Chapter 87: 87
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(Serena's perspective)
The moment I open my eyes, I jolt into action. Pinged back into the world of the living, to the gloomy darkness that seethe with long-legged monsters and visions of white hair that streak across my vision like meteors on a course of destruction through the inky sky- my sword is out of its sheath quicker than poor Kal can even fully realise what is going on, waving the silver blade frantically from side to side like a madman springing from the forest. My eye's spin wildly and unseeing.
The sound of cracking china resounds around the room with a painfully loud echo, and if my heart had not been beating at a million miles per hour, I might just have had the nerve to wince. Might have because the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body from my rude and all too sudden jolt back to reality has me more awake than an elf after a shot of vodka.
"Great," Kal sighs sarcastically, throwing up his hands in loathsome disappointment as he stands over the mess of broken glass plates at his feet, a warm puddle of tea oozing out onto the carpet from the now ruined black and gold teapot. The urge to recede back into myself suddenly takes a hold of my body, and I shrink back noiselessly against the shadows. Kal's laments continue in spiteful disregard.
"Just great. That was Fangorn's favourite you know. Put down your sword, little Queen, there is no need for such ghastly manners in this household. Tch!" he grumbles, knees cracking as he bends down to scoop the shards of glass carefully into his gloved hand, placing the larger pieces in the crook of his elbow in a mad act of balance. It is hard to tell in the dim light of the room, but if I look closely enough, I could have sworn he is shaking. Though from anger, or worry, I cannot tell.
"Where am I?" I ask slowly, hesitant to play into the hands of the seemingly foul mood brewing in the form that is Kal. He looks up from the floor, swiping a free hand back past the mess of blacky-blue hair that has flopped in an elegant disarray in front of his eyes, the tips of his mouth pulled down into a light frown. He sniffs.
"I thought they said you were clever, little Queen," he rolls his eyes jokingly, and goes back to picking up broken pottery, soaking up the wetness on the floor with a handkerchief that he fishes out meticulously from his back pocket. I lower my sword, my shoulders easing. So he isn't angry- at least not entirely. I suppose that is much better than I hoped.
"I don't ever recall anyone saying I was clever," I grin a little now, bending down to help Kal pick up the little remaining scraps from the floor, to which he gives his thanks in the form of a deep bow of his head. "Though I have definitely been called rash before. Apologies Kal, I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble," I apologise shyly, rubbing my hand behind my neck, eyes pinpointed on the floor to avoid my face flushing red with embarrassment. He waves me off.
"If I woke up in a strange place, I probably would have done the same. Besides, it's all fixable, see?" he insists, setting the array of broken china down on a large oak table in the centre of the room, and with one momentary wink in my direction, snaps his fingers. I blink, a sudden bright light flashing before my eyes, burning the back of my retinas enough for me to see sparks dance before my vision like fairies over a lake at twilight. I stumble back again, shielding my face with my hands.
By the time the light has dissipated back into the low-light of the murky room, Kal's finger snapping has already worked its magic. On the table, a new tea set is laid out across the red table cloth-shining as if new, and Kal splays his hands proudly before him to indicate the magnificent finery of his magic, beaming joyfully as he wiggles his eyebrows upon seeing the shocked look on my face.
"That's the same tea set!" I gasp, amazed, half tempted to rub my eyes to ensure I am not just dreaming it up- reconstruction magic is rare, especially in its complete form like this. I nod my approval to Kal. "Young sir, you are going to have to teach me your magic, that spell would save me from a lot of hairy predicaments."
He moves round, drawing himself up a seat at the table as he thoughtfully pours himself a cup of tea from the now refilled tea pot, cradling the steaming cup in his hands, leaching off its warmth with a visible shudder. His wings spread out loosely behind him, the picture of casual nonchalance, and I wonder with a brief tilt of my head exactly how long he has been living here.
"No can do, little Queen, a dragon never shares his magic. And for your information, I am not young, either. In fact, I might be there and about half your Soren's age." I raise my eyebrow.
"Well would you like me to call you 'old sir' instead then?"
He bites his lip, tilting his head to one side as he takes another long sip of tea. After a timely pause, he mutters.
"Not particularly, no."
Smiling, I pull up a seat next to him, taking the much needed time to soak in my surroundings, and process all the happenings going on around me- including that of my strange, newfound ability. That and...
A convulsing shudder quakes through the disks of my spine as Soren's words resound through my body like the heavy beat of a funeral drum.
Azrael wasn't born with a soul of power.
Screams and white haired visions flit in the murky depths of my brains, rising and falling in a song of inharmonious melody- a depressing labyrinth of stone, overrun with moss and vines, and a white flame glowing in its crystalline sheath, stained with icy fingerprints. I clutch my head with a wince, stifling a groan, and then just like that the vision dissipates, flitting like a bat out into the oblivion of the night- as if it were never their to begin with.
Kal's hand on my shoulder jolts me back to reality.
"Are you alright, little Queen?"
I nod my head, eager not to seem dazed but finding it equally hard to seem not so.
"Fine," I say curtly.
We appear to be in some sort of house, the walls layered up with ornate wallpapers and illuminated by a series of candlesticks that jut out from the side of the wall like the horns of a ram. We appear to be in a dining room, decorated with a lavish fireplace and a grand assortment of books stacked high in a bookcase in one corner of the room. There are cabinets full of dining wear, and in one particularly large wooden cabinet, it seems to be filled with endless reams of tightly bound letters, all compacted into the cabinet to the point that if I went over there and opened it, I am sure the letters would all burst out.
I can only assume who their correspondence is to.
It is a fairly nice room considering that we must be somewhere deep inside the end, a place where resources are just as scarce and valuable as the monsters are wicked and deadly. I muse quietly to myself, smiling inwardly. Soren would surely fit right in. The thought of it calms me a little.
"Say, Kal, how long was I out for?" I ask curiously, visably composing myself, swivelling myself round to face the youthful dragon boy who has since begun pouring himself yet another cup of tea, offering me one silently with a lift of the teapot and a raise of his brows. He pours me out a cup slowly and I watch as the liquid drains into the cup, filling it up to the brim. After a moment of fleeting hesitation, I take it.
"You must have been out fifteen minutes or so. You started glowing for a bit, but your friend Ithuriel assures me that that is indeed a thing you do, and I wouldn't need to douse you in a bucket of water in the event of you spontaneously combusting."
My fingers tap a nervous tempo on the side of my china cup, a nervous energy brewing in the pit of my stomach. My mind flits back to Soren, to the high boned curves of his face, the comforting amber glow of his eyes that seem to quell all fear in me into little more that a distant memory, and the sturdy tightness of his cold embrace as he presses his body into mine, his arms wrapped around my waist as if I am suddenly the only thing left in the world. I latch onto the thought- that lulling memory, and hold it there. My nervous energy subsides.
"I didn't… say anything, did I?" I add quickly, suddenly becoming very interesting in the artificial elk head hanging above the door frame on the wall. Curiosity is practically dripping from Kal's voice.
"No, why?"
I take another long, hearty sip from my cup, hoping desperately the steamy smoke billowing in up around my will be enough to hide the reddening of my face.
Soren hadn't exactly behaved himself in our little one to one- and neither had I. I take another sip.
"No reason."
Just as I can feel my insides beginning to combust from self humiliation, who should into the room but the very man we had come to meet, followed closely by Ithuriel who- I notice, leaning back with a tone of surprise, is in his human form, and dressed in a long, sweeping kimono, poised and as elegant as always. They always were his favourite things to wear.
"I thought I told you not to lie, Kal," says the man's deep voice, a rocky gravelly tone, deep and bittered from the hard years of solitude, yet carrying the tender affection of a father to his son- scolding in a way that didn't really imply anger. Kal, looking over towards the towering figure of the man, grimaces.
"Well, were you going to tell her she was having a full blown conversation with a non existent Soren and- sorry about this honey- moaning? Because I certainly wasn't about to."
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(Serena's perspective)
The moment I open my eyes, I jolt into action. Pinged back into the world of the living, to the gloomy darkness that seethe with long-legged monsters and visions of white hair that streak across my vision like meteors on a course of destruction through the inky sky- my sword is out of its sheath quicker than poor Kal can even fully realise what is going on, waving the silver blade frantically from side to side like a madman springing from the forest. My eye's spin wildly and unseeing.
The sound of cracking china resounds around the room with a painfully loud echo, and if my heart had not been beating at a million miles per hour, I might just have had the nerve to wince. Might have because the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body from my rude and all too sudden jolt back to reality has me more awake than an elf after a shot of vodka.
"Great," Kal sighs sarcastically, throwing up his hands in loathsome disappointment as he stands over the mess of broken glass plates at his feet, a warm puddle of tea oozing out onto the carpet from the now ruined black and gold teapot. The urge to recede back into myself suddenly takes a hold of my body, and I shrink back noiselessly against the shadows. Kal's laments continue in spiteful disregard.
"Just great. That was Fangorn's favourite you know. Put down your sword, little Queen, there is no need for such ghastly manners in this household. Tch!" he grumbles, knees cracking as he bends down to scoop the shards of glass carefully into his gloved hand, placing the larger pieces in the crook of his elbow in a mad act of balance. It is hard to tell in the dim light of the room, but if I look closely enough, I could have sworn he is shaking. Though from anger, or worry, I cannot tell.
"Where am I?" I ask slowly, hesitant to play into the hands of the seemingly foul mood brewing in the form that is Kal. He looks up from the floor, swiping a free hand back past the mess of blacky-blue hair that has flopped in an elegant disarray in front of his eyes, the tips of his mouth pulled down into a light frown. He sniffs.
"I thought they said you were clever, little Queen," he rolls his eyes jokingly, and goes back to picking up broken pottery, soaking up the wetness on the floor with a handkerchief that he fishes out meticulously from his back pocket. I lower my sword, my shoulders easing. So he isn't angry- at least not entirely. I suppose that is much better than I hoped.
"I don't ever recall anyone saying I was clever," I grin a little now, bending down to help Kal pick up the little remaining scraps from the floor, to which he gives his thanks in the form of a deep bow of his head. "Though I have definitely been called rash before. Apologies Kal, I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble," I apologise shyly, rubbing my hand behind my neck, eyes pinpointed on the floor to avoid my face flushing red with embarrassment. He waves me off.
"If I woke up in a strange place, I probably would have done the same. Besides, it's all fixable, see?" he insists, setting the array of broken china down on a large oak table in the centre of the room, and with one momentary wink in my direction, snaps his fingers. I blink, a sudden bright light flashing before my eyes, burning the back of my retinas enough for me to see sparks dance before my vision like fairies over a lake at twilight. I stumble back again, shielding my face with my hands.
By the time the light has dissipated back into the low-light of the murky room, Kal's finger snapping has already worked its magic. On the table, a new tea set is laid out across the red table cloth-shining as if new, and Kal splays his hands proudly before him to indicate the magnificent finery of his magic, beaming joyfully as he wiggles his eyebrows upon seeing the shocked look on my face.
"That's the same tea set!" I gasp, amazed, half tempted to rub my eyes to ensure I am not just dreaming it up- reconstruction magic is rare, especially in its complete form like this. I nod my approval to Kal. "Young sir, you are going to have to teach me your magic, that spell would save me from a lot of hairy predicaments."
He moves round, drawing himself up a seat at the table as he thoughtfully pours himself a cup of tea from the now refilled tea pot, cradling the steaming cup in his hands, leaching off its warmth with a visible shudder. His wings spread out loosely behind him, the picture of casual nonchalance, and I wonder with a brief tilt of my head exactly how long he has been living here.
"No can do, little Queen, a dragon never shares his magic. And for your information, I am not young, either. In fact, I might be there and about half your Soren's age." I raise my eyebrow.
"Well would you like me to call you 'old sir' instead then?"
He bites his lip, tilting his head to one side as he takes another long sip of tea. After a timely pause, he mutters.
"Not particularly, no."
Smiling, I pull up a seat next to him, taking the much needed time to soak in my surroundings, and process all the happenings going on around me- including that of my strange, newfound ability. That and...
A convulsing shudder quakes through the disks of my spine as Soren's words resound through my body like the heavy beat of a funeral drum.
Azrael wasn't born with a soul of power.
Screams and white haired visions flit in the murky depths of my brains, rising and falling in a song of inharmonious melody- a depressing labyrinth of stone, overrun with moss and vines, and a white flame glowing in its crystalline sheath, stained with icy fingerprints. I clutch my head with a wince, stifling a groan, and then just like that the vision dissipates, flitting like a bat out into the oblivion of the night- as if it were never their to begin with.
Kal's hand on my shoulder jolts me back to reality.
"Are you alright, little Queen?"
I nod my head, eager not to seem dazed but finding it equally hard to seem not so.
"Fine," I say curtly.
We appear to be in some sort of house, the walls layered up with ornate wallpapers and illuminated by a series of candlesticks that jut out from the side of the wall like the horns of a ram. We appear to be in a dining room, decorated with a lavish fireplace and a grand assortment of books stacked high in a bookcase in one corner of the room. There are cabinets full of dining wear, and in one particularly large wooden cabinet, it seems to be filled with endless reams of tightly bound letters, all compacted into the cabinet to the point that if I went over there and opened it, I am sure the letters would all burst out.
I can only assume who their correspondence is to.
It is a fairly nice room considering that we must be somewhere deep inside the end, a place where resources are just as scarce and valuable as the monsters are wicked and deadly. I muse quietly to myself, smiling inwardly. Soren would surely fit right in. The thought of it calms me a little.
"Say, Kal, how long was I out for?" I ask curiously, visably composing myself, swivelling myself round to face the youthful dragon boy who has since begun pouring himself yet another cup of tea, offering me one silently with a lift of the teapot and a raise of his brows. He pours me out a cup slowly and I watch as the liquid drains into the cup, filling it up to the brim. After a moment of fleeting hesitation, I take it.
"You must have been out fifteen minutes or so. You started glowing for a bit, but your friend Ithuriel assures me that that is indeed a thing you do, and I wouldn't need to douse you in a bucket of water in the event of you spontaneously combusting."
My fingers tap a nervous tempo on the side of my china cup, a nervous energy brewing in the pit of my stomach. My mind flits back to Soren, to the high boned curves of his face, the comforting amber glow of his eyes that seem to quell all fear in me into little more that a distant memory, and the sturdy tightness of his cold embrace as he presses his body into mine, his arms wrapped around my waist as if I am suddenly the only thing left in the world. I latch onto the thought- that lulling memory, and hold it there. My nervous energy subsides.
"I didn't… say anything, did I?" I add quickly, suddenly becoming very interesting in the artificial elk head hanging above the door frame on the wall. Curiosity is practically dripping from Kal's voice.
"No, why?"
I take another long, hearty sip from my cup, hoping desperately the steamy smoke billowing in up around my will be enough to hide the reddening of my face.
Soren hadn't exactly behaved himself in our little one to one- and neither had I. I take another sip.
"No reason."
Just as I can feel my insides beginning to combust from self humiliation, who should into the room but the very man we had come to meet, followed closely by Ithuriel who- I notice, leaning back with a tone of surprise, is in his human form, and dressed in a long, sweeping kimono, poised and as elegant as always. They always were his favourite things to wear.
"I thought I told you not to lie, Kal," says the man's deep voice, a rocky gravelly tone, deep and bittered from the hard years of solitude, yet carrying the tender affection of a father to his son- scolding in a way that didn't really imply anger. Kal, looking over towards the towering figure of the man, grimaces.
"Well, were you going to tell her she was having a full blown conversation with a non existent Soren and- sorry about this honey- moaning? Because I certainly wasn't about to."
Serena's perspectiveThe moment I open my eyes, I jolt into action. Pinged back into the world of the living, to the gloomy darkness that seethe with long-legged monsters and visions of white hair that streak across my vision like meteors on a course of destruction through the inky sky- my sword is out of its sheath quicker than poor Kal can even fully realise what is going on, waving the silver blade frantically from side to side like a madman springing from the forest. My eye's spin wildly and unseeing.The sound of cracking china resounds around the room with a painfully loud echo, and if my heart had not been beating at a million miles per hour, I might just have had the nerve to wince. Might have because the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body from my rude and all too sudden jolt back to reality has me more awake than an elf after a shot of vodka."Great," Kal sighs sarcastically, throwing up his hands in loathsome disappointment as he stands over the mess of broken glass plates at his feet, a warm puddle of tea oozing out onto the carpet from the now ruined black and gold teapot. The urge to recede back into myself suddenly takes a hold of my body, and I shrink back noiselessly against the shadows. Kal's laments continue in spiteful disregard."Just great. That was Fangorn's favourite you know. Put down your sword, little Queen, there is no need for such ghastly manners in this household. Tch!" he grumbles, knees cracking as he bends down to scoop the shards of glass carefully into his gloved hand, placing the larger pieces in the crook of his elbow in a mad act of balance. It is hard to tell in the dim light of the room, but if I look closely enough, I could have sworn he is shaking. Though from anger, or worry, I cannot tell."Where am I?" I ask slowly, hesitant to play into the hands of the seemingly foul mood brewing in the form that is Kal. He looks up from the floor, swiping a free hand back past the mess of blacky-blue hair that has flopped in an elegant disarray in front of his eyes, the tips of his mouth pulled down into a light frown. He sniffs."I thought they said you were clever, little Queen," he rolls his eyes jokingly, and goes back to picking up broken pottery, soaking up the wetness on the floor with a handkerchief that he fishes out meticulously from his back pocket. I lower my sword, my shoulders easing. So he isn't angry- at least not entirely. I suppose that is much better than I hoped."I don't ever recall anyone saying I was clever," I grin a little now, bending down to help Kal pick up the little remaining scraps from the floor, to which he gives his thanks in the form of a deep bow of his head. "Though I have definitely been called rash before. Apologies Kal, I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble," I apologise shyly, rubbing my hand behind my neck, eyes pinpointed on the floor to avoid my face flushing red with embarrassment. He waves me off."If I woke up in a strange place, I probably would have done the same. Besides, it's all fixable, see?" he insists, setting the array of broken china down on a large oak table in the centre of the room, and with one momentary wink in my direction, snaps his fingers. I blink, a sudden bright light flashing before my eyes, burning the back of my retinas enough for me to see sparks dance before my vision like fairies over a lake at twilight. I stumble back again, shielding my face with my hands. By the time the light has dissipated back into the low-light of the murky room, Kal's finger snapping has already worked its magic. On the table, a new tea set is laid out across the red table cloth-shining as if new, and Kal splays his hands proudly before him to indicate the magnificent finery of his magic, beaming joyfully as he wiggles his eyebrows upon seeing the shocked look on my face."That's the same tea set!" I gasp, amazed, half tempted to rub my eyes to ensure I am not just dreaming it up- reconstruction magic is rare, especially in its complete form like this. I nod my approval to Kal. "Young sir, you are going to have to teach me your magic, that spell would save me from a lot of hairy predicaments." He moves round, drawing himself up a seat at the table as he thoughtfully pours himself a cup of tea from the now refilled tea pot, cradling the steaming cup in his hands, leaching off its warmth with a visible shudder. His wings spread out loosely behind him, the picture of casual nonchalance, and I wonder with a brief tilt of my head exactly how long he has been living here."No can do, little Queen, a dragon never shares his magic. And for your information, I am not young, either. In fact, I might be there and about half your Soren's age." I raise my eyebrow."Well would you like me to call you 'old sir' instead then?"He bites his lip, tilting his head to one side as he takes another long sip of tea. After a timely pause, he mutters."Not particularly, no."Smiling, I pull up a seat next to him, taking the much needed time to soak in my surroundings, and process all the happenings going on around me- including that of my strange, newfound ability. That and...A convulsing shudder quakes through the disks of my spine as Soren's words resound through my body like the heavy beat of a funeral drum.Azrael wasn't born with a soul of power.Screams and white haired visions flit in the murky depths of my brains, rising and falling in a song of inharmonious melody- a depressing labyrinth of stone, overrun with moss and vines, and a white flame glowing in its crystalline sheath, stained with icy fingerprints. I clutch my head with a wince, stifling a groan, and then just like that the vision dissipates, flitting like a bat out into the oblivion of the night- as if it were never their to begin with.Kal's hand on my shoulder jolts me back to reality."Are you alright, little Queen?"I nod my head, eager not to seem dazed but finding it equally hard to seem not so."Fine," I say curtly.We appear to be in some sort of house, the walls layered up with ornate wallpapers and illuminated by a series of candlesticks that jut out from the side of the wall like the horns of a ram. We appear to be in a dining room, decorated with a lavish fireplace and a grand assortment of books stacked high in a bookcase in one corner of the room. There are cabinets full of dining wear, and in one particularly large wooden cabinet, it seems to be filled with endless reams of tightly bound letters, all compacted into the cabinet to the point that if I went over there and opened it, I am sure the letters would all burst out.I can only assume who their correspondence is to.It is a fairly nice room considering that we must be somewhere deep inside the end, a place where resources are just as scarce and valuable as the monsters are wicked and deadly. I muse quietly to myself, smiling inwardly. Soren would surely fit right in. The thought of it calms me a little."Say, Kal, how long was I out for?" I ask curiously, visably composing myself, swivelling myself round to face the youthful dragon boy who has since begun pouring himself yet another cup of tea, offering me one silently with a lift of the teapot and a raise of his brows. He pours me out a cup slowly and I watch as the liquid drains into the cup, filling it up to the brim. After a moment of fleeting hesitation, I take it."You must have been out fifteen minutes or so. You started glowing for a bit, but your friend Ithuriel assures me that that is indeed a thing you do, and I wouldn't need to douse you in a bucket of water in the event of you spontaneously combusting."My fingers tap a nervous tempo on the side of my china cup, a nervous energy brewing in the pit of my stomach. My mind flits back to Soren, to the high boned curves of his face, the comforting amber glow of his eyes that seem to quell all fear in me into little more that a distant memory, and the sturdy tightness of his cold embrace as he presses his body into mine, his arms wrapped around my waist as if I am suddenly the only thing left in the world. I latch onto the thought- that lulling memory, and hold it there. My nervous energy subsides."I didn't say anything, did I?" I add quickly, suddenly becoming very interesting in the artificial elk head hanging above the door frame on the wall. Curiosity is practically dripping from Kal's voice."No, why?"I take another long, hearty sip from my cup, hoping desperately the steamy smoke billowing in up around my will be enough to hide the reddening of my face.Soren hadn't exactly behaved himself in our little one to one- and neither had I. I take another sip."No reason."Just as I can feel my insides beginning to combust from self humiliation, who should into the room but the very man we had come to meet, followed closely by Ithuriel who- I notice, leaning back with a tone of surprise, is in his human form, and dressed in a long, sweeping kimono, poised and as elegant as always. They always were his favourite things to wear."I thought I told you not to lie, Kal," says the man's deep voice, a rocky gravelly tone, deep and bittered from the hard years of solitude, yet carrying the tender affection of a father to his son- scolding in a way that didn't really imply anger. Kal, looking over towards the towering figure of the man, grimaces."Well, were you going to tell her she was having a full blown conversation with a non existent Soren and- sorry about this honey- moaning? Because I certainly wasn't about to."
