BunniesOfDoom
Expendable
Hari
Testament Nymph
MrSkimobile
Bacon
gobboguy
Triantafyllo
EweDoughNo
IAmAugustReign
@Esailia
Rendyl - In the Solaris keep.
Passing the door to Drakus’s personal greeting room, Rendyl is alarmed to hear hush whispers coming from inside the masters quarters from behind a closed door.
Two swift voices flew back and forth in some sort of swift nervous altercation.
The Avian blinked in confusion, no one should’ve been using the Master's greeting room. She stepped a little closer to the door and listened, trying to figure out what was being said.
The whispers continued back and forth, short and sharp, carrying forceful determination while trying to be as subtle and as quietly as they could..
“Take it!”
“No I don’t want to.”
“Please! Just do it.”
“No, I’m not getting involved.”
“Shhwehfde hmmmble” the voices hush before stopping.
Rendyl straightened, tucking that old book she hasn’t let go of since returning to Solaris under one arm, before pushing the door open. She was the head of the guard, so she had every right to confront whoever was meeting behind closed doors. She stepped in, holding beside the door frame to take stock of the room.
It was a lovely room, small and extravagant with lush chairs and a fine dining table in the center. Everything was in place except for the two intruders standing next to a bookshelf, huddling around a dim candle light. A fearful expression of shock suddenly caught their faces as they turned to face Rendyl.
The avian recognised both of the young servants. One was the maid who had accompanied Abbie to harrows tower. She still wore the bandages of her injuries and nursed a broken arm.
The other was a new court bard of the acrobatic field, who upon discovery quickly retreated his hand from the maid and shoved an object into his inner coat.
Both just stared at rendyl, dumbfound and silent, a streak of fear running through their expressions over a terrible guilty smile.
The guard looked sternly at the maid, then sent a scathing glare to the bard. She didn’t participate in politics very much, but even she knew what the bard’s guild was up to nowadays. Raising her voice, she spoke with a hardly used authority “Why are you using the Lord’s greeting room? No one is allowed in here without permission.”
She looked the bard up and down, noting his attempt to hide something in his attire “And what is that? A weapon? I will remind you that only House Guards may carry arms in the castle. Show me what it is you have.”
With an open mouth and trembling knees, words failed to escape from the young bards paling face. With obedience he removed a thin sealed unopened envelope and held it out.
“Nn, no miss. Not a weapon. H, here miss. I found this.”
He eventually managed to stammer, his words nearly shaking more than his hands.
“Found.” She rolled her eyes and reached her hand out to the bard to grab the envelope, the tone obviously unbelieving. Rendyl examined both sides before looking back up to the pair, her attention diverted to the maid for a moment “And why are you here exchanging hushed words?”
The envelope was plain and of simple parchment, an unmarked wax seal held it closed.
The maid looked to the bard, her eyes apologetic as she spoke. Not knowing what else to say she spoke the truth, putting loyalty above friendship.
“He dragged me in here.”
She said softly, her eyes falling to the floor.
“Hmm….restraining a young woman in a room reserved for the Lord, and an envelope you ‘found’. Let’s see what’s inside, hm?” The Angel of Sol used a fingernail to dig under the lip of the envelope, tearing the top neatly across before looking inside.
The wax seal surprisingly melted away into a slimy sludge when torn, it marked all that it touched as it slid down the parchment and would leave a red stain if coming into contact with skin.
The note inside was written with in the most basic and neat lettering.
((The arena gardens are a shady open area situated behind the grand arena between the slums and the graveyard. During the day children rough-house to the sounds of distant cheers while at night, less savoury dealings occur free from the scrutiny of town guards.))
Rendyl - In the Solaris keep.
Passing the door to Drakus’s personal greeting room, Rendyl is alarmed to hear hush whispers coming from inside the masters quarters from behind a closed door.
Two swift voices flew back and forth in some sort of swift nervous altercation.
The Avian blinked in confusion, no one should’ve been using the Master's greeting room. She stepped a little closer to the door and listened, trying to figure out what was being said.
The whispers continued back and forth, short and sharp, carrying forceful determination while trying to be as subtle and as quietly as they could..
“Take it!”
“No I don’t want to.”
“Please! Just do it.”
“No, I’m not getting involved.”
“Shhwehfde hmmmble” the voices hush before stopping.
Rendyl straightened, tucking that old book she hasn’t let go of since returning to Solaris under one arm, before pushing the door open. She was the head of the guard, so she had every right to confront whoever was meeting behind closed doors. She stepped in, holding beside the door frame to take stock of the room.
It was a lovely room, small and extravagant with lush chairs and a fine dining table in the center. Everything was in place except for the two intruders standing next to a bookshelf, huddling around a dim candle light. A fearful expression of shock suddenly caught their faces as they turned to face Rendyl.
The avian recognised both of the young servants. One was the maid who had accompanied Abbie to harrows tower. She still wore the bandages of her injuries and nursed a broken arm.
The other was a new court bard of the acrobatic field, who upon discovery quickly retreated his hand from the maid and shoved an object into his inner coat.
Both just stared at rendyl, dumbfound and silent, a streak of fear running through their expressions over a terrible guilty smile.
The guard looked sternly at the maid, then sent a scathing glare to the bard. She didn’t participate in politics very much, but even she knew what the bard’s guild was up to nowadays. Raising her voice, she spoke with a hardly used authority “Why are you using the Lord’s greeting room? No one is allowed in here without permission.”
She looked the bard up and down, noting his attempt to hide something in his attire “And what is that? A weapon? I will remind you that only House Guards may carry arms in the castle. Show me what it is you have.”
With an open mouth and trembling knees, words failed to escape from the young bards paling face. With obedience he removed a thin sealed unopened envelope and held it out.
“Nn, no miss. Not a weapon. H, here miss. I found this.”
He eventually managed to stammer, his words nearly shaking more than his hands.
“Found.” She rolled her eyes and reached her hand out to the bard to grab the envelope, the tone obviously unbelieving. Rendyl examined both sides before looking back up to the pair, her attention diverted to the maid for a moment “And why are you here exchanging hushed words?”
The envelope was plain and of simple parchment, an unmarked wax seal held it closed.
The maid looked to the bard, her eyes apologetic as she spoke. Not knowing what else to say she spoke the truth, putting loyalty above friendship.
“He dragged me in here.”
She said softly, her eyes falling to the floor.
“Hmm….restraining a young woman in a room reserved for the Lord, and an envelope you ‘found’. Let’s see what’s inside, hm?” The Angel of Sol used a fingernail to dig under the lip of the envelope, tearing the top neatly across before looking inside.
The wax seal surprisingly melted away into a slimy sludge when torn, it marked all that it touched as it slid down the parchment and would leave a red stain if coming into contact with skin.
The note inside was written with in the most basic and neat lettering.
-Meet me at the arena gardens tomorrow morning at the extinguish of the first lights.
I don’t wish to be your enemy, all I ask is for you to deliver a gift.-
((The arena gardens are a shady open area situated behind the grand arena between the slums and the graveyard. During the day children rough-house to the sounds of distant cheers while at night, less savoury dealings occur free from the scrutiny of town guards.))