Valorae had been busy grudging Linellia over new crosses before even thinking of the old ones. That was before she spoke to her about it. It didn’t surprise her much that Darian - Craevan, she’d discover that truth eventually - would be leading them. It started to seem more like his job anyway than the rest. Two distractions, a lock pick, and Darian. We’re tools she thought. She didn’t have much intent of that becoming fact though. Ms. Ferral spoke to her then, and she stared in utter disbelief.
She didn’t care about the insults. She was stupid, she absolutely was for not just listening, and realizing all of this before. The more Linellia spoke the more she began to tremble with a myriad of emotions. She couldn’t possibly mean, in the entire city, him? Would she have her chance, her exact act of – no. No, just not yet. The looming threat that would soon settle over Schancke was agreeable though. And above all, it would be her doing. She accepted being tool now, only her purpose wasn’t distracting. Oh by the Gods no it was not!
Linellia’s words had a great impact on Valorae’s body. First the confusion and rising frustrations, then the cold stare of absolution of what purpose she had given herself. But no, the final absolution of this night was only a taste of the bloody forsaken vengeance she had sworn. The whites of her eyes were blocked out after the initial shock, the hairs on her body fell back to her body, and her loose lips, let loose by the initial drama of it all, the unbelievable news, tightened, and tightened some more. The faintest curl of sadism crossed her face. They might have sworn she laughed. Laughed!
He will die a thousand times over…
She half-wittedly listened to the rest of her orders. The promises of rewards were great, but there was something much more meaningful a stake. Life? Yes, but a just life as well. She had a chance before her now to reach that summit, to have his head on a spear posted over the city. It’d be a war banner against all of these vile tasteless fiends who deserved to burn, burn in a fire hotter than the flaming slag heap that burned against the sky. They would all perish in, horrible deaths of inexplicable pain that would make them beg and holler with inhumane howls to take him, take the other one, their most beloved or otherwise. Still it would be them; they would be cauterized from this sore on the world. it was time, her time.
*** She gladly gathered her new skin and molded it to her form. The intensity that now filled her eyes was unsettling. She looked strange indeed, and no matter what the boys all heard none of them could understand. She contorted her body in every conventional way she might have use for one in full suit. Her blind spots were covered, and she was ready. The next hour of her life was torture in itself. She didn’t even consider the time she’d have to spend, waiting, and waiting for the next time to strike at him. She hoped that his suffering like this would be comparatively worth the suffering she endured, the suffering she lived with every day and night, in every thought and dream. Finally, she’d have him, hollow and hardened, just to smash his disgusting face into a million shards of nothing. Less than nothing even, she’d make him less than nothing.
The thought of the mission intrigued her. Obviously, the safety of the party and success of the mission was the priority, but she couldn’t pick safes. She’d need some reason to either look for this old man, or convince Darian – Craevan – that he was an asset. She’s right, it would so damn unfortunate for other property to be…mishandled. Loose ends! A thought Darian could surely agree with. The last thing they needed, even as an organization – an organization she was intent on being a part of – it would be beneficial. Anyone who patrolled those woods, who oversaw those fields, who happened to handle the contents in question, must be removed from the design. How she’d propose this idea to Darian was an entirely different mountain to climb.
Still, she would. She had to. Once she did, and she had him to herself… Well, she’d have him all to herself. An old man, it’s funny that he’d be the cause of so much suffering for other girls like her. He must not be so amusing to go on without his son. She wondered how he died, and how she could have him relive that. Though perhaps not; perhaps there were better means of, if she was so dark to suggest it, purification? She’d do what had been done to her. She’d strip him down to nothing, drain him of all he was, and then fill him with the unsightly truth of the matter: that he is not alone. What would come after that was something a bit more personal. Valorae’s first goal to help the old man understand her. He’d need to understand what she was there for, and maybe then – though she’d have it no other way – he’d see things her way, and help enlighten her.
She was overly anxious with the thought of holding a sword in her hand. Not a wooden toy to spar with, but a real metallic blade. She could almost hear the dream-spawned hum of the sword’s vibrating body as it would strike. It almost made her vibrate in the good way. Her own methodology of swordsmanship kept coming up. Head, neck, heart – head, neck heart… She knew how to land a kill shot, and it stopped there. That was the other part of the anxiety: real combat. The promise she held was to be tested in this single instance. If she lived through it, by her captors’ demands, she might get to make such a decision again. The outcomes played through her head, most of which were her own death. She needed to keep her guard up, or else.
The threat of death, although an ever-present event, was weighted above most other threats of pain or dismembering. She hoped that wouldn’t be the outcome. A solemn look crossed her face for the remainder of the ride. Not much longer really… It brought up a question though. Where would she be if this were to be it, the finale of her short time back on Mizahar? Syna would not possibly return her to her good graces in the Ukalas… She didn’t want to be born back into this world at all. Sunberth had become such a shit hole; she couldn’t imagine the rest of it. Taloba even might be a wreck. It was incredible she remembered as much as she did. Part of her remembers a world divided in two, civilizations on the brink of war. As for the other part, she witnessed destruction. This must be the aftermath of it all. A world of man at war ended like this? It must have been very poor to live through.
She wanted someone to pray to, to know someone was watching over her. As the sun curled over the sky, which then fell to darkness, then there would be no Syna, even now that she was back in full view. Leth showed no interest in her either, it seemed. A lover’s scorn maybe? A lover of the one Valorae once loved, at the least. For the moment she had these three. Her prayer was one of faith in fate. She prayed she’d not die this night, and that these three young men would prevent that if needed. She knew the carriage was slowing to its stop; it was time. She rushed the prayer to closure.
*** The escorts words of encouragement didn’t faze her much. She was focused. Darian’s command was answered by a single nod. She retrieved her blade and stood in wonder. It was a bit heavier, but the edge was so sharp. The point was perfect for her cause too. She let it swing through the air, clear of anyone’s reach, and tried to get a feel for it before they were to charge in. The sheath was in her other hand - a counterbalance. The hard leather might help her at some point. In a swift motion she lined it back along such a sheath and placed the blade in it firmly. It was secured to her person and she was ready to march out. She nearly went right into the fields without his command before turning back to him. She gave a look he must understand. Daylight was burning, and it would be terrible to maneuver through the fields at night. They wanted to be ready to enter by such a time. Time, an ever present factor, was not necessarily in their favor. |