower abdomen made her press her free hand over it protectively. She leaned against Zak's side, murmuring something about good fortune and grace and dignity for the child, the words of the assembled soldiers washing over her in an incomprehensible fog.

This had set the tone remarkably well for her own confession, she figured. Perhaps she would give it upon going to his bed tonight. But the small voice in her head told her to wait, wait until after the Choosing - surely it would be anticlimactic, to hear it from his own whelp of a bride so soon after hearing it from his grandfather, and at any rate... He was back here. They were back here. Clearly she hadn't satisfied him, not if he was going to claim another-

The little nasty voice reminded her that he was probably going to give her away, trade her for someone else. That maybe the affection he displayed so often was just a ruse for complacency, and he actually had no intention of keeping her. Another wave of nausea - bitter, jealous nausea - rose up in her throat, and with a trembling hand she discreetly called a small globe of water from the aqueducts and wrapped it around her neck and temples (where it clung vaguely shimmering silver), letting the soothing coolness calm her. Nope. Not thinking like that.

She smiled up at Zak, if a little distantly, and fumbled for a subject to distract him with. "This greenery... I've not seen anything quite like it even at home. There must be a massive difference in plants all across Drakka...And is it not hard to get anything to grow here? Your people must be so dedicated to its upkeep."

"Oh massive difference in flora and fauna, climate too..." Zakroti trailed off for a moment as he ran his eyes over the plants again. "It can be hard to keep them growing in the desert parts, but that's all the more reason to do it. Prestige and... Beauty. Even in the harshest of places, there is life, nurture it and in time you can make it peaceful and beautiful. Your people don't really understand it or appreciate it, as much as they say they do."

Zakroti leaned down and kissed her gently, holding her to him as he led her towards the Manor proper, still talking. "Yes, it takes a lot of dedication. But you appreciate it more for it. All the lands of my family and kin are shining examples of this. It cost our people dearly but we succeeded... And the cost itself taught us and built our character. It made us brave, diligent and empowered us."

Zakroti reached the large oaken doors and the servants opened them up for him, letting them step into the entry hall that itself doubled as the Great Hall. A long room running half the length of the building in total, with many tables and chairs on either side of a great grated fireplace in the centre of the mosaic tiled floor. A single long table with two thrones was laid out was at the far end of the room, slightly elevated above the rest. Behind this table was a fresco depicting a large Drakken in shining armour with a flowing red cloak, standing over many bodies after a great battle. In one hand he held a large sword and in the other he held a severed Drakken head. Around him was gathered his army, cheering in victory as one of his attendants brought forth the enemy banner.

Throughout the hall, pillars rose at equal intervals, each pillar elaborately carved so as to have a Wyvern coiled around it, wings clasped close to its body. At the base of each of these pillars, where the Wyverns head rose from the wall, was a font or basin; from the mouth of the Wyvern sprang a steady trickle of water into the basin, which was then slowly drained away into the Manor underworks. At this time, however, only one of these fountains was active, from which a servant occasionally cooled themselves with or drank from.

Other frescoes adorned the walls to the side, commemorating other moments in history or mythology. Each side of the room were a pair of large doors that headed off into the wings of the Manor and at the far end of the room a staircase rose up onto the second level of the hall. Banners hung from this level, dangling over the great hall and swaying lightly in the breeze from the door. Tucked away in the corner by one of these staircases was the doorway into the kitchen, far smaller and more inconspicuous, as was expected of servants’ doors.

The sunlight that poured in through the four large stained glass windows on the front of the building caused beautiful patterns on the floor and pillars.

Certainly, this was a lavish building; It often hosted parties and gatherings at this time of year, particularly when a member of House Unalim had business with another great warlord or his family, and so it had been built to impress and dazzle. The soldiers with him split off and settled down at the tables, hungry from the journey. The head servant headed for the kitchen door immediately, shouting orders.

"Not quite home but it's quite excellent still, don't you think?" Zakroti said as he looked to Miry with a grin.

Miry listened intently, fumbling in the satchel at her hip to produce the parchment notebook and stick of charcoal, flipping the (about half-filled) notebook open to the first blank page and beginning to sketch in the aqueducts and hanging planters, writing down what Zak said about it being a symbol of honor. As he leaned down, she rose up on her tiptoes, returning the kiss lightly, and she put the charcoal away - promising herself to come back to her drawing later - and wrapping her arm around his waist so she could lean against his side as they walked into the manor.

She gasped slightly as she looked around, eyes lighting on the details of the carvings. The amazement at the detail in the Westerlings' architecture had never worn off; every time she entered a new place she was overcome once more with awe. Wordlessly she padded over to one of the fountains that had been turned off, gently running her fingers over the details. "How do your people do these things..." for even the architecture in the Gemmenite capital, while ornate, had clearly visible chisel marks and other imperfections. But these pillars seemed to rise out of the floor seamlessly, and entirely perfectly. "It's absolutely marvelous..."

Shaking herself out of her mesmerized state, she returned to her husband's side, twining her fingers through his, offering him a smile as well, and stretching up on tiptoe to attempt to kiss him. "It's absolutely beautiful. Your family's estates are... simply marvelous. I suppose that is to be expected, when you have so many years to master your crafts, but... it is still so amazing."

In a moment of childlike excitement, she called some water from the basin, guiding it with her free hand. She flicked it through the air in the stained-glass light, causing rainbows to scatter around the room. Vividly she imagined raising a family here, watching them play under the sparkling lights, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings- plus it would be so warm and dry here that children would be less likely to succumb to the seasonal sniffling sick that had always seemed to plague them, even in Gemmenia. "If this city were safer it would be a brilliant place for a family..." she murmured, her hand lightly pressing over her lower abdomen again. Was it swelling already? Or was her mind just playing tricks on her? At most she was two months along - it had been two months since she'd properly bled, though that was no guarantee of much of anything. It seemed a very short time for her body to be making signs of that. She was probably just making it up out of desperation for him to keep her around...

After a moment of this introspective inspection, of course, she realized what she'd said out loud and slightly panicked, hurriedly dropping her hand to her side and pressing her face into her husband's chest. "Sorry, milove. I don't mean anything by it."

She clenched her fist and promised herself she would stop thinking of it, for just three more days. Just until whatever was going to happen at this Choosing would hurry up and happen - and if she was still his bride at the end of it, then she would let him know her suspicion.

Zakroti watched her approach one of the pillars, smiling at her amazement and watching her examine it. He took a few steps towards her and looked over her shoulder to it.

"Our control over earth is greater than yours. An experienced sculptor crafts from the bones of the world, he can run his hand over the surface of stone and engrave words without tools. By the end of his life, he can mold stone as though it were wax." Zakroti murmured to her with a raise of his brow as he leant down to meet Miry's lips quickly. Then he laughed heartily as she drew water from the font and covered the room in rainbows, admiring the light that shimmered through the room.

He drew her closer to him and looked back down to her as she murmured, noticing as she placed her hand on her abdomen then dropped it quickly to her side and pressed up against him. He wrapped his arm around her and placed his hand atop hers, guiding it back to her abdomen "Meant nothing by it...? Are you...?" He asked trailing off a bit and furrow on his brow slightly, feeling his heart flutter slightly and his lips curl up hopefully, in spite of himself.

Miry had seemed to have something on her mind a lot this past week, always seeming to be thinking about something else. She had seemed worried at times, even... And come to think of it, he had awoken just a few days ago to find her missing from his bed, having complained about being sick to the apothecary. He had supposed she had eaten something that disagreed with her the night before but in hindsight...

She froze as he took her hand again, a flush washing over her face. She pressed her face into his side for a long moment before mumbling, "..I t-think? I don't... know?" Emotion welled up in her, and she flung her free arm around him and pulled herself tightly against him, shaking sobs and tears being pulled from her body as she clung to his side. "I'm s-sorry... I was sc-cared and I- didn't..."

She tried to steady herself, clinging to him and taking shaky deep breaths to calm herself down. Annoyingly, she'd lost control of her cooling necklace of water, and it had soaked into her shirt and hair, both of which now clung annoyingly around her face and neck and chest. She sniffled slightly, shaking her head a bit. "Y-you're not mad at me, are you? For n-not... telling you? I didn't want you to think, not - y'know, not.. with us being h-here. And. You- getting another girl. And- that. I didn't want you to t-think it was me just- wanting attention."

Zakroti's face broke into a large grin and he held still, processing what had been said. She was... He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. He felt giddy inside, his heart fluttering--a slight sense of trepidation at the thought of being a father, true, but it was covered by his elation. He wasn't entirely sure what to say or how to respond, and so his first words had several false starts

"I- You're-how far along is- Mad at you? How could I be mad at you! Thus is wonderful news!" He managed with a beaming smile, holding her into his embrace and kissing her again. He opened his mouth to speak but then quickly closed it, shaking his head slightly and laughing once more before finally adding "I could never think that of you."

He noticed the water splashed around her shirt and hair, and knelt down so that he was level with her; he brushed her hair out the way and missed her forehead lovingly, looking into her eyes. He placed his hand against her chest and carefully heated her shirt to help her dry off as he held her.

"This other girl we'll be getting, don't worry about her. It's not going to take my attention away from you in the slightest, oeiz aigz." He said with a reassuring smile, moving his hand up from her shirt to her hair and heating that slightly instead now.

Now that the tears had come once, they came again quickly. Miry flung her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him, her whole body shaking with her quiet tears of happiness- and slight lingering terror. She did her best to respond to his comments as they came, resulting in an awkward moment of them both babbling over each other. "Two moons, I think- I..." at that point she met his lips again, pressing up tightly against his body and kissing him once more. "I'm sorry." she again mumbled.

As he kissed her forehead and started gently warming her tunic, she blushed and pressed up close against him, wrapping her arms tighter around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "You know I wouldn't mind if you'd rather share her bed. I know... I know I'm not much to look at, or to hold, or to .. do things with." Her breath caught in her throat at that thought but she shook her head slightly to dispel it, instead snuggling closer to him, so that her mouth was by his ear so she could whisper – "Also, I'm not letting go. If ya want to go anywhere you gotta take me with you." A slight giggle escaped her then, a big contrast from her shaky tears from just a bit earlier. "...I'm going to be a mother. The mother of your child. That's... terrifying. And wonderful. But terrifying... I'm really not making sense, am I? I'm sorry my mind is- going faster than a racehorse. Just. I'm." she trailed off uncertainly, then shook her head slightly to dispel such thoughts, trying to string coherency back into her head. "In whatever case. I'd imagine there's social obligations you've got to attend today? Everyone in the city will be here for the choosing, of course, it'll be high time for a festival or.. something, is it not?"

Zakroti kissed her again and listened to her talk, before shaking his head something fierce "No, Miry, I would far rather share your bed than the bed of all the women of Gemmenia." He said as he ran his hand back down from her hair and wrapped it around her, holding her close to him. He laughed a little and continued "I don't want you to let go. And I understand, it is somewhat frightening... But more wonderful, I think. You and I and a little baby; Who would have thought it?" Certainly he would not have thought, not a year ago. When he had came to the spine last, he had expected his brides to be little more than annoyances whom, if he was able to get pregnant, would provide more even littler annoyances. And yet it did not seem so, and rather had found himself elated to have Miry with him. Things had continued much as they had before, that much was true, but rather than being annoying she was instead a welcome breath of air between arduous duties and discussions.

"Yes, we'll have to attend some festivities later. For now, let's rest and I'll fill you in on them. The servants will be bringing food soon and I am sure you're hungry and tired from the journey." Zakroti took her hand gently and led her across the room to the head table, sitting himself down upon one of the two thrones and inviting her to sit beside him, never letting go of her hand as he smiled up at her. Then he took a couple of long sniffs of the air and grinned "They haven't told me what we're having. I suspect boiled Reabak from the smell, but I can't be sure if that is for now or later. There's also a Carcasarus and- oh I think there might be a boar too- cooking in there, but those two are certainly for the feast later. I can't recall, have you tried boiled Reabak yet?"

Miry blushed, seemingly consoled by the answer, and happily followed Zakroti to the head table. As she settled into the seat beside him (needing to comically scoot herself into the seat, and looking more like a doll than an actual person in the drakken-shaped furniture) and heard him babble about the food, she grinned as well. "I think we may have had it at a feast last year... for your grandfather's birthday, or something? I don't remember, but I'm certain it will be delicious." She too sniffed the air, trying to discern the spices that were being cooked with.

"Do you know if there's any.. kiondu fruits here?" She asked, altogether too cheerily. They were a hardy vine fruit that was about the size of her own people's oranges, with a thick and bitter rind and segmented, very deep purple pulp, and were exceptionally juicy, with a sweet and slightly spicy flavor. "I tried one at the market a few weeks ago and really liked it, the merchant said he'd got them from someone just outside the capital. Do they grow here, or..?"

"Ah yes I think you're right. I do like boiled Reabak, it has a lovely taste. Although the aftertaste can be a bit strong on its own. Hm. I think Kiondu does grow here yes, I do hope they'll serve some. Adding a bit of spice and sweetness will help with he aftertaste." Zakroti said with a grin. He'd have some more Kiondu bought for the stores of Mu'Jupostat then. Perhaps he'd see if one of the plants could be added to the gardens of Mu'Jupostat, it would be far from the first time a plant from another part of Drakka had been transplanted there.

A servant came over from serving the soldiers with a pitcher and poured liquid into his goblet. When she moved to pour it into Miry's, Zak reached out to stop her. "She is with child. Fetch her water from the front instead." The servant nodded and took the goblet, scurrying away towards the fountain to fill it.

Zak listed his goblet and examined it for a moment, taking a sip of it and placing it back down onto the table with a nod. "Ah. It's fermented Wildfire pod sap. It's got a very sweet and flavourful taste, but it's also strong."

The servant hurried back over and placed Miry's now water filled goblet onto the table with her, taking the pitcher back from the table and bowing away again.

And just a few minutes later, several other servants dashed out of the kitchen, dishes and platters in hand and began to lay the food out on the tables; bread and fruits as well as the dishes of boiled Reabak. The hungry soldiers set into it immediately and the head servant brought two dishes over to Miry and Zak

"The best dishes, my lord and lady. Boiled Reabak marinated in sweet wood sap, then served with diced fae stool." The servant announced as he placed the dishes down before them and bowed away. Another servant brought a small tray with some sliced bread on it to the table and a third brought over some Kiondu fruit. Zak took his knife and fork and cut into the slice of Reabak meat, placing it into his mouth and chewing it.

"It's rather fresh too." Zak commented after swallowing, smiling and cutting into it again. He spent breakfast explaining the various festivities of the coming days to her, pausing occasionally to answer questions - and to become lost in his head. For though he tried to think on to the days ahead to explain social events such as the fights in the dueling pits to her, he found his thoughts wandering away from such mundane topics and always coming back to Miry and their unborn child.

Miry had always been uneasy being waited upon - even a year of living sort of as a lady hadn't been able to break her of the itch that she should be on her feet being one of the many bustling around. She sat on her hands, to prevent herself from trying to reach out and help. Upon Zak's comment, her face flushed and she let out a small squeaking sound. "You know I could have fetched it myself." she mumbled to him. But she settled back in the chair after a moment, taking one of the tasty fruits and cutting it in half, the purple juice pooling on her plate. She scooped one of the segments of it into her mouth, relishing in the burst of flavor as she chewed it and happily listened to Zak's talking. Periodically she'd interject with a comment about some influential family or another - someone whose dynasty she'd read of in history books - but for the most part she was happy to hear him chattering.

Zak was really preoccupied - likely by the same thing that Miry herself was distracted by. Her free hand settled over her abdomen as she nibbled on the fruit (as delicious as the meal was, her stomach was a little bit uneasy and she did not trust herself to eat a whole plateful) and she let herself daydream about the future. Her daydreams were slightly soured by the lingering fear of... being rejected, the terror of having a child (the rumors she'd heard in the courts in Gemmenia, about few brides ever surviving childbirth) - but overall she was entirely content to imagine their future together.

For a small village, easily a half a day’s ride from any major town, the day had been like it always was. The sun had set the night before, returning bright and early to share its warmth with the countryside. A cool breeze rustled through the tall grass, carrying the songs of many birds across the land with it. White, fluffy clouds rode the currents high up in the air, rolling lazily above the rest of the world, providing moments of shady relief from the sun’s beams.

A young air Gem by the name of Sorrin had awoken super early, setting to her few chores with a spring in her step. If asked, she would have stated that she simply wanted to make the day easier for her aunt, who was starting to age up a bit. While such a statement would have been true, Sorrin just didn’t want to see such a lovely day wasted inside. She tried her best to tend to as many of her daily tasks as she could think of, but her desire to go out and play eventually got the best of her.

With a giddy laugh and skipping stride, Sorrin left a brief note for her aunt to read when she woke up before setting out the door. The girl didn’t bother with shoes on this venture, after all she wasn’t interested in nearing any of the rough roads. The meadow she wanted to spend her day in was filled with the softest grass she had ever experienced in her whole life. It was how she imagined running atop the clouds might feel like. Bright colors dotted the landscape as flowers of all different kinds painted a beautiful picture-esque dreamland. Such was a normal day for the young girl; peaceful and happy.

Few could have predicted just how quickly such normality would change. The village itself wasn’t known for its particularly beautiful women. In fact, the majority of its population were actually much older in years. Most of them had moved away from the bigger cities in order to live out the rest of their years in comfort. Sorrin’s aunt had done the same when she took in the young sprite so that she could have the support system necessary to deal with such a broken child. The whole village had played some part in her recovery, which is why she tried so very hard to make each and every one of them smile. But somehow, they had lost sight of the reality of their world.

While they were not considered desirable for reaping purposes, not one had thought about the possibility of the Drakkan showing up on their doorstep anyway. Apparently, the town closest to their small wonderland had been approved for the Reaping but had not produced enough to meet whatever twisted quota these monsters operated under. Knowing of a few smaller groupings throughout the land, the drakkan Reapers had decided they would at least take a gander on their way back through. Much to their delight and, quite frankly, surprise, the men spotted the youth frolicking about in the meadow on her own.

Of the group of three, only one was sent after her, riding horseback so that she could not flee into hiding. He quickly snagged the girl by the wrist and pulled up until little Sorrin was standing on her tiptoes.

“Ouch, let go! You’re hurting me.” She whimpered, looking up with teary eyes. Neither her words nor expression were going to change a thing as the man looked her up and down. Everything seemed to check out in his eyes as he maintained his grip on the youngling.

“Quit squirming, I haven’t got all day. How old are you? He barked, his eyes all but challenging the Gem girl to lie to him. Not that she would have, she was raised to be honest. But she couldn’t quite understand why he was asking her such a question.

“I-I’m 18 this year. Turned a few months back, what’s going on?” Sorrin asked, hoping to gather some kind of clarity as to why her day in the meadow was being so rudely interrupted. It wasn’t until then that she noticed several people off in the distance, watching with covered mouths and concerned expressions. The only time she ever saw those looks were when they told stories from long ago. The days when they feared for their lives, the days when they were considered in their prime, the days where any time a man of unspeakable terror could come and carry them away without question.

Slowly her eyes turned back to the man in fear. His grin was something of nightmares, his grip changing into something far more possessive than it had been when he stopped her. As if she weighed absolutely nothing, Sorrin was yanked into the air and settled onto the horse in front of the beastly man.

“Make this easy for the both of us and don’t put up a fight. You’ll need your strength later on.” The man laughed at his own personal joke, pushing the horse in the direction of the houses. He had her point out her own so that she could gather a few personal belongings and say her goodbyes. Clearly the moment broke her aunt’s heart, but Sorrin couldn’t bear to see her cry. She was a good girl, and she was going to act as one for as long as she could. Maintaining her brave face, Sorrin gave her brightest smile to each and every Gem that lay eyes on her. They had to think she would be okay, otherwise they would be sad, and Sorrin couldn’t stand sadness.

Within the hour she was returned to a much larger grouping of people or both Gemmenite and Drakkan origin. They tossed her into the back of a wagon with the rest of their stock and continued on their way toward the great barrier between realms; The Spine. Sorrin would know home no longer, though what was to come, she could only imagine.

~~~

The journey had been rough and a lot colder than Sorrin had ever been in her life. She, along with more than a few other girls, huddled together to keep warm. It was comforting being close to so many others, it helped ease the anxiety of not knowing what was to come. But all too soon, even that came to an end as they reached their destination. The setting sun cast terrifying shadows that caused Sorrin to jump at nearly every turn.

Their welcome was harsh, and more of a warning than a welcome. Sorrin found herself unable to take her eyes off of the man giving the speech, fear rooting her to the spot even after he had finished speaking. It took the guards corralling the girls onward for her to finally move, getting tossed into a small room to spend the remainder of the night alone. There was no way she was going to get any sleep in such a room, it was too small and there was nothing in the way of warmth. Turning around, she slammed her fists against the solid door as it was closed in her face.

“Please let me out of here! I don’t like small spaces, at least open the door. Please!” She cried out, banging as if the door would give up and let her out. It didn’t. All she received in response was a stronger thud back, and barking orders to shut up or face the consequences. Morning couldn’t come fast enough.

~~~

At some point Sorrin must have passed out, finding herself unceremoniously awoken by loud banging and the face of a complete stranger. She was instructed to get dressed and gather in the dining hall for what she assumed would be breakfast. The clothes left for her were simple, but not entirely uncomfortable. She was used to wearing whatever was available, and the material was far warmer than what she brought.

Leaving her dirty cloth on the ground of her room, Sorrin quickly exited the space, thankful to be allowed out now. She took her time wandering toward the dining hall, finding herself among a few others who had continuously found themselves turned around. Each time though she corrected course as asked, not wanting to find out what happened if she didn’t.

Eventually she did make it to the dining hall where loads and loads of food had been left out for their consumption. Many she did not recognize, however that had never stopped the girl before. She would follow her nose on this one.

Plopping down in a chair, Sorrin quickly filled her plate and began stuffing her face with anything she could get her hands on. Some of the dishes were tasty, others not so much, but in her excitement she forgot which ones were which and thus had to fill her plate to figuring it out once again. She was slow to notice the girl sitting somewhat opposite her at the table, but once she did, she found herself unable to look away.

Her pale complexion mirrored Sorrin’s own, but it was her hair that really caught the young one’s attention. She found herself slightly envious of such a vibrant color, quickly peeking at her own plain locks before looking back. Figuring she shouldn’t forget her manners, Sorrin finished swallowing the large lump of food she had stuffed her mouth with and smiled broadly.

“I’m Sorrin, what’s your name?” She called across the table to the girl, hoping she would realize who had spoken… After all, it looked like she might have been lost in thought.

“Isn’t the food tasty?”

Kyrena sad frightfully in the wagon that carried her up the mountains. This place was nothing like Mount Serenity, her home. She was so cold that she huddled up in her cloak with Elly, her Sne. The little creature looked just as afraid as her. For most the journey she remained silent. The Gem didn’t dare to utter a word to any of her Drakkan captors the whole way on.

Now in the mountains, the very air felt wrong. Back home the wind was soothing and nice. One could dance in it, with it! But here the wind wanted to cut and hurt you. It was vicious and hostile. Maybe that was why the Drakkan all acted like they did? She kept those thoughts to herself though. There was little use in talking to anyone here. Soon they would be separated again. Then again, these were the last few Gems she’d probably see in a long time. Maybe forever.

Eventually, they reached Shadow Worth. One by one they were led off the carriages. Then a Drakkan addressed them. Calling them weak, and themselves kind. Then followed by their duties. Kyrena swallowed hard. The very idea that she would bare such a monster felt painful. Instinctively she reached for her stomach with her hand as finally, tears began to well up. A shiver traveled up her spine. She tried to bite down on her teeth and fight the tears. Still, one escaped. With it, Kyrena felt herself collapse. She didn’t let another tear go. Yet inside she felt hollow. Like everything she once was, was just ripped out of her and replaced with a bottomless void of fear. Eventually, they were led to their chambers. The room was rather bare and small. With only a bed, a basin of water, a fireplace, and a simple rug. Still, she jumped on her bed and cried her eyes dry on the pillow. It all came in waves. The pain, the fear, the regret. Why was she so stupid as to volunteer!? But as she rubbed away the red lines on her cheeks, she realized why. She could not bear another of her friends to vanish. Her Sne had crawled to a far corner of her room, trying to some rest. It appeared to know very well tomorrow would still be a tough day. But Kyrena couldn’t sleep. She laid there, for what felt like hours. Though eventually she just opened the window and let the night’s wind in. The bars would make sure she couldn’t escape one way or another. But Kyrena did not plan on escaping. At least not in a way the Drakkan would understand.

Instead of crying or sleeping, she began to move. First to feel the wind blow into her room. It was still stingy and hurtful. But Kyrena, slowly, carefully, let her own essence flow in it. She moved with the wind. Making small circles in her room, stepping one way then another. Going with the flow until she fully caught it. Then she changed it. Making turns left instead of right. Soon she and the wind moved in harmony and she began to dance. Moving gracefully through the room. Going in circles and spins. Letting her white dress flutter in the wind. The wind was now billowing snowflakes in as well. They shone a beautiful, silver-white in the pale light of the moon. Yet when the yellow flames of the fireplace touched them, they turned into golden glitter. Kyrena let the wind and snow blow all around her, guiding her through the room. Every breeze told her where to go. The small room was made to confine her. But instead, it freed her. There was no more up, no more down as she twisted through her room. She pushed herself off the wall and jumped through the glittering air. Embracing the split second of weightlessness before gravity pulled her back down. Every movement was made in harmony with the previous one. Yet it was all as unpredictable as the wind itself. There was no more down, no up, left or right as she jumped and spun through the free air. This was her escape. This was how she would flee. At least for now. Gusts of air made her go a little higher, spin a little faster. A delicate touch here, a soft breeze there. All culminating in a beautifully enchanting dance. But things were different now.

Even though she was in harmony with the air, her mind influenced that balance. It directed her moves towards a crescendo. She jumped higher and dropped lower. Reaching for something she would never have again, only to drop into her captivity again and again. Until the air, unexpectedly, blew in discord with her movement. She lost her balance in a jump and fell. She tumbled for what felt like minutes, though it was over in a second. She was once again chained to the rough floor below her. Slowly she sat up, feeling the pain her now exhausted body suffered. In a rush the winds and glistering particles escaped her room, shutting the window behind them. There she was, almost entirely alone again. In the corner, her little Sne pet was still sleeping. Too exhausted by the long journey behind her. “Good night, Elly.” Kyrena said at last before she herself crawled into bed. The Air Gem felt more hurt by the betrayal of her dance than the fall she suffered.

The next day she didn’t even feel like she had fallen. But the emptiness remained. After the Drakkan demanded her out of bed, she crawled to the basin with water and tried to freshen up. At least if it made her skin feel clean. It was a small blessing. After that, she realized she still wore her white dress from yesterday. Well, it would have to do for now. She wasn’t really in the presence. She didn’t feel awake. Everything felt more like it was all a dream. The hallway she wandered wasn't real. The large room had to be fake. The apple she grabbed had to come from her imagination. Even the heat she felt from one of the fireplaces had to be part of a memory. But as she sat down, she realized it was all real. Just a different kind of real. A greyer one.

Unlike most of their journey, the past few days of travelling had been quite relaxing. While more than half of their path had been one of constant alertness on the way through the treacherous forest lying north of the capital, the very last stretch of it was spent in the vicinity of the river enveloping the principal city as if in an embrace and therefore comparatively uncomplicated. Ineraz and the eight Drakken accompanying him from fort Terva were sitting near the bank of one such river fork, eating their first meal of the day after taking a luxurious dip in the marvelously cool river water. The numerous hounds they had taken with them – they were both a good deterrent to the other forest beasts and reliable hunting companions – were also either swimming happily, tearing into their own fare or chasing each other playfully. Looking at the beasts, one might not come to the conclusion that they were also ferocious attack creatures, but Ineraz knew better; he had trained several himself.

As the pre-dawn begun shifting into proper morning, the Evrenarth heir stood up from where he had been sitting on the back of one of the wagons – they had three, one that had stored the supplies necessary for their journey, and the other two carrying the wares they intended to sell in the capital, where they would fetch a higher price – and called all the canines to attention with a sharp whistle. Without exception, they came running, the still drenched ones thankfully shaking off at a safe distance. Most stopped a few feet away, awaiting patiently, but the more eager – and younger – ones crowded around his feet, unintentionally doing their best to trip him. Before they managed what would be an impressive feat, but also embarrassing for Ineraz, he snapped his fingers and the pups obediently backed off. With a few hand gestures and short verbal commands, he sent the youngest and oldest ones into one of the wagons and organized the rest in a protective formation around the vehicles. He waved the other Drakken closer to him and reiterated his instructions for the capital.

“As you already know,” he began, coolly “our priority in Železna Kri is business. You know the prices you should aim for as well as I do. We need most of the money for re-supplying and other expenses back home. Feel free to have some fun, but if I find that you have spent too much – and I will find out – it will be your hides on the line,” Ineraz was quite literal about his last line. Although knowing the Drakken under his command, it would serve more as a reminder rather than an actual threat.

Their answer was prompt and to the point, a chorus of “Yes, sir!” Ineraz gave a single nod, after which the Drakken went to the wagons in threes and urged the freshly rested draft animals to get going. When they finally arrived at Železna Kri, it was early afternoon. The guards at the entrance looked in disapproval at the pack of hounds flanking them, but gave no other sign of protest. Even though he carried himself confidently, the way Ineraz appeared may have lead others to believe that he was some sort of an elite guard for what was otherwise obviously a merchant’s entourage – the fact that he was one of the heirs of a noble family would in most cases become apparent only when he chose to reveal his last name.

Upon entering the city, each trio of Drakken took their wagon in a different direction. Ineraz led the one with those hounds that he brought here for sale. The pups mostly went to middle- and high-class individuals who desired a well-bred vicious pet loyal to them. Ineraz felt vaguely sorry for the fine beasts that were to be left in care of masters who would unlikely use them to their full potential, but such was life. The elderly hounds he took to the fighting pits; these beasts were no longer useful for hunting, but Ineraz was certain their fierceness would still prove an interesting match in close quarter combat.

One of the pit overseers gleefully took the animals off his hands. “A lovely addition to the entertainment, sir,” the Drakkan chuckled cheerfully. “I should enjoy having some of the other creatures rumoured to be found in your forest for our collection, but as a fellow connoisseur, I do understand your reluctance to hand over the rarer specimens,” he nodded knowingly.

Ineraz said nothing of the fact that the northern forest did not belong to him, and made no sign of what exactly he thought of the other male’s expertise. Having just stored the payment he had been owed, Ineraz mimicked the other’s haughtiness, nodded curtly and left him a last tip “I suggest at least pairing them up for further entertainment.” Ineraz noted his faint derision went completely above his customer’s head and turning sharply on his heel, left. His two subordinates, who were in charge of the now empty wagon, followed.

Ineraz was but a few paces away from the fighting pits when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. A few quick flicks of his eyes soon revealed to him the source and Ineraz’s grimaced in slight displeasure.

“Little brother! What a happy coincidence,” the dark-grey skinned Drakkan swaggered closer to him, a pleased smirk on his face. He was two inches shorter, but no less intimidating for it. He wore his white hair in a short ponytail, his horns curling horizontally towards the back of his head. His apparel was much more fitting for a noble heir, and although it was not outwardly apparent whether he carried his own weapons, Ineraz knew him to be armed.

“Kasycra,” the younger male greeted him and his brother’s eyes lit up, their sharp yellowness a contrast to Ineraz’s own glacier blue ones. Ineraz knew this meeting was in no way accidental and his skepticism must have shown on his face, for Kasycra’s lips twitched into a grin for a short second, then returned to a smaller, neutral smile.

“Don’t tell me you intended to spend your time here in one of the accommodations provided for the lessers,” Kasycra raised an inquiring eyebrow, but his tone indicated the statement was meant to be something between mild reproof and disappointed accusation rather than a question.

“Is our lord father here, then?” Ineraz asked, trying to sound merely curious but imagined that Kasycra guessed at his underlying apprehension.

“Not yet,” his sibling replied with a slight tilt of his head “but he may come in the following days. He did give me access to the estate, however,” he was obviously proud of that fact and had the right to be so. Na’ir usually preferred to be present himself when hosting any of his children in the capital.

“If you decide to stay with me, I wouldn’t mind giving some space to the rest of your company,” he glanced at the still silent pair of Drakken holding the leashes of the animals connected to the wagon. “Free of charge, of course,” he gave Ineraz a winning smile, as if he were not plotting anything at all.

“Very well,” Ineraz answered sourly, making no attempts to hide the dislike he felt towards his brother’s seemingly natural charm. How he managed such an appeal despite his smugness was beyond Ineraz. Must be from our father. The younger brother turned to his subordinates and said, “Follow us to the estate, leave the wagon there, find the others and tell them where to find me.” Then he turned back to his second oldest brother.

“Shall we?” Kasycra asked rhetorically, already making his way to the Evrenarth estate. With a silent sigh, Ineraz followed, catching up so he walked to the side of his brother rather than behind him. Kasycra smiled knowingly, but kept silent for the rest of the way.

Politics, Ineraz thought in distaste, but was now resigned to it.

Kagan Galegar

_{Kinner of The High Chruch of Krenta
Interacting with: Ehkota of the Royal Family of Drakka @Ellion}

Kagan remained deathly silent as Ehkota spoke, face impassive and moving only enough to take occasional sips of his tea. He payed little attention the warriors flanking him, it was a childish tactic and he had no doubt the Prince knew it. "Probably done so he need not waste his time on cowards..." He thinks dully, only giving a polite nod as he was congratulated on his work with Krisov. Correcting him on the nature of the encounter would hardly be productive.

He readied himself for a small argument as the prince finally deigned it time to get down to brass tax, expecting a denial of the tithe owed to him (and by extension, the church). It would be pointless, he knew that already. It would shame the death of Krisov, but if the royal family refused to allow the transfer of a bride, there was little he could do than bring it to the priest of the local temple to lodge a complaint. Ehkota's request, however, was certainly not what he was expecting. Kagan nearly chokes on his tea, setting the cup down before clearing his throat with a brief cough.

"You will have to excuse that mi'lord." He says, readjusting himself as a more friendly air came about him. "I was expecting a wholly different conversation with you. I apologize." He'd known of the kings...condition. Not in detail, he would wager few outside of the palace would. But to be asked by name for the act was little more than a mere fantasy before now.

He takes a small breath, calming his eagerness. "While I would gladly accept your offer Sire, there are a few things I need to make sure have been taken into consideration before we move on, as a matter of formality." He says slowly, leaning forward in his chair as he thought. "First and foremost I would like you to consider a more veteran Kinner for the task, if it would please you. While I was successful in bring peace to Warlord Harin, it was my first act as a full member of my order. Given the gravity of the situation, I do not wish to cause you or your family more suffering due to my inexperience."

Kagan did not particularly enjoy the idea of losing this tithe to another Kinner, inexperience be damned. But his ego was secondary to his duty, and he would be damned before he let himself forget that. "Secondly is the matter of the tithe which would be owed after the fact. To be brief, considering the prosperity your family has brought to yourselves and our people, it is...considerable." Kagan takes another sip of his tea, steeling himself for what he had to say next and the possible outburst to follow.

"Its value beyond what would be fair to ask. And given that your brother is set to inherit, the responsibility of its payment would fall to him and him alone. To that end, before anything can be done, I will need to negotiate an acceptable amount with him and an elder member of the church." Kagan silence himself, gazed fixed tightly on the Prince as he attempted to calm his nerves. One would have to be blind not to see there was little love between the two, and Kagan would hardly blame Ehkota for that fact.

There was a part of him that wished to provide the service pro bono, but he silence the thought as soon as it arrived. To do so would be little better than regicide, and he would move mountains before letting his king be shamed in such a way."...With that said..." He begins, despite his better judgement. "You are to be commended for your loyalty to your father for bringing this forward. It is rare that one of my order is approached by someone our age. I am deeply pleased to see our peoples finest house has wisdom and strength in equal measure." He says, tone flat but warm. Kagan Galegar did not deal in flattery, he had not the tongue for it and now was no exception. Still, it was only right to give the young prince something to ease his mind.

Strange, this is only the second town we've passed through so far.

To Kuki's surprise, there weren't many towns on the way to Shadow Worth. Then again, maybe the drakkan was purposely avoiding the towns. Kuki wasn't paying much attention to the surroundings. She was busy trying to calm down the other gems in the carriage with her, and not get injured because every other second the carriage's wheels would hit a rock or fall into a rut in the road. When she wasn't talking to the other gems, she spent her time reading or just staring out at the clouds. The drakkan didn't talk to the gems much, only to tell them to be quiet if they were loud. As they got close to Drakka, Kuki noticed that the clouds started to get heavier and that a strong wind was blowing. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, as she had no blanket.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few days, they arrived in Shadow Worth. Kuki looked up as a drakkan opened the door to the carriage and pulled the gems out. "Hey, watch it! Do you know how long it'll take me to fix my hair after all that?" The drakkan laughed and said nothing, he just continued to push them into a giant building and into a large hall. There were more gems here and all around the room were drakkan guards, probably to make sure no gems tried to run and make a break for it. In the middle was an important-looking drakkan giving a speech.

Kuki barley made it through without crying her eyes out. There were tears in her eyes but she quickly wiped them away and looked around. Most of the gems were crying or looked scared, but some of them looked impassive, as if this wasn't a big deal. Kuki looked at them in amazement and wondered How? How can they be so calm at a time like this? We just had our lives basically taken from us and they look like they don't care!

A drakkan eventually grabbed Kuki and led her to a room. He threw her in and locked the door. She sat on the floor and started to cry. She didn't know what else to do. She barely got any sleep and the next thing she knew there was pounding on the door and the same drakkan from last night appeared. He dragged her down a different hallway into a giant dining room. On the table were many platters, some dishes looking similar and others not so much. She quietly grabbed what she guessed was a fruit and started to nibble on it.

[Adorabella]

_{Bride of Unknown @"character player" and Sister Bride of Unknown @"character player"
Interacting with: Sorrin @WeepingLiberty}

One of the Gems, a pretty blonde, sat down across from her and promptly began to shovel food into her mouth. ‘Must be starving,’ she thought, amused by how quickly the girl could demolish and then refill a plate. Nothing stood a chance against her. Adorabella did not spend much time watching the girl across from her eat. She watched many young women come in and start to fill the tables. Some seemed to know each other already and huddled close. Others appeared to be so overwhelmed in their upheaval that they sat alone and silent. Adorabella supposed she had been one of those.

“I’m Sorrin, what’s your name?” This snapped her attention back to the young woman. She had a huge grin on her face. It was an honest, open smile. She looked sweet, someone she might be able to trust. Adorabella enjoyed that she didn’t seem too horribly disturbed by all of this. She was even trying out some of the more exotic dishes that Adorabella could not even bring herself to eat. The only thing that gave away any discomfort in this girl’s face was the redness around her eyes – presumably from crying. Adorabella was sure she had a similar red ringed look. “Isn’t the food tasty?”

She realized she had been merely watching Sorrin and had not yet responded. Her thick lips spread into a warm, small smile as she returned Sorrin’s grin. “My name is Adorabella. Very lovely to meet you,” she said rather formally. She inclined her head in a sort of bow and then extended her hand to shake. “I agree, much of our fare is delicious. Some of it should probably go into the fire behind me,” she joked.

“What part of Gemmenia are you from?” she inquired, shifting into a more open and comfortable position. She wished to be friendly with Sorrin, a friend in these times would be worth more than gold. “I’m from a small village in the south. I’m not really used to all this cold. I sincerely hope whoever my husband will be will keep his home warm.” She rubbed her upper arms and shivered somewhat dramatically to get her point across.

Arden Gaothaire

Interacting with: Bree @Ellion

The room continued to fill, though the trickle of Gemmenites entering the dining hall was beginning to slow; everyone was almost gathered. Arden curiously wondered what would come next, there was no reason to gather all of them in the same place at the same time simply for to enjoy breakfast together while everyone came to terms with their grimacing fate. The Air Gem was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t realize a woman had approached her and had taken a seat in front of her. A faint expression of embarrassment appeared on Arden’s face but it was quickly replaced with her calm and collected one.

"Pardon me, I was a little lost in thought there." Arden admitted with a playful undertone. She looked at the woman sitting in front of her, astonished at her beauty. It was clear as to why she was chosen for the Reaping. It made her question why herself was chosen, she hadn’t come to terms with the fact that she was freely living as a woman now. It was still odd for her not to wake up everyday and wrap her breasts or cut her hair regularly to keep it short. The older Gemmenite women that cared for her often described her as a hidden beauty, but it was something she still didn’t see in herself. Arden returned the sweet roll from her hand to her plate and drew her finger and thumb to her mouth, sucking the food off of them one after the other in an attempt to draw attention away from the realization that she had been staring at the girl for a fraction of time too long.

"Bree, you said. How do you do. My name is Arden. Please, you are not being a pain, rather a pleasure." Arden smiled, her cool grey eyes meeting with Bree’s. "Ahh, the Drakkan that delivered that poor speech? No, I haven’t seen him. I imagine we were all gathered in the same place this morning for more than just breakfast though and I bet he will be making yet another grand entrance."

Sarcasm kissed her tone of voice when speaking about the speech-making Drakkan’s entrance. Although she made fun of it, she enjoyed knowing who was in charge. Arden grew up being taught the tongue of diplomacy and benefited from a fine education, a skill set she planned on abusing in her new life should she be paired with a Drakkan with political pull. What she was most curious about though was why was this particular gem sitting and speaking with her and why was she asking about the speech-making Drakkan. Did Bree have a plan of her own, or was she just being friendly? Regardless, Arden knew very well that allies were important and necessary for survival. She knew it was too soon to be frank with the woman and fought the urge to simply negotiate a partnership, insinuating that Bree was speaking to her for a reason. Conversation would have to suffice until a proper opportunity arose.

"I must ask, where does a beauty such as yourself come from? I was born in a city outside of Priseil Aldentine called Makani, have you heard of it?" She asked with confidence, not faltering at the flattery she used. Flattery was another skill that she possessed, an art she learned from years of pretending to be a man. An art she mastered, to be more precise. Arden understood what was too much and what was just the right amount. She knew when to use it, how to use it, and was confident in using it, which sold her words more often than not. Though there was a piece of her that was not flattering the woman just for the sake of gaining something, Arden was being truthful. Bree was beautiful.

The journey from Kereg-Kor to the Capital of Drakka was a long and dangerous one. The land of Drakka was meant for many beings. The hostile fauna and flora waited for any chance to tear something up. Even a Drakkan. Sometimes, they didn’t even wait and just charged headlong into a caravan. This had happened to Keregar, but unfortunately for the beast, he ran straight towards Drakka’s fiercest hunters. Soon it was chained to the ground, with a smiling Keregar over him. It whimpered and hissed, but the warlord looming over it did not show fear. Instead of the sweet release in Krenta’s arms, Keregar decided that it was big enough and put in the large, iron cage on the caravan. A gift he called it all along the way. Though none of his three sons, his three youngest, accompanying him knew for who. When the group approached the great gates, the beast began to trash and growl. Agitated by the various smells, many loud voices, and the large looming shadow. It had trashed before, but now it had a certain desperation to it. Keregar stopped right before the gates, prompting everyone else to stop as well. Slowly he turned his gaze back to the cage. He could feel the beasts rage and he would not have it.

He turned around, completely disregarding the Drakkan guard at the gates, as he marched up towards the beast. He took one of his son’s large warhammer. A massive clump of unadorned metal that only a Drakkan of respectable size could swing. But as Keregar approached the cage, he lifted it over his head with no problem. The animal inside kept hissing and growling. Now directed at Keregar, challenging his captor. A mistake. Violently Keregar slammed the hammer against the iron, again and again. The metal clangor echoed through the air as Keregar let out a bestial roar, louder than the animal could ever produce. Its defiance was broken as it crawled to the back of the cage. Becoming a heap of frightened, whimpering fur. With his rage released, Keregar returned the hammer to his son. Leaving the battered, bent but not broken cage behind him.

“Lord Keregar of Kereg-Kor.” He simply stated to a wide-eyed gate guard. Who, when he recovered, ushered the others to let the whole caravan through. Once inside on the gate’s plaza, Keregar observed the streets, the houses and the palace in the distance. The city stank of excrement coming out of all three holes. He always hated the Capital. All the roads before him were packed with Drakkan and other beings. Some selling their trinkets in the shadow of ever larger houses, hiding from the hard sun overhead. The only reason he would ever come to such a cesspool of degeneracy was for a bride. Too many younger Drakkan roamed the streets, some with Gem’s in tow. It disgusted him. The people here had grown complacent. They lived between walls and fought each other. As if there was any glory in the weak fighting the weaker. None of the horned ones here would survive the wilderness Kereg-Kor edged.

He turned away from the disgusting image and faced his sons. “You know where my estate is. Near the palace. Go there and unpack the wagons. For you, this is the first time you will roam these filthy streets and see our future if we are not careful. Make sure that this place does not swallow you.” He stated with a grim voice. His sons dutifully bowed and went on their way. Leading most the caravans through the streets. Having inherited their height from their father, they yelled and pushed everyone who would not move aside. As they drilled through the busy streets, Keregar could not help but smile. With a bit of luck, a fool would drop under the carts and break his legs.

But he still had one more matter to attend to. He turned to his friends. They were older than his sons and servants. Each and every one of them earned their tattoos and trophies. They were in charge of the battered cage with the frightened animal. That was currently adding to the already horrible smell of the city. “Bring that beast to the palace. Tell them that it is a gift of Kereg-Kor to Prince Gaelnesh.” With a curd nod, they too went on their wave. A whip cracked over the heads of the pedestrians. Ushering them to make room.

The Warlord now stood alone at the entrance of a foul hell. How could a place that was not a battlefield smell so rotten? Alas, he did not care. The journey had been long and hard. So now he required a stiff, very stiff drink. With his blades on his back, he began to push himself through the streets as well. Completely disregarding the man stands for jewels and dresses.

Spring was always such an odd time in the North, especially as far north as Hima. It was the "morning of the year-long day," as the locals called it; the six months of constant night that were the winter were yielding to the dawn of spring. However, spring was of little comfort to the people of Hima. The winter's cold had yet to release its frigid grip, and the only real buzz surrounding spring was the greatly anticipated return of daylight.

It was proof that the world kept on moving.

For Lienna, nothing really changed. She woke up early, as usual (although without the sun to serve as a reliable timepiece, "early" was a relative term), stoked the fire, and started preparing the morning tea - all very quietly, with practiced ease. Soon, she had two small cups of herbs steeping, just in time for her grandmother to wake up on her own.

She didn't say anything. Lienna didn't either. She just handed the frail old woman her tea, and sipped her own silently in the morning gloom. Their days of cheerful morning talk were long gone.

With tea finished (and after having coaxed something into her grandmother's stomach) Lienna tucked her grandmother once more under her mountain of furs to go back to sleep. Sleeping seemed to be all she did these days, but at least it kept her from wandering.

"I'm going to town, Uma," Lienna whispered, pulling on her boots and strapping snowshoes under them, "I'll be back soon."

Her grandmother made no response. It was just as well; Lienna hadn't expected any.

---

"Ten pieces?" Lienna crossed her arms. "Absolutely not. Five."

The walk to town wasn't too long, but the fresh snow made it arduous. However, tiring as it may have been, Lienna reached town before too many people were awake to glare at her. Still, she had kept her face securely covered, both against the biting wind and the prying eyes of onlookers, as she made her way to the local butcher's.

"The winter was hard," replied the butcher, unhelpfully. "The price had to go up."

Lienna rolled her eyes. ”Really?” she challenged, ”Strange, I saw no shortage of elk.”

"Don't get smart with me," the butcher replied, "The price is ten. Take it or leave it."

Lienna scowled at the butcher, and snuck a glance over his shoulder at his wife, who sat in the back of the igloo cutting meat into long strips. She was short, stout and oddly proportioned, with a lumpy face and bulbous nose, and she kept sneaking disdainful looks at Lienna.

Crossing her arms, Lienna crinkled up her nose and stared for a moment at the various dried meats the butcher had to offer. Truth be told, the dried elk she was after did look good, but she knew that the price would lower back to five pieces the second she left the igloo. Such was life in Hima; the community was strong and close-knit, which made it easy for them to unite against you.

Finally, she grew tired of her battle of wills. "Fine," she sighed, defeated. "What will five pieces get me?"

The butcher glanced at his wares, thought for a moment, and replied, "About two pounds of dried seal."

Lienna groaned inwardly. Seal was tough and gamey, but it was cheap and fatty and would hold them out for a little while. Exasperated, she pulled her purse out from the folds of her furs, fishing out five round pieces of amber. She handed them to the butcher, along with a small sack to fill with her purchase.

By the time she left the butcher's, Lienna expected to see more people out and around, going about their morning chores and appreciating the new sunlight. However, when she emerged, the town was eerily empty. Even the people she'd seen on her way in had made their way back to their homes. Items such as bags and tools lay in the street, and the contents of a sack of spruce needles flew underfoot in the frigid wind. It looked like people had left in a hurry.

Turning around slowly, Lienna expected to see a pack of arctic cats or a large bear, or something of the powerful and scary sort that usually sent the residents of Hima into hiding. What she saw instead, she would have gladly traded for a nose-to-nose meeting with an angry bear.

It was impossible to miss; the large black carriage and tall, black-clad figures atop it stuck out of the otherwise white landscape like a fire at night. It lumbered through the snow like a lumbering monster, stopping every now and then as the wheels struggled against the snow. The beasts pulling it were clearly not suited to Northern conditions, and the beasts driving it were no better.

Reapers.

Lienna nearly dropped her bag and backpedaled, wide-eyed and frantic, to the nearest igloo, only to find it blocked by a still-hardening barricade of ice. One by one every nearby igloo in the village shut her out, leaving her exposed in the square, open to the wind and the Reapers. She wasn't surprised, of course. Many of these villagers had drowned their own daughters as babies to avoid the horror of the Reaping; it stood to reason that they didn't want anyone else's daughter dragged out of their homes either.

All Lienna could do was stand there and wait. To get home, she would have to pass right by the Reapers, and even if she could outrun them, where could she go? Back to her grandmother's igloo? They would only follow her there and punish her for running. There was nowhere else to hide: It was nothing but ice fields all the way to the black forest on the horizon.

So she waited.

They arrived quicker than Lienna would have guessed, cursing the cold and everything that lived in it. Stopping mere metres from her, one massive Drakkan hopped down from the carriage and approached Lienna, closing the distance in just a few strides.

"Uncover your face." He ordered.

With a trembling hand Lienna complied, and with a gloved hand the Drakkan roughly took hold of her jaw, turning her face this way and that to examine it. Once he had, he nodded and grunted to his partner, "She'll do."

As soon as he released her, Lienna hurried to cover her face once more, as even that brief exposure to the wind had left it stinging. She didn't know what else to do; what just happened barely registered.

"You have one hour to gather your belongings and say your goodbyes," boomed the Drakkan, "Which way is your home?" It was more of a demand than a question.

Lienna blinked, and slowly looked around. Home was almost an hour's walk away in this snow. By the time she arrived, she would barely have time to wake her grandmother and say goodbye before she was torn away, and that wouldn't do. She had more important matters to take care of if she was to be leaving.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pointed to the butcher's igloo. "That one."

If the Drakkan had noticed that she had just been barricaded from every igloo in the area, he didn't care. He simply nodded sharply and barked, "Go on then, and be quick about it." He turned back to the carriage, muttering, "Fucking wind."

It took a second for Lienna's feet to move, but soon she was throwing her fists against the wall of ice in the igloo's entrance, giving a push with both her magic and her hands and breaking in. Before she was even all the way through the short tunnel, the butcher's wife started shouting, "No, no! You get out! I won't have those beasts breaking down my walls to get at you!"

Despite the wife's protests and the comically small slivering blade she brandished, Lienna pushed into the igloo. "Stop!" she shouted back, hands outstretched defensively, "Naia's love, woman, relax! They've already chosen me!"

She sank to her knees, then, onto the fur-lined floor. "Naia's love," she repeated, voice much softer now. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes and her throat burned. "I've been chosen..."

The butcher and his wife said nothing, and for a moment Lienna could only look down at her mittened hands in shock. The gravity of the situation was beginning to hit her, and a million thoughts raced through her mind.

Snapping out of her reverie, Lienna sniffed and wiped her eyes urgently with her mitten before looking back up at the butcher. "I need your help."

The butcher opened his mouth to protest, but Lienna stopped him. "I'm not asking you to hide me, or help me escape," she reasoned, "I'm only asking for your kindness."

"You know my grandmother is ill," she began, "She can't take care of herself. She relies on me. Without me to take care of her, she'll die." She pulled her purse once more from her coat and put it on the table between them. "This is all the money we have. Take it - I don't need it anymore. But please, speak to your father about her. I know he sits on the village council, he could help her. You could all help her." She made a point to look at the butcher's wife with that statement.

They didn't particularly like her, sure. The whole town could have said the same. But there was little more heartbreaking to a Water Gem than to witness the loss of one's memories, one's wisdom. Stories and knowledge lost to the ages were enough to arouse fear and pity in even the most judgemental of them. Lienna was confident that every Hima resident would agree: the loss of one's mind was far worse than the loss of one's life. She prayed they would take pity on her grandmother.

The butcher thought for a moment, glanced to his wife, and reached for the purse. "Very well," he replied, tossing the bag behind him, "Consider it done."

Lienna almost burst into tears, and stood up to take the butcher's hand. "Thank you," she professed, "Naia blessed, thank you."

She turned to leave, but the butcher stopped her. "Wait," he stated, "Give me your bag."

Hesitantly, Lienna handed over the sack that he so recently had filled with dried seal. The butcher turned, rummaged for a moment, and turned back again, returning the bag to her somewhat heavier. "For your trip," he stated.

Lienna welled up once more as she took the bag, and nodded her thanks. She could barely muster a breath, but the butcher seemed to understand. He simply nodded as she made her way out.

She emerged to find a Drakkan, a different one than had examined her, waiting outside. Just as she stood, his companion appeared, murmuring, "Not a single other one worth a damn, can you believe it?" Peeking around his massive figure, Lienna saw various faces poking out of the entrances of various igloos, watching with morbid curiosity.

The Drakkan looked down at her, and then her sack. "Is that all you have?"

Lienna swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Come on then." The Drakkan grabbed her roughly by the arm, not that he'd needed to, and dragged her to the carriage. Lienna didn't fight. She didn't even look back. The only thing she looked for as she was shoved in the carriage and carted away was the dot of an igloo on the horizon.



By the time they reached Shadow Worth, Lienna was elated. Not about their destination, of course, but because she could finally get out of that wretched carriage and plant her feet on unmoving ground.

The trip from Hima to the Spine had taken fourteen days. Fourteen. Days. Two weeks of her life, spent cooped up in a dark wooden box, fighting down waves of nausea as the rickety thing pitched to and fro over every bump. Over the first day or so she had wept - how could anyone not have? - but the tears soon dried up. She hadn't been sure if she was crying of sadness for her old life, or fear for her new one, or something else altogether. Truth be told, her heart wasn't in it. To her, it almost felt like she cried because that was what people did when they were ripped from their lives and thrown into slavery. That was what was expected. The most appropriate response, surely.

It wasn't that she wasn't sad, or scared. Of course she was. She'd heard the horror stories of how Gem Brides rarely lived through the season once in the grip of their captors, how the Drakken loved pretty things because they loved to see them break. She also hadn't been able to say goodbye to her grandmother, which would have crushed her so much more if she thought her grandmother would have understood the situation and cried with her. But honestly, Lienna thought it better this way. This way, her grandmother wouldn't have to be distressed, would be taken care of, and probably wouldn't even notice her absence.

As for her former life, there wasn't much to mourn. She loved her grandmother, of course, but taking care of her was a heavy burden, and allowed for little else than constant care and vigilance. Lienna's life at home was a job she did out of respect, and out of the debt she felt she owed her grandmother for taking her in as a baby. Still, the job killed her a little every day. The pain of looking into her grandmother's eyes, which once had shone with such wisdom and love, and seeing no recognition, no sign of clarity, was like a spike in Lienna's heart. Watching her struggle to dress or feed herself with hands that had once deftly made water fly and shadows dance made Lienna's gut twist. Truth be told, she had mourned her grandmother years ago; the body she had taken care of until now was but a cruel shadow of a distant memory.

The rest of the ride had been nothing but a chore, bumping through various countrysides, weather getting hotter all the time. Lienna had marvelled at the grass and flowers and trees as they pressed southward, but the bucking of the carriage eventually redirected her attention from the wonders outside the window to keeping her food down. When finally they reached Shadow Worth, Lienna welcomed the mountain wind and cold like an old friend and pressed on into the castle of her own accord (under the eyes of guards, of course), eager to put as much distance between her and the carriage as possible.

She stood stoically through the speech, relatively unperturbed (she'd heard it all before in stories, and the truth of it all hadn't quite yet sunk in) and allowed herself to be herded into a room. Once inside, she stripped down eagerly, did what she could to wash off the past two weeks and changed into the plain grey clothes provided without protest. Perhaps she might be hesitant to shed her furs if her journey had been shorter, but after two weeks? She was ready to burn them. Clean clothes, then, were a welcome commodity.

Exhausted from travel, Lienna wasted no time getting to sleep. The relief of being able to stretch out in a room that didn't sway and jerk or move at all overcame her dread of the days to come, and for the first night in two weeks, she slept soundly.



For the first time in years, Lienna didn't wake up on her own. Instead, she was jerked quite rudely from sleep by the pounding on her door. Once more (though less happily, having resented being torn from her slumber) she followed the herd of teary-eyed Gems all the way to the dining hall, where tables were made up with foods she'd never seen or even learned the names of.

Even having been able to sleep soundly and wearing clean clothes, Lienna was still too irritated from the trip to bear sitting next to any of the many sobbing girls around the room. Instead, she scanned the crowd for a less crowded space, until her eyes landed on a flash of white among the sea of grey. Intrigued, Lienna made her way over.

It was a girl (obviously), with stark white hair and pale skin much like Lienna's, framing a set of vibrant blue eyes. Lienna took the seat across from her, taking small portions from whichever dishes looked most foreign. Surely many Gems present were seeking out familiar foods, but Lienna had grown very tired of the salted dried meat of her homeland and was eager to try something juicy and colourful.

Plate full, she glanced up at the girl opposite her, icy lilac eyes meeting her blue ones. "Excuse me," she asked between bites, "Are you from Maanku?"

Amalia's attention was taken from her plate to the pale haired girl who sat across from her.
"Excuse me? Are you from Maanku?" she asked.
Amalia shook her head. "No, but I have heard of it in my studies. I am from Artane, on the Emerald Coast. My name is Amalia."
While she spoke Amalia took in the girl. She was very pretty. They looked very similar. One would almost assume they were from the same place. But while Amalia's beauty was more soft, like gentle waves lapping against the shore, this girl had an ethereal beauty, like the sheen of freshly fallen snow in a glade. There was little doubt she would be fought over.

Amalia guessed her to be either a Water or an Air Gem. While Amalia looked like an Air Gem thanks to her father's genes, she got her abilities from her Earth Gem mother.

Quiet conversation with some whimpers drifted through the dining hall. Amalia shook her head. "Some of them will not survive their first night. My heart aches for them. I can only pray the Great Mother will give me her strength.," she looked at her companion curiously. "Do you pray to the Great Mother? I know that some have lost faith in her. Truly it is difficult at times to hold on when such things happen to us."

A cup slammed down next to her. A girl who looked like an Earth Gem sobbed. "What is the point of praying? The Great Mother has abandoned us! Why else would she not heed our cries and answer our prayers? We are abandoned! We are cursed!"
Amalia put her arms around the girl, trying to quiet her outburst. "Quiet please," she pleaded gently. "If you become hysterical they will surely punish you. Calm. Please. I know you are scared. I am too. Even if you do not have faith in the Great Mother anymore, remember her teachings: be humble, be kind, be generous. Such traits are true beauty and will be rewarded," Amalia soothed her, running a hand over her hair and rocking her gently as the girl cried into her chest.

"What if I am chosen by a Drakken who is as ugly as he is cruel?" the girl sobbed. "What if he tortures and kills me for entertainment?"
"As pretty as you are?" Amalia asked, pulling back to brush the girl's hair from her face. "You will surely be fought over by the most handsome of Drakken. And Drakken do value hard work. Do your best and your future husband may treat you fairly."

The girl hiccupped and looked at Amalia with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. "How can you be so positive?"
"Because I refuse to become the alternative," Amalia answered. "I will not let their hatred destroy who I am."