Abstract Proxy — Roleplayer Guild

Lost in the finery of the room they had given her, Dominika felt alone. It was a familiar feeling. The servants were never more than a call away, but she was more than a person to them. She was a Scion, a most blessed and beloved child of Incepta. They had been transformed by their faith, as she had, changed from simple strangers to creatures of belief, receptacles for awe and obedience. It seemed, shamefully she thought, perhaps a lessening of them, a weakening of their person and herself, and an unwelcome becoming.

None of them could avoid it. They were bound by duty. The same duty she was. She had acted. She had done what she thought right. And still, there was no solace. Only doubt. Only the long night of the soul. Emptiness straddling the side of her bed.

The loose garments she had donned, felt wrong. The warm softness was overwhelming.

There was a brief set of courtesy knocks before the door to the room flew open, and Ionna entered. She looked a little frazzled, but it didn’t seem to touch her mood. With eyes still bright and a smile on her face she shut the door behind her and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Yeesh! Wow, what a night, huh?" Doffing her Templar armor for the more casual clothes underneath, she stuffed the crystal in her pocket and flung herself onto the couch, an arm and leg slung over the back cushions. 

Her head poked up, as if making sure Dom wasn’t hurt in some way. A flash of concern passed through her eyes, and was gone the next instant. Apparently satisfied that things were no longer dire, the cheer returned. 

"How’d it go in the, uh, whatsit? Snuggly?"

"Ahhh…it was an experience,"  Dom began, catching herself before she spoke too freely, "The Princess was a most gracious host. She is a very sweet child."

Sliding off the edge of the bed, Dom moved closer to Ionna, taking a seat precariously on the edge of the small coffee table, "However, I am afraid the Scion of Time and Fire do not seem to get along very well. They were most unkind to each other. Perhaps, it was just emotions, we only just survived the night."

Thoughts of the evening seemed to rouse Dom from her retelling and her cheeks ran red with color, "I’m sorry! I was far from helpful. I was not a very useful Scion. Despite Incepta’s great gift, I barely managed to hold one of my assailants off. I will do better next, I promise."

"Pff, come on, they caught us all by surprise," she said, waving Dom’s apology off right away. "Besides, you held your own! If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be talking right now, right? You’d be with Nadine."
The woman’s name brought a wince to Ionna’s face. "And, uh, speaking of that…I’m sorry I ditched you. I figured you’d be safe enough and, y’know, Nadine didn’t have a Templar. I just thought someone oughta try and go after her." She flung her arms over the sofa then, exasperated. "Hoo boy, wrong call. Irina was not happy about that. I mean, she’s never happy about anything, but she was extra unhappy. Yeah . So, maybe it’s better in the future for both of us if I just, y’know, stick by you!"

"You did the right thing! You were brave and I am proud of you," Dom exclaimed, awkwardly placing a hand on Ionna’s arm as a sign of her conviction. "I am no soldier, I will trust your judgment."

"Poor Ulysses, I hope Nadine is alright," Dom said, worry seeping into her voice once more, "You think she’s alright, don’t you?"

Ionna smiled up at her, but there was doubt clear on her face. "I…hope so," she said, patting Dom’s hand. "I didn’t really know her well, but she seemed tough. You two got on though, right? What do you think?"

"Yes, I would like to think so, she must be alright. She was nicer than…some of the others. Not that they aren’t nice. It’s just, you know, they are very different. They are very busy."

"Today wasn’t what I imagined it would be like. Of course, Incepta has a plan, she always does, we just have to…" Trying to explain, Dom found a lump growing in her throat, and rubbed the water away from her eyes. 

"Do you ever miss it? Your life before being a templar?"

Ionna was quiet for a moment, perhaps thinking, perhaps giving Dom time to settle. Eventually she sighed again, flopping back onto the couch with a shrug and a smile. "Mmmkinda. Mostly all I did was help my dad out with his work, and duel whenever my uncle could find a match for me. Not a lot of midnight ambushes, yeah, but not a lot of anything else, either."

"How about you? You miss the old days?"

A nervous energy took hold in Dom, a sure sign of guilt playing out across her face as she answered, "Every day. I was stressed, underpaid, underappreciated…but it was simpler then, so much simpler then! If only I had known. Perhaps, when this is over, we can travel, we can visit Pogona. I would see the port again, I wonder what they are building in the shipyard now? A great ship, surely."

"Dueling, is it not dangerous? Some hot tempered nobles would arrange matches in Lorenzia, but it was mostly for show. It was something of a fashion to acquire "dramatic" scars, for some time at least, before letting it be treated."

Dom paused, her lips pursed in a frown of thought, "You do not seem very hot tempered or very unkind. You are not what I imagined a seasoned duelist to be like. Why would your uncle wish for you to fight?"

Ionna shrugged, like she’d asked her why the wind blew. "S’just kinda how things are in Rodion. But it’s not all bad–it’s actually kinda fun! Yeah, some people get a bit heated, and there’s a lot of pretension when the gauntlet is actually thrown down, but tempers are mostly for soldiers. All the best duels I fought were against people who were kinda like you! Y’know, nice, a lil’ quiet, but then when they’re in their element it’s–boom! All action, and determination."

"There’s somethin’ special about bein’ one-on-one like that. A lot of folks say you can tell how a duel’s gonna go before it even starts. They’ll point out the records, or the weapons, or they’ll say someone looks nervous or distracted, yada yada, but I dunno. I’ve been surprised a few times, and I think I’ve surprised a couple people myself.

"Nothin’ like tonight though. Yikes. Don’t get me wrong, bein’ a Templar is great! But, wow, talk about missing the simpler times. I think you’ve got the right idea. Pogona, a nice boat, some sun. Mm! But hey! At least you don’t have to worry about bein’ underappreciated anymore, huh? I bet your old shipyard brags about you now, has plaques stuck to all the ships you worked on. Tell you what, Incepta sure didn’t underappreciate you."

"Ah, they were quite proud, embarrassingly they named a small ship after me. I told them not to, but they wouldn’t listen," Dom said, hiding her second bout of discomfort, with a small chuckle.

"I hope that she is not too displeased with me. You are no less favored by the Goddess though! You were in the thick of the fighting and you didn’t get so much as a scratch," Dom said, nodding sagely to herself as she spoke.

Rising to her feet in a sudden motion, Dom looked around the room, searching before she took hold of nearby silver candlestick, no doubt priceless given the weight in her hands as she pointed it at Ionna.

"Dame Ionna," she said, with unexpected formality and seriousness in her voice, "I have been negligent as a Scion. I have been weak. I will begin to remedy this failure tonight. You will teach me to fight, starting now…please?"

Ionna watched with surprise as Dom took up her weapon, only staring, blinking. For a moment it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer at all. An awkward end to a stressful night.

Then she smiled, beamed really, and hopped up off the couch like a coiled spring. She ran around to Dom, heedless of the candlestick, and shook her lightly by the shoulders. "Will I ever! Ohmygosh this is gonna be so much fun!"
Letting go, she plucked up a small lamp and discarded the shade, then moved to stand beside Dom. "Alright, Your Holiness!" she said, all the faux-formality sliding right off. The bounce in her step was just as evident in her voice. "Your first opponent is…you! Well, your form, your balance, and your confidence! Without those, you might as well be pointin’ that thing at yourself! So! Like my uncle used to say—‘Observe and repeat.’"
Ionna held her lamp up in a ready position, then, taking it in both hands, raised it high, stepped forward, and swung it down. "One!" she said. Next she brought the lamp to the side, stepped, and swung horizontally. "Two!" And finally, she brought it low, and, with a last step, swung it up diagonally. "Three!"
Finished, she twirled around with a satisfied smile, holding the lamp at her hip like she’d sheathed it. "Your turn!"

"I see," Dom said, mirroring Ionna’s motions, clumsily at first, and then with some confidence.

She turned mid swing, a half uttered question escaping her lips before the candlestick thumped unceremoniously into a nearby lamp, showering the floor with glass and torn paper fabric. Two guards appeared, weapons drawn, eyeing the Scion and Templar with caution.

"Sorry! We were just practicing," Dom managed, gently placing the candlestick back onto the coffee table. "I believe we are finished for tonight, thank you."

The guards nodded, holstering their pistols before vanishing with polite nods and only moderately irritated faces. Dom could see the relief in their eyes, everyone was still on edge and a false alarm was more than welcome...given the alternative.

"I’m sorry, I fell to distraction, but That was fun!" Dom whispered once they were alone again, covering her mouth to hide her laughter.

Dominika Kovač Pignatelli

Being separated from Ionna had been difficult. She knew better than to question the Fyodor. She knew little of the Templars, beyond the painfully obvious, much less the working of their ancient order. Ionna had been kind, they had gotten along well, and her joy had been a comfort in times so heavy with tribulation. Nothing had been said by Fydor or anyone else. Feelings of doubt were impossible to escape. She did not think she had done anything wrong. Her own worry harried her and would not allow her concern to fade. No one had blamed her, no one had brought her to task following the bloodshed at the banquet, but in the quiet hours of the night, she felt certain she had failed. She could not shake off the thorny thoughts that she was not the Scion of Metal that was needed.

There was nothing she could do about such fears, except to keep going. Times were strange and getting stranger. A Templar had been named twice. A Scion and her Templar were dead. It seemed a trifling thing in comparison to have a new Templar. There was a quite strength to Sara, different, but steel forged with the same strength as that Ionna had brought cheerfully with her. She had not sat idle, traveling the across the realm. Making appearances, attending functions, doing all that could be done to make it appear as if the Scions and Church were in no great danger. And Sara had been wit her the entire time, her new protector and her new shadow. 

Perhaps, another friend? Dom had begun to hope as much. She had fallen in easily with the serious Templar. She found her books interesting and her faith a boon in the deepest pits of her own doubt. Having always looked to the future, building ships over the years, she found it pleasing to talk about the science fiction that Sara read. To share baked goods acquired on the road or in some small shop was a welcome comfort. Dom had felt an outsider from the day she became a Scion and she suspected at times Sara was an outsider too. Few would dare to demean her in Dom's presence, but Dom knew that some would whisper insults in the darkness. Some, could not forget the past and would only see a foreigner. Dom felt an unexpected protectiveness about her new Templar. She remembered the lurch in her stomach seeing the Scion of Fire mistreat her. She had decided she would not allow it. She would not be silent if such matters arose.

The additional training she had begun hastily on the night of the attack with Ionna had continued with Sara. Each Templar fought in a different way, had mastered different skills, but it Dom found it hard to not be awed by their expertise. She acquired fresh bruises each day, new reminders of the vast sea of skill she had to cross. However, instead of feeling discouraged, Dom felt renewed. She had come to hold an almost obsessive devotion to her new talents as a Scion. She had channeled the energy once reserved for her craft, bending and shaping of metal into ships capable of sailing the seas, surviving great storms, and weathering blistering combat, into her the gifts that Incepta had bestowed upon her. She could do nothing less. It was the only way to find meaning in the recent violence.

Beyond the sorrow that the passing of the Scion of Lightening and her Templar had brought, Dom found herself particularly burdened with legal matters far outside of her own experience. To be named the successor of Marchioness Nadine Lucienne was an honor, one she would have happily refused had it not been the decision of the kindly woman herself. Such news were not happily received by all and Dom found herself troubled by the conflict that loomed on the horizon. Duchess Odette Lorelai had a noteworthy reputation and Dom suspected she had no interest in an amicable resolution. She could sympathize, she could understand the woman's frustrations, but it felt wrong to betray Nadine's will. Nadine had been an experienced Scion and a learned practitioner of magic, Dom saw only the hand of the Goddess in her final actions. Uncertain, she had asked Sara to render a judgment and to offer her thoughts. It was a delicate matter and she had no desire to be cruel or to wound the no doubt mourning Duchess. However, in the same breath she could ignore want Nadine had wanted. To do the right thing was not always easy...or pleasant.  She had sought out the Archbishop Elijah. He had advised her well and discreetly recommended a fine lawyer to help her navigate the unfortunate situation.

Chocolate chip cookie in hand, Dom listened with disquiet as conversation unfolded around her. Bloodshed demanded so freely, war proposed as if a mere game, it troubled her to her other Scions speak thus. Yet, there was hope in the restraint others suggested. She had traveled more broadly than most, in her prior life, unbound sailing on the ocean by the quirks of geography that came to be borders. She held no great hatred for any nation, not even the Kaudians. War did not appeal to her. In the anger of her spiritual equals, righteous as their fury might be, fearful as they all were, she saw only more suffering being promised to the wholly innocent. 

Bedecked in a black dress, adorned with lines of silver, Dom looked different than she had months earlier. Her hair was longer, falling just below her shoulder blades. A hint of confidence had grown within her, a fragile thing that still reached desperately towards the sun. To be silent seemed wrong, when great violence was being lightly contemplated and offered as haphazardly as the tea the child princess had poured for her.

"To swing a hammer uncertainly...imprecisely, is a quick way to smash your own fingers. I was always told to measure most carefully before I began any new work...Beginnings are...ummm...such delicate times and one must always consider the cost," Dom said, coughing apologetically.
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