Riven Wight

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Without waiting for Ghent's response, Elayra plunged her arm back into the bag. Her movements were jerky, heated, as she tried to recall what Drust’s spare daggers looked like to call one to her from the pack’s depths. She thought he had a stiletto, but she wasn’t entirely sure if it had been his, or borrowed.
Her search and thoughts stopped at Ghent’s complaints. A Drust-worthy sneer curled over her lips as she glowered up at him.
“Would you rather just stand around in your damp underwear?” she snapped. “They need to dry. We can’t leave them behind, but they’ll make everything else in your pack wet.” Her hand closed in a fist inside Drust’s bag. Instead of grasping air, she recognized the shape of a hilt against her palm. “So shut up,” she pulled it out and pointed the sheathed tip of the dagger she'd found threateningly at Ghent, “and figure it out.”
She slapped the top flap of Drust’s bag shut. She looked to the stiletto dagger as she slid the blade from its thin metal and leather scabbard, examining it with a critical eye.
It was nice enough, she supposed. The silvery metal turned the hilt into a spiral, ending in a small, elegant round pummel. Its blade’s length matched what she’d grown accustomed to, only significantly thinner. Its edges glinted in the sunlight, sharp enough for use, but, in Elayra’s eye, it was due for a date with a whetstone.
She tested its weight in her hand. Even with its entire metal construction, it felt lighter than her lost weapon. It felt… wrong. Like she was betraying her other dagger. Betraying the trust of who it once belonged to. More importantly, betrayed Drust by losing it.
Her lips tightened and she gripped the hilt and scabbard harder. It shouldn’t matter this much to her. Not like this, at any rate. And yet, it did.
Until the moment Ghent had confirmed the news, Elayra hadn’t realized exactly how much she cared where the dagger had come from. Or, perhaps, it was the when. A right of passage of knowing Drust trusted her enough to pass on such a fine, meaningful weapon to her. It felt as if she'd lost some small part of herself.
With a growling huff at her unwanted emotions, she threw the stiletto toward the first-aid box. The force embedded over half its blade into the earth an inch from the box. Right where she’d aimed. At least its balance was decent enough for throwing.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra shivered as the chilled water rose up to her mid-chest. She waded through the stream to start her search closer to where she and Ghent had surfaced. She took a few more deep breaths, preparing her body for another plunge into the airless world beneath her, then dove down into the gently rushing current.
Still already chilled from her first plunge, the water wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. She forced herself to sink to the bottom, her natural buoyancy making it difficult for her to remain at the river bed. She kept her eyes open, searching for any hint of blue among the blurry murky brown.
She stayed under as long as she could, running her hand over the mud and sand. She held onto anything that felt or looked even remotely like her dagger, or like it could be of any other value to them.
When her chest warned her she needed to head for the surface, she planted her feet beneath her and stood. Sucking in a deep breath, she frowned at the haul of her first attempt. Nothing but a couple broken sticks that had lodged themselves into the mud. Tossing them to the bank furiously, she dove back under.
She lost count of how many times she went down. Small fish occasionally attacked her, but, without teeth, they couldn't do much, even in larger schools. Despite their minor distraction, she picked through the earth carefully, thoroughly. She found many large, loose rocks as she went, rocks she suspected were the evidence of the death that had occurred beneath the surface.
Her heart sank every time she came up empty. Only garbage of lost cities and nature's detritus found its way to her to be unearthed. Her anger grew along with her pile of useless litter.
By the time she’d reached at least a yard beyond the ruins of the bridge, her lungs were spent. Her chest ached from holding her breath for so long so often. Her eyes stung, though she'd given up keeping them open under the water after the first few dives.
With an angered growl, she tossed her most recent find—the backing of a hand mirror, its metal tarnished and covered in gooey weeds and mirror missing—onto the bank. It was useless. And not just the mirror. Despite the weight of her dagger, somehow, it had floated down the stream beyond her reach. The terraflame had frantically stirred the water; she supposed the vines of its tongue could have caught the weapon, dragging it down the agitated current.
Cracked bottles. Rusted cans. The rotting remains of a couple clothing items too decayed to identify. Sticks. Broken hilts. It all created an uneven trail down the riverbank to where Elayra puled herself out of the water.
Face twisted in a frustrated, angered snarl, she trudged back toward Ghent and their things. Some part of her knew it was unfair to blame him. But she hadn't been the one to lose it. He hadn't needed both his hands to get to the surface. But still, the featherhead had dropped it to the mercy of the river, like it was nothing more than a disposable butter knife.
She kicked her finds back into the water as she went, eliminating the evidence of her presence. A few of the bottles shattered from the force, returning to the stream in a glittering rain of shards. The first can made a loud tang that made her flinch. She glanced around, making sure it hadn't aroused any unwanted attention, then made it a point to roll the other couple cans softly back into the water. As minor as it was, she enjoyed the small outlet for her frustration.
She took a few slow breaths, trying to calm herself, to keep her fury at bay. Though she suspected the terraflames were an isolated incident, she needed to keep herself in check.
Socks squelching in her boots, she ignored Ghent as she stopped beside Drust’s pack. She kicked off her ruined shoes, knelt on the grass, then reached inside the Knight’s bag. She paused, finally looking to Ghent. Her scowl deepened as she took him in, gauging how much his clothes had dried. At least it looked like he'd taken care of his wounds as she'd ordered.
“Your clothes need to dry,” she grumbled. She pulled a pair of trousers from the pack. Their ends were crudely tailored to better suit Drust’s height, the fabric worn and rough. “Take yours off and put them in the sun.” She tossed the pair of pants to him with more force than necessary. “Drust should be back soon, but use these for now.”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

What bit of camaraderie that had come over Elayra vanished instantly at Ghent’s expression to her request. Her gaze darkened as he put on a show of searching for the dagger.
If he lost it, I swear— Ghent cut off her thought with the confirmation of exactly that.
“You dropped it?!” Anger rose in her chest, drowning out the hint of geniality—or at least as close to it as she’d come in years—from only a moment ago. His simple, uncaring shrug and the ego-wrenching reminder of her near-death experience only stoked the hot emotion.
She stood quickly, glaring at Ghent.
“What? Don’t you have another one you can use?”
She ground her teeth, fists clenching at her sides. She tore her gaze from him and looked to the stream, staring as if her will alone could call the dagger back to her. But, of course, it couldn’t. What bit of magic it held wouldn't bring it back to her. Sure, Drust had a couple extras in his bag she was sure he wouldn’t mind her using to replace it. But none of those meant anything to her. They were nothing but spoils of war. Easily traded or replaced. What value the lost weapon had to her didn’t reside in having a monetary value among Omitten, but in where it had come from.
“You idiotic—” She cut herself off with a hasty glance to the trees.
She looked to the ground with a huff, scrunching her eyes shut. She took a deep breath, trying fruitlessly to calm herself. The female terraflame may not return, but there was no guarantee others weren’t close enough to sense the presence of one of its favorite meals.
Hands still fisted at her sides, she strode to where she’d dropped her sword in the fight. Retrieving it, she kept its tip lowered as she returned to Ghent. If she wanted to find her dagger, she couldn’t waste time rummaging for another in Drust’s bag. She tossed the double-edged saber to the ground near Ghent's feet without meeting his gaze. The blue blade glinted in the light as it landed with a dull thud, a couple pieces of grass succumbing to its sharpness.
“Use that to cut a swath of the bandage,” she ordered bitterly through her teeth. “If you think you can manage to not lose it, anyway,” she added with a sneer. “Get the cloth damp with the moondrop milk. Dab it on your wounds.” She stepped around their stuff and headed toward the stream. “It's a disinfectant, and will speed up healing enough to clot the bleeding.”
She hesitated near the edge of the water. Nerves made her stomach churn at the thought of going back under there. Of willingly giving herself to the element that had nearly stolen her last breath.
Her fists tightened, her anger turning instead toward the water and herself. She would not let it frighten her. It was just water, after all. And this time, she’d be entering it on her own terms.
Taking a deep breath, she took the last couple steps to the gently burbling stream.

Blood Trails (Siaya-Dragalorn x AutumnFrost)

Eli’s eyes narrowed in the short silence that fell as William collected his response. The tapping of the agent’s finger quickened impatiently, a short, nearly imperceptible pause every third tap. When the other man finally responded, Eli’s perpetual scowl deepened at William’s repeated name request.
Taya glanced to William and cleared her throat, trying to indicate for him to answer the more pressing matter. Though she’d learned to deal with her partner’s personality quirks—and couldn’t help but enjoy, to at least some extent, how much William’s presence seemed to agitate Eli—she’d rather spare William from dealing with more of Archer’s attitude than necessary.
Eli snorted at William's vague answer to his question.
Taya opened her mouth to kindly voice the unspoken request for elaboration from William, when the supposed werewolf raised a hand, cutting her off.
Eli’s icy blue gaze flicked toward the door, following William’s nearly immediately. His tapping paused. His head bent forward slightly in suspicion. Taya swore she saw his gloved hand twitch for the gun hidden beneath his jacket at his belt.
“Is everything—?” Before Taya could finish her question, the door opened, drawing her attention. Her brows raised as Lucy entered with their drinks balanced on a small tray. She looked to William, intrigued curiosity glittering in her eyes.
Taya gave a distracted smile in thanks to Lucy as the waitress placed her drink in front of her. The agent glanced subtly toward the door, trying to figure out if William’s prediction was a trick of observation or a show of the supposed super hearing rumored to be possessed by werewolves.
“Privacy,” Eli snapped in answer to the waitress. “If we need something before their orders arrive, we’ll find you.” He waved dismissively at Lucy, shooing her toward the door.
Taya glared at him, but he ignored it as blatantly as he did the waitress’ indignant expression.
“Sorry, Luce,” she offered, giving the other girl an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind him. I’m still working on his people skills.” She knew it was unprofessional, but the indubitable reprimand that awaited her for it would be worth it. Business or not, there was no reason to be rude to servers.
Lucey gave her an uneasy smile.
“Excuse me?” Eli growled, looking to Taya. His glower only confirmed she’d be getting an earful the moment they were alone.
It was Taya’s turn to ignore him. “This is more than enough,” she tapped the top of her glass, “thanks! Like he said, though, it’d be great if we could get a bit of extra privacy once our food’s done,” she reiterated, as if giving an example of the polite version of Eli’s demand would help it sink in.
Taya watched Lucy leave. She stared after her for a moment, taking note of the slight shadow just visible beneath the door as the waitress walked away. A hint of disappointment dusted over her. So that must have been how he’d known Lucy was coming. Of course.
Her attention shifted back to William as he sighed. His demeanor had completely shifted, as if the weight of the case they’d met to investigate had finally settled on his shoulders. He looked genuinely troubled.
Taya took the moment to unwrap her straw and put it in her own glass. Eli pulled off his right black leather glove, revealing a jagged scar in a rough X on top of it. Using his freed fingers, he pinched the tab of the teabag steeping in his mug. He bobbed it around in the steaming water, finally putting a small effort in hiding his impatience at the wait for a full answer from William.
When, at last, William elaborated on his vague response, Eli gave a grunt in confirmation. Taya nodded solemnly. The weight of that number alone made her heart sink. And was yet another reason the bureau had grown more than willing to ‘help bridge the gap between human and the rumored werewolf’ on this case. Any little bit helped. Even if it meant using crazy to find crazy.
“Eighteen as of today,” Taya corrected dismally.
“Anthony Cormack was found similarly mutilated in an alley behind his office building,” Eli picked up for her. “The janitor discovered him around five this morning while taking trash out. The coroner’s estimated his time of death to be around three a.m., but the recent temperatures make it difficult to be certain.”
Eli slid the folder across the table to William. A folder housing a detailed summery of each homicide and potential related kidnapping.
“It’s believed he tried to fight back; forensics found some hair trapped under his fingernails,” Eli continued, sitting back in his chair. “They’re testing it as we speak.” He lifted the dripping teabag from the mug and placed it at the edge of the plate beneath the cup. “A detail about each murder that’s been kept from the public is each victim’s heart was missing. I suspect they were taken as a trophy, or as proof of the kill.”
Taya suppressed a shudder at how impassively Eli spoke about the man’s death. No remorse. No obvious compassion. It simply was to him, just another case, another body, another murderer to get off the street. She knew he’d taken on a record amount of cases, but to grow so calloused to it that it became something as casually discussed as the day’s weather was unimaginable to her.
“Or to further prove a point,” Taya added, disgustedly. “It’s a part of certain werewolf lore. Which is where you come in, William. If they’re trying to mimic a werewolf attack—or if it is werewolves doing this,” she added awkwardly, gaining a snort from Eli, “then you’re more qualified to make that call.”

Blood Trails (Siaya-Dragalorn x AutumnFrost)

Ha! Well, I should hope you find him adorable! A mom's supposed to be biased.

I currently have a friend in town, but will get to work on a reply a.s.a.p.! She's a writer/roleplayer, too, so writing time isn't out of the picture during her visit. :-)

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

[Internet hiccup double post. See above.]

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

That's great! I hope it works out with that architect. If not, I wish you the best in finding a Plan B!

Oh, no worries! I appreciate you letting me know, but as always, no rush. That's great you've gotten to spend time with friends and family like that! I hope you've been enjoying yourself with your company! Get to do a lot of things with them out and about, what with school and life? I actually have a friend visiting from out of town as well right now. She's pretty chill, though, and a writer/roleplayer as well, so it's been quite wonderful rather than hectic. Heh.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra glanced up to Ghent at his news about pet rocks. Her brows raised slightly at his listless tone. If he wasn’t joking about the apparent similarity, Elayra wondered if maybe they weren’t the best of pets on Earth, either.
She removed the large wooden box of their first aid kit from her pack. Her thumb brushed over where one of the many nicks in the worn wood overlapped with a scorch mark as she sat it down on the grass. She unlatched and flipped the lid open, revealing a roll of tightly-wound bandages inside. A half empty vial of milky liquid sat beside it, cushioned by a bed of tattered fabric.
Reaching back inside her pack, a few clothing items and a fabric belt followed the box. She carefully placed them in a heap on a dryer patch of grass beside her.
Ghent again gained her attention with his offer to guard their packs. She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. Realization dawned in her gray eyes as her gaze flicked down to the clothes then back to him.
She shook her head once. She inhaled to respond, but Ghent spoke again. She blinked at him incredulously, questioning whether she’d heard him correctly. Had he really just apologized?
Her mouth opened once, then closed again, unsure how to respond. An apology was the last thing she’d expected from him. An excuse, perhaps, or to just continue on with their day, pretending nothing had happened, sure. But not an actual ‘Sorry.’
She turned her head from him and closed her eyes. As much as a part of her appreciated the apology…
“There isn't time to be sorry here,” she began, her voice hard and the corner of her lips and nose pulled up bitterly. “You do, you deal with the consequences, and you learn. Fast, if you know what's good for you,” she added, her voice falling into a dark quiet as she finished.
She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes to meet his. Banishing her dourness as if it had never happened, a smirk settled on her lips.
“But, like I said, you know to clean up your messes, muttonbrain.” Her expression warmed slightly into a gentler smile. But it faded as she carefully rubbed at her neck, streaks of the watery blood staining her skin and soaking into her collar.
“I suppose you're not the absolute worst companion we could've wound up with,” she continued slowly, as if tasting each word and trying to decide whether they were bitter or sweet on her tongue. Or, more importantly, whether they were a teasing lie or reluctant truth. “I'd choose you over a shadowmire any day!” An impish smirk again spread over her face and glittered in her eyes.
With a sigh, Elayra wiped her hand on her shirt then closed her pack.
“Take care of our thorn bites first.” She nodded to the wooden box’s contents. “Then worry about changing. We don’t want fresh blood on our clothes. It could put the townsfolk on our trail quicker.”
She reached into the box and grabbed the wad of bandages. She unrolled a portion of them, then reached instinctively for her dagger in her soggy boot to cut a small length from the rest.
A second of confusion made panic well in her chest at not finding the weapon. She exhaled heavily as she remembered she’d given it to Ghent. Or he’d taken it. She wasn’t entirely sure, but either way, he’d used it to free her.
“My dagger?” She reached a hand out toward Ghent, palm up, waiting expectantly.

Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

Take your time! Oh, gosh, yep. I know how that goes. Hopefully, since the major holidays are done, I'll actually have more time and inspiration to get replies in quicker.

Oh! That's fantastic that you're almost done! Congrats! Do you have any places in mind already that you want to apply at? Or are you going to look into that more the closer you get to May?

Blood Trails (Siaya-Dragalorn x AutumnFrost)

And congratulations again with becoming a mother! I bet your little one's been keeping you rather busy. Heh. Glad I at least had decent timing! I'll try to not make you wait that long again. Holidays are over, so I should have a bit more time to respond to things now.

Well, I meant more compared to how long I took. I was just like, "It took me that long for just that many words?!" *Facepalm.* That type thing. :-) Inspiration can be annoying.