Girlie1Bomba — Roleplayer Guild

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How impressed was the Lady in this moment?

The heaviness of such a gaze should wilt and wither any that slid past that gaze and interupt the Lady's trained sight upon Lily. Anything past half-dead that befell such a gaze would be rendered full-dead and the Lady would claim them. Lady Leaza, though victim to the truth that the faerie spoke, she as an Ancient would have to accept such truths. But as for how the faerie greeted the Ancient...? No single Ancient should just accept such disrespect. From anyone. Ever. And she was an Ancient, was this Lady Leazza.

And this near-Mortal Fae, Lily, chose her own emotion over proper and due respect. Unacceptable. 

Oh, but the Lady was not impressed to say the very least, darling...

"Why, well I...! Are we so different, Miss Lily? How tragic, no...?"

True, they were too opposite in their views and ways. True, the Lady's motives here were not of the overbearingly altruistic kind. And yet finally, true, dire circumstances necessitated dire alliances. But. If the 'Angel of Death' says hello. You do not ignore such politeness. You reciprocate in kind.

And Lily made the mistake of not reciprocating with even the slightest hint of a proper greeting. Such disrespect. Unacceptable.

"But there is a lesson here, dear faerie. Are you ready to learn it then, dear faerie? This is a lesson that should cut you to the bone... and further, deeper past the succulent marrow of your Fae and Fair body, dear faerie..."

A single sickle emerged out of nothing but darkness, shadow and non-Life. This was but one of her twin Blades of the Unlived. If the sharpened bits of her fingertips could cut through the air that you breathe then despair should you see such blades... For these blades could cut through anything; body, heart, and even whim, fancy and other such thoughts from the soul. And so what of the unimitable and unique soul? Could such a Sickle made of Unlived Steel cut through a soul?

"Heed this lesson well. 

"...Now hold still, darling..."

Well then. Lily was about to find out.

~~~

The Sickle was raised.

“What in the Mud god's holy swamp is going on here?”

The Sickle was returned.

Her dusky gown chased her movements as she twirled. A sudden and befitting pose she held as her gaze fell upon the newcomer. If the She of the Crossing could flash a smile.

"Hail to you, Mr. Edgar, so well-spoken and fine to the Stone," a flowing curtsey and drawn out bow she gave, so respectful and yet so final at the same time, "welcome to you, Ancient sir, he known to the near-Mortals as EDG, yet revered as The Rock Whisperer..."

Upon the sighs and songs of the dead she floated, Dead-lit wings flapping softly, gown flowing not from the near-Mortal breeze of the Tangle. Before him now, she reached out for one of his hands, then the other. Should he give both hands to her, the Lady would embrace her brother Ancient. And if such an act would transpire, the Tangle should react in kind. How long had it been since they had greeted one another in such a fashion? 

"Mother Ina'Raynjara is turned to stone. Our sister Unicorn stands till eternity in her Greenery, Mr. Edgar. I am for certain than many other Ancients have received such a fate."

A small sigh. A gesture to the elegantly yet eternally posed being before them, "But look upon her. The-- the-- oh, but this Lady cannot even forge her proper name out loud, the time is so dire. How dreadful. I can only call her the 'Obsidian Idol.' But look, Ancient sir. See. Feel.  Comprehend the gravity of her fate."

A gauntleted hand stroked the cheek of the ol' Rock Whisperer in sadness. In comfort. In despair.

"Mr. Edgar, her heart has been taken. Only the hollow of the pitiful and the lost remains in her chest. We must get it back, darling. We must...!"

A dramatic sway befell the elegant angel of Death as she swooned away from the embrace. Back towards Crow she now flew. But suddenly, oh so sudden, her cowl shifted, the dark within trained now upon Lily. The piercing nature of such a gaze was muted now. Perhaps Lily had learned a lesson, thought Sister Reaper now; a lesson that involved no swing nor swipe of an Unlived Steel Sickle no less.

The gaze that befell the faerie should the faerie fail to realize, or not, was one of pity. Lady Leaza hoped that Lily understood that no matter how twisted, how opposite, how different the ways and being of an Ancient, they, as Ancients, would always find a common ground no matter what. And pity if Lily did not see such things and learn how to find a common ground and properly greet not just one, but all Ancients.

All an Ancient ever wanted was just a little respect afterall.

~~~

And so she took pause now. 

The commotion by the fallen spiderling was not what had upset her. No, she expected more to come calling, drawn by the cry of the king, drawn by the cry of despair or drawn by the crying of the Tangle herself. And yet still she stood there, the little fuzzy thing in her grasp. Eyes of the stitched-together-fiend searchng for her own eyes in the hollow of the dark that resided in her cowl.

This thing in her hand was inert and floppy; what threat could it pose to the Lady...? But its eyes. Oh, those beady, buttony eyes. Those eyes were unlived, true, but she could feel... 

Well, for the first time in forever, literally forever, it dawned upon her. True, it was not alive and as such she may not claim it nor teach it a lesson for attempting to flop its way into her very own personal space with such disrespect but... for some reason it held within it some kind of existence. She could feel--

"--why, you silly stuffy thing... you have a soul...! Now who could have put that into you...?"

Lady Leaza would reach into the little stuffy bear, remove the lost soul, snap it in half with but a single hand, and down the broken shards just like candy-- but she stopped in time. She had no right to this soul. 

For it was true that it had a soul, but it was not a lost soul. Only lost souls could the Lady claim in but an instant and within full right. But nay and again nay, it actually belonged to another. The one who put it there... This spiderling... But how could it have such tremendous power to put a soul into a silly stuffy thing...? And how many more silly stuffy things stuffed with souls were out there;all those  that she had missed? How many counless millenia had this gone undetected to the Lady, She of the Crrossing, the angel of death...? 

Such a prospect intrigued her like none other had in such a long time. And such a prospect shamed her like none other. How could she have let such a simple thing slip from her grasp?

But regardless, she turned her gaze towards this newcomer. Upon the whispers and willingness of the dead she floated on over to the spiderling. The smile he held she regarded then merely waved it off.

"And hail to you. Now then... You will refer to me as Lady Leaza. Now please introduce yourself."

Curt and rather arrogant, but at least she did say please. But as soon as introductions were complete something completely out of the ordinary (if 'ordinary' could be defined in this world) took place and the only the truly-true and truthfully perceptive would take note. No, it was not the fact that the Lady offered up the silly, stuffy bear back to the spiderling, nay.

"This must belong to you... Take it..."

And no it was not the fact that she offered up the silly, stuffy bear without making a bargain for such a disrespectful gesture towards her. Honestly, but who dares to just flop up against the Ancient Sister Reaper without permission and not expect to come away unscathed. But nay it was not that.

"What is its name, darling...?" 

No, only the truly-true and truthfully perceptive would note that after asking that question, the Lady Leaza had smiled. But not just any smile. It was a smile of delight hidden within the dark of the absence of Life therein. It was a smile of delight that was much unlike any one that an Ancient should make. Nay.

It was a smile of delight that only a near-Mortal could make.

~~~
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