Eleven

The Promised Children : Eat, or Be Eaten

vii. seraph

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^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}
The prospect of seeing another one of her siblings was a band-aid to the broken heart she was currently nursing. It didn't erase the hurt or sorrow, only kept her together enough to function. Seven didn't realize how absolutely drained she was until she felt her control slipping once more, although not of her light this time. Being confined in such a small space already made it harder not to eavesdrop, or whatever you would call tuning into others' emotions, and her exhaustion exacerbated things. The driver, for instance, radiated apprehension and discomfort. It felt like an annoying itch she couldn't scratch that, as they drove through a slew of picturesque townhomes, became unbearable.

Seven gritted her teeth through it, but ultimately couldn't help herself. With nothing more than a simple flutter of her eyelashes as a sign, she eased his concerns and gave him a dose of glee. It was a discreet change in his mood—he was humming quietly now, instead of fidgeting nonstop in his seat—but Emm probably noticed.

Speaking of her beloved… it wasn't just the driver's anxiousness that gnawed on her. Emm wasn't faring any better and she wished she could help him now. Should she ask him if he needed help? Of course not, he'd only refuse. What if she didn't tell him and just did it? Seven knew that Emm had seemed singularly immune to her light, but she didn't know how strongly he could resist her emotion control. The only time she had ever tried it on him was the first night he was assigned to her, and that resulted in days of isolation and a lesson learned.

Seven stared at him for a long moment before simply reaching out a hand to place on top of his, half-prepared to recoil if he got mad. In the distance, she could make out the telltale structure of the airport slowly coming into view.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

(D&D 5E) The Tyranny of Dragons, Part 1; Hoard of the Dragon Queen

I'm okay with it, as well. I've gotten used to Discord for OOC chatter.

The Promised Children : Eat, or Be Eaten

vii. seraph

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^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}

Laidback job, Emm had said, and Seven looked down at her brother's body in her arms in confusion. Would all this have been avoided had Ten's friend not caused such a fuss about them? Was it something as simple as that? Seven glossed over what Emm mentioned about heading to the battlefield, having no strength left in her to protest as she normally would. Battlefields didn't suit her, but perhaps she'll feel differently about them today. Getting rid of those involved in her brother's death had been only mildly satisfying, and seemed to had the adverse effect of whetting her appetite.

Seven wondered if it would take more people to slake this hunger or the right one. The mere mention of his name had filled her with fury unlike she'd ever felt. She wanted to ask Emm so many things. Why must they follow the man who would kill her siblings for such minor infractions? Weren't they supposed to be special? Weren't they key to changing the world? Were they really so disposable?

But Emm's own anger pricked at her senses then, and almost instinctively, Seven was compelled to appease him. "That's not true. I care about you," she told him, almost defensively. "I want to do whatever makes you happy."

They waited for their ride in silence, with Emm smoking and Seven somberly cradling Ten's body. She would hold onto him for as long as she could, and despite everything, she held out hope that she could bury him, with all her siblings with her. How far she can take him, she'd just have to see. The black car that arrived shortly after was not as extravagant as the one prior, and the meek man that came out to greet them looked instantly repulsed at the sight of her. Soaked head-to-toe in blood and carrying a corpse, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Still he ushered her in, and managed to keep from wretching all throughout.

Seven got in the car and sat opposite Emmanuel, carefully adjusting Ten on her lap so that he wouldn't be touching Emm at all. She had to be careful as always to not anger him any further, needed to dance around his ire and placate him with obedience. It was the only way to earn his love, and such a hard task that was.

After he'd mentioned the possibility of seeing—and getting to speak with!—more of her siblings, Seven regained some of the cheer she had lost. See, this was why she loved him. Her Emm knew exactly what she wanted.

(D&D 5E) The Tyranny of Dragons, Part 1; Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@CollectorOfMyst 11 for me!

The Promised Children : Eat, or Be Eaten

vii. seraph

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^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}
The familiar warmth of Emm's presence brought a much-needed solace to Seven's despairing, at least for a second. Upon finally setting her eyes on him—something that, before today, was a cure-all for her—the momentary respite would be replaced with a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach. That mask, that smile; it was all she could see when she closed her eyes and the grisly fate that befell her brother played over and over in her head. Why was he wearing it? Did he know what happened to her brother? Did he let this happen?

There were so many things she wanted to do and all at once: tear that mask off Emm so she could look at his face, yell, hug Emm and make him tell her everything will be okay, cry, find out how to make Ten better, kill everyone responsible for this, eat, talk to Ten, kill them all, find her brothers and sister. But in the end, she had been drained of all energy to do anything more than wallow and continue cradling Ten's lifeless, headless body. Even Emm's unusually gentle gesture, one she would have leapt over the moon to receive, didn't get the proper consideration.

His words did, though. Said with his face under the mask that haunted her, Emm's threats hit harder than usual. Her light abruptly dimmed and wavered, not completely turned off but no longer out of her control.

Seven hugged Ten closer to her when the top-hatted man appeared. He was mocking, infuriating, cruel. The man gave Ten no more than a passing glance, with the same nonchalance in his recounting of Ten's friend's death, and he left as quickly as he'd arrived, his hysterical laughter echoing harshly in her ears.

The sudden loss of Emm's touch affected her more than she realized, but he had given her another gift in its stead.

With a nod, Seven accepted what Emm offered. After setting Ten gently against a wall, she tuned her light so that it would draw the crowd in, closer and closer until they all swarmed around her. The effects of her light differed from person to person, in intensity and sensation, but eventually everyone would be spurred into a euphoric state unlike anything they would have ever experienced. Better than any drug or vice they might have indulged in. Seven let the crowd get immersed in this bliss, waited until each and everyone of their eyes turn glassy and unfocused, until their smiles reach ear to ear.

Then she took it all away.

One by one, Seven stole unadulterated jubilation and replaced it with the all-encompassing dread and sorrow she felt now. She relished the manifest loss of hope in their eyes, and the slow understanding of their impending demise. Seven was never usually cruel like this. When she feasted, she did it with friends, did it so they would always be together. This time was different, however. These people were not friends, but enemies who have played a part in her brother's death.

She ripped their heads clean off their body, one person after another, and devoured them. Within minutes, a dozen or so headless bodies littered the front of the building, their fine clothing soaked through with the crimson of their blood.

When she finished the last of the crowd, Seven tried to wipe her face clean with her sleeves, but it was just as covered in blood and only smeared streaks across her cheeks. She knelt down to where she had left Ten and carried his body again, whispering an apology to him even though there was nothing to whisper to.

"Can we go home now?" she asked Emm, more to have something to say rather than actually meaning it. All she wanted was to get away from this terrible place. Take Ten home and maybe bury him somewhere. What should she tell her brothers and sisters?

Emm probably just has another order for her, though.

The Promised Children : Eat, or Be Eaten

vii. seraph

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^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}
Her miracle has made her attuned to people's emotions, and it was with this prescience that Seven first realized they were not alone. This man's immense presence, and the cold fury beneath, almost knocked the wind out of her, even physically stopped her in her tracks. Seven reached for her brother's hand instinctively, only to find him standing face to face with the masked man himself. He was even bigger and more menacing up close, even more so as he approached them as though to strike. She didn't realize what he was doing until it was too late. Before the scream could reach her lips, the masked man caught hold of Ten, grabbing him by the head like he was nothing more than a rag doll.

At a loss, Seven defaulted to what she did when her siblings were engaged in a fight: make herself scarce and move to the sideline. She was by no means intended for the front line, and she wouldn't dare test the limits of her combat prowess now, not when her brother's life was at stake. Instead, she gave way to the phantasmal hands springing forth from the ground, ceiling, and wall, willing them to give the aid Ten desperately needed.

Seven watched as they wrenched and pulled and clawed, all for naught. The masked man was unperturbed, swatting away the hands as though they were mere flies. She froze when he directed his attention to her—ironic, she'd think later, that she would feel the same sort of fear she imparted just minutes ago—but she felt no malice in his gaze toward her. His words only confirmed what she intuited.

"I'll teach Ten to be good, too," Seven appealed. Perhaps, he'd spare Ten if she can convince him that he will no longer disobey orders. She'll user her miracle on him when he's being stubborn, even though she hated using it on her siblings. She'll do anything if it meant saving them. "I can, I promise!"

Her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. In the seconds it took for her to beg, the masked man had carried out his sentence; judge, jury, and executioner in one fell swoop.

Blood splattered her face, her hair, her pretty pink dress. Seven wiped where she felt it rolling down her cheek and stared at her hands, uncomprehending. Blood was good. Delicious. Her second favorite thing to consume, after the heart. But this… She stared at her hand with rising panic. This repelled her, made her wretch, made her sick to her stomach. This was Ten's?

Her eyes hesitantly drop to where Ten's body laid, convulsing and grotesque, blood still gushing from the hole where his head used to be. His head! Seven frantically searched the carnage but found no remnants of Ten. No haughty smirk, no confident gaze; everything that made him Ten reduced to shattered bones and a mess of brain matter. If he'd remained in tact, there was hope, however small a sliver, that he could be saved. But what now?

Wordlessly, Seven walked past the masked man to pick up her beloved brother's body, and carried him outside. There, she found a corner to sit and wait as she was ordered, cradling what's left of Ten in her bloodstained arms. She held his hand and wept violently. It had been so long since she'd seen her brother, and they didn't even get to talk. Now there was no mouth for him to speak with, nothing left for her to call brother.

In her grief, her light became volatile, 'turning on' without her say-so to envelop her protectively. The light she radiated was not as wide and encompassing as it normally would to entice people further away, but brighter and more intense, almost blindingly so. It called for one person in particular—her Emm; he'll make things better, she just knows it.

Anyone still alive would undoubtedly feel its pull as well, but all the better. Seven will make sure they experience exactly what Ten went through. Twofold.

(D&D 5E) The Tyranny of Dragons, Part 1; Hoard of the Dragon Queen

With the safety of her friends guaranteed, at least from the enemy kobolds—the dragon was a mountainous presence she could not ignore—Rhaeyla finally relaxed. She'd gone to pick up the dart she had used when a sharp stinging made her almost drop it again. Ah. The cut on her hand hurt more now that there was nothing else to focus on, so promptly found something else to do. She looked around: Cassandra and the family she protected were addressing wounds; Caw and Vaal were engaged in conversation—an interesting sight that Rhaeyla would think on later, when she wasn't so distracted, because of the marked difference between the two; and Sebastian…

Sebastian's gaze slowly drifted away from the fleeing kobold, to the grey mass that is the keep. Though little more than a wide, round tower and a tall stone wall, the dragon has swooped down over it more than once. Apprehension is clear on his face, his mouth taut with worry, and in his eyes... Rhaeyla can see that he's afraid.

She approached him, tentatively at first, unsure of what to say in spite of herself. Back in her village, many of her people would ask for her blessing when they needed help facing their fears. Would a false blessing from her help this time? It was clear to her, if nothing else, that it wasn't the dragon ever looming in the horizon that caused him dismay. But what else could leave him so shaken, if not such a creature?

"𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔," Rhaeyla spoke in Celestial for effect, but didn't pry any further. If he needed her help in anything and he asked her, she would do so in a heartbeat. "There's no harm in asking for help, right?"

The human coughs and averts his eyes. "Right. We, uhhh... we should move our horses out of sight. I think Cassie will want a few minutes. Can you give me a hand, Rhaeyla?"

"Of course!" Rhaeyla said, glad to be of service. Even if it wasn't the problem she thought she would be solving.

The horses were exhausted after the day's events and were easy enough to corral. Together, Rhaeyla and Sebastian guided them into a nearby stable; abandoned but barely damaged from the attack. They returned to the group shortly, with Rhaeyla sneaking worried glances at Sebastian every so often.

The Promised Children : Eat, or Be Eaten

vii. seraph

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^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 | Midnight ｣}
Seven didn't like this masked man or the way he seemed to peer at her, the etched smile on his false visage taunting and sinister. At Emmanuel's order, her lips curled into a frown, trembling as protest threatened to spill out. I don't want to leave you, she would have liked to say. Instead, she heeded orders like the dutiful child Emm expected and ran to her brother, taking hold of his hand to lead him outside. Whatever Ten's friend injected into him seemed to have counteracted his earlier punishment, but she was still worried for him.

"Let's go!" she said, even as she herself moved reluctantly.

They were halfway to the entrance when Seven turned to look back. A throng of zealots now surrounded the two handlers, moving slowly at first, circling them like predator would a prey, until Ten's friend all but gave them the signal to begin their hunt. Seven continued to run, but faltered in her step as a thought popped in her head.

A few of them were 'close' now, weren't they? Seven nodded to herself, convinced that she has found a loophole in Emm's orders. As she reached the wide double doors of the entrance, she harnessed as much fear as she could muster: fear so deep-seated that it ravaged mind and body, penetrated soul. Collected more and more until she was overflowing with it.

Once, she had explained to Emmanuel that she imagined her miracle was like her favorite part of church: Communion. Seven has been to countless masses in Italy, and while she never paid attention to the repetitive prayers and the long sermons, she was fascinated with the Communion rite. There, people held hands, kissed in a sign of peace, and feasted in the body and blood of their lord. Seven especially appreciated the lattermost ritual; it was similar to her own ritual with her best friends, although perhaps theirs may be more symbolic.

Ah, but back to the point. As she told Emm, in her Communion line, she is the one administering the Host, which in her case, is made of an emotion of her choosing instead of bread. The people around her are corralled into this line, mouths pried open in anticipation, whether or not they've consented.

This was what she did now. Seven picked the woman furthest back in the mob and served her a healthy dollop of fear. The switch in her mood is instantaneous, like a whiplash. Irrational fear swallowed this woman whole before she could blink, and down she went, curling into herself, heart beating erratically and mind rendered blank in terror. Then Seven targeted the older man next to her, then the man next to him. All three reacted differently; Seven has noticed there was no singular way to experience an emotion. One pissed himself – unfortunate, she thought pityingly – while the other turned tail and fled, his bloodcurdling scream loud even in the midst of all the commotion.

Seven did no more after that, afraid that Emmanuel would notice and threaten her with the cage again. They were out of the ballroom now and she had shut the doors for good measure. What was happening inside was a mystery to her, and she could only hope that her Emm was holding his own.

"Brother," she called, wringing the skirts of her dress in worry. "Where do we go now?"

(D&D 5E) The Tyranny of Dragons, Part 1; Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@CollectorOfMyst I'll try to whip up a quick post where Rhaeyla is helping Sebastian. Rolled a 16 for the Insight check you mentioned.

The Promised Children : Eat, or Be Eaten

vii. seraph

---

^{｢ Geneva, Switzerland | January, 23 ｣}
The sight of Ten, crumpled up and trembling and forced into submission, was heartbreaking. Why were they forbidden to speak to each other? They haven't seen each other for so long, and still they continue to keep them apart. Seven's hands involuntarily curled into angry fists; in the depths of heart, hatred swirled and effervesced, threatening to spill over and be released.

But then her Emm mentioned her cage and she froze, turning even more pallid with dread. The thought if it—the isolation, the darkness, the silence—makes her sick to her stomach, and it was all she could do not to lurch. She looked at Emmanuel teary-eyed, a distinct look of hurt flashing across her features, but said and did nothing more, besides shaking her head to show her compliance. The miracle fizzled before fruition and everyone's emotions remained their own. In her excitement at seeing her brother, she had forgotten that Emmanuel's love came wrapped in threats and pain. But it didn't matter.

He is the only constant in her life. He is her favorite.

Seven gave Ten an apologetic look and made no move to help him, ignoring every impulse that screamed for her to do otherwise. No, she will sit and watch, and do nothing more. Perhaps they'll be rewarded for their obedience later. For now, Emmanuel was mad and she wanted… no, needed to make him like her again.

Turning her attention back toward the stage, Seven watched the execution with little interest, barely even registering the grotesquerie taking place. She stood along with the rest of the audience mechanically when they all rose to applaud, holding onto Emmanuel's hand as an attempt of a peace offering. Neither he nor Ten's friend seemed as happy as everyone else, and she had to remind herself not to do anything about it.

After a while, when she thought it was safe to, she asked Emmanuel, "will Ten be okay?"