Orpheus — Roleplayer Guild

Though the Lost Souls weathered a fierce battle with heavy casualties on their side, the trek back to Sol was far more trying. With most of the group exhausted and half-dead on their feet, it took everyone, including the two dragons, the last vestiges of their strength to continue on.

After what seemed like eternity, the lot of them finally left the Dark Side and was greeted by the sight of Sol’s gates, the once-proud city mirroring the beaten state of the humans with its battered gates and crumbled walls. They were given immediate medical attention by the finest clerics Sol could offer, and through their respective rooms in the hospital they could hear the jubilant cries of a certain dragon couple as they were reunited with their baby.

Despite the hellish way their adventure took several turns for the worst, it has now reached its conclusion, and the Lost Souls were on their way to starting another chapter of their quest in Nowhere.

The Kingdom of Sol, a day after the Lost Souls' return...

“Ah, Victoria. What are you doing here?” Ulysses Thinblood, leader of the Royal Dragoons, looked up when the door to his office was pulled open and a draft blew in. Victoria Sieghart-Rider walked in, her stunning profile and the terse expression on her face illuminated by the blocks of sunlight filtering in from the paneled window. She had never been a chatty one, so Ulysses did not mind when she deigned to respond to his greeting. Her next action though… was eyecatching enough.

The red-haired woman pulled out an envelope and slid it forward to the very center of his desk, atop the files he was perusing through before she interrupted. “I would like to tender my resignation and return to my previous vocation as a bounty hunter,” She said.

Following Avian’s return to Sol, he had expected her to resort to irrational behavior, but Ulysses was still at a loss for words. “I understand what you’re going through, Victoria. Believe me, I do. How many of our comrades have gotten injured or worse under my command? But running away,” He inhaled and then shook his head, “It won’t change anything. If only it did.” Sadness flickered over the man’s expression as he contemplated the comrades they all lost during the War.

Her reply was delivered in a soft, almost unintelligible voice that was a shadow of her usual spirit. “I’m not running away. After what happened to Avian, I realized that I spent more time in here than with him. So… I want to correct that mistake,” Victoria’s tone may be faint but the steel in her eyes suggested that no matter what Ulysses said, she already had her path laid out in front of her. He knew that and saw it plainly.

The royal dragoon sighed then leaned back against his seat. The two soldiers shared a moment of silence, with the grizzled old man staring at the woman’s face searching for the tiniest flicker of doubt whilst she glared back, resolute in her decision.

“Fine,” he finally acquiesced and waved his hand at her, “Do as you wish, but always remember that the Royal Dragoons are here for you. We’re your family too after all… And we have to support each other in trying times.”

Victoria’s lips quirked up into a faint smile at these words and she nodded, then left the office as quietly as she came.

Avian waited patiently as he had always done while Victoria arrived late like she always did. He wanted the date to happen on the idyllic fields outside of Sol, overlooking the two cities they both loved and strived to protect. It was stupid and sentimental, so Avian that she couldn’t help but smile when he made the request. The flowers in the meadow swayed as the wind blew and everyone turned to look as she approached the gathering. Birds chirped and flew overhead while the sun shone brightly from the skies, and as Victoria stepped within the circle of mourners she could see that the pyre was awash in golden streaks of light.

It was their ancient tradition… Cremation by dragonfire.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Victoria whispered and Gardis, her husband’s lookalike cousin, shook his head as if to say he understood, but it wasn’t really him she was talking to.

“Hmm? What are you apologizing about, sweetheart?” Avian beamed and he tilted his head to the side. “It’s fine!” They were supposed to have a dinner date but she got sidetracked by reports of thieves terrorizing the upper district. It wasn’t supposed to be her case, but Victoria volunteered just in case. The restaurant was already closing by the time she remembered and she apologized as they walked home. “I’m just glad you arrived.”

She took a deep breath and braced herself. She had to go through this alone. Neither Ellianne nor Illumine budged from their beds in days, and she just didn’t have the heart and the patience to force them to come along with her.

“Why do they call you ‘Lamia’?” He asked as she dragged him along, the handcuffs clinking in time with their footsteps. Victoria raised an eyebrow. “You don’t talk to me unless I give you permission, rebel,” She snapped then turned her back on him. The streets were clear. The huntress tugged on the chain attached to Avian’s bounds and interestingly enough, he followed obediently. “I just,” He spoke up despite her warning and she gritted her teeth in annoyance, “Think it’s a strange alias. Do you eat children or something?”

“… What?”

“The Lamia. She’s a woman with a lower body of a serpent, and was cursed to eat children. Well, some variations of the story said she did it out of her own volition, but I prefer the one where she was cursed by the gods,” He paused and smiled when she looked at him, “It’s much more interesting when you have to struggle against Heaven itself.”

The dragon standing near the pyre inhaled deeply, small licks of flame escaping from the corners of its maw.

This was it. The realization was a gut-wrenching blow. She never really believed that he was dead. Panic began to creep out from her stomach at an alarming rate. It was all a joke, right? Avian didn’t do dead. He was too good for that. It was all a stupid joke he played on her because she always took him for granted. She just played along because… because any second now, he was going to sit up and tell her how funny it was to see her face…

“Heh heh heh,” He laughed like a child while she glared daggers at him. In fact, if she had her weapons with her right now, she would have thrown real knives at that smug face. “That wasn’t funny and it was sooooo immature, A!” Victoria yelled, the color in her face rising as her voice broke pitch. Avian suddenly looked guilty; he popped out from behind the kitchen counter yelling something that sounded like “aboogabooga!” while she was getting a glass of water, and needless to say the wife wasn’t happy with the prank.

"You manchild!"

"... Ah! Don't get so mad!"

… and then apologize and offer to make dinner because she got upset… Like always.

But try as she might, she couldn’t deny that she knew from the start. With her level of intellect and perception, the fact that it wasn’t the first time she saw a corpse and then the uneasy atmosphere as she was ushered into the hospital room was enough to clue her in.

“WAIT!” Victoria called out and ran to the center of the circle, throwing herself over her husband’s body before the dragon could exhale its flames, “I’m not ready!” The great wyrm backed away respectfully and she turned her head to stare down at Avian, her hands trembling and crushing the flowers that had been placed around his body.

He was wearing the pristine burial garb of a dragon rider and there was nothing she could see from afar that told her he died in combat. Up close though, she could see the pale bruises peeking out from under his robes, and the gashes that no amount of cloth could conceal. Her lower lip quivered as she lifted him up and cradled him in her arms. He felt lighter. Misshapen.

Like a mangled ragdoll.

“You can’t go!" Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Her arms remained locked around Avian and she dreaded the moment that she would have to let him go. “You can't leave me behind, A! You promised! I can't... I can't do this by myself," Victoria hid her face in his hair, “This wasn't how our life was supposed to go…!”

How could it just end like this?

“I’m so sorry,” Victoria whispered as she rocked him back and forth, the cold from his body slowly seeping in through her clothes. Tears spilled out from her eyes when there was nothing to answer her. She had always been the one in this position, the one ignoring Avian’s voice as he shouted from the kitchen that dinner was ready, as he peered in over her shoulder and asked what she was doing, as he told her to take care with her rounds each and every day. She blocked out his voice, confident that she would have the chance to listen to it next time, and didn’t even think about how he must’ve felt not having someone he cared about reply to his words.

And now… It was too late for her to do anything but apologize.

… Right?

It took forever but Victoria finally locked down from fatigue, bound to the ground by invisible chains as the bright vermillion wyrmfire consumed everything. She did not flinch nor cough when the thick smoke rose, and was so close to the blaze that some of the mourners were alarmed that she might try and jump into it to follow after her husband.

She did not. The soldier had her eyes trained into the very core of the inferno as if she was memorizing everything down to the last cinder.

She stayed until the sun set over the horizon and the last wisps of smoke fluttered away in the wind, leaving nothing behind but a charred plot of land where there was once someone full of life, hope and happiness. As the burning light washed over her profile, Victoria raised her head, her eyes shining with determination.

The Lamia was back, and she was out for blood.

Aliquam: Cervantes Mansion

Rest was for the clean.

Maybe Lute was being paranoid, but he swore he had developed an allergic reaction to the chemicals in that stink bomb. Delilah insisted that the sensation he had of a thin sheen of grime coating his entire body was nothing but his imagination at work, but the virtuoso knew it wouldn’t hurt to be sure. The past couple of days his skin felt itchy and because of this he tried to avoid skin contact with the other members of the Pride, and instead spent what felt like hours in the bath. On the third day, Delilah decided that enough was enough and told Lute he better pick his act up or she would, Gods help her, destroy the eardrums of any and every living creature within fifteen miles.

That was pretty much a lie, but he believed it anyways.

The cook shooed the virtuoso away from the kitchen and he had no choice but to wander aimlessly through the halls. He preferred doing something, but the household staff, albeit happy to have a bit of their workload shaved off, probably felt bad having a guest dig in on the chores…

“Ah wait, wait! Where are you bringing that?” Lute waylaid a maid who was carrying a platter of fruit and learned that she was headed for Rose’s room. Oh, yeah, that’s right! “I’ll do it!” Without actually listening to the servant’s protests, the virtuoso nabbed the plate away from her and marched off. During that night, he saw her being carried towards… This way? Or maybe that way…?

Fast forward a few minutes when Lute was finally pointed to the right direction. He balanced the tray on one hand and knocked, then poked his head in. “Good morning, miss Rose. I, uh, brought fruit,” As he said this, Lute tried to push the tray through the door to show what he was talking about, but the small gap couldn’t accommodate the size of the tray and he just ended up rapping his knuckles against the woodwork. Ugh. “Do you mind if I come in?”

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