Chapter 96: 96
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As we sit at the table waiting for Fangorn to finish his searching, I begin to notice Ithuriel's fingers twitching nervously at his sides, an apprehensive tick forming in the lower swell of his lip, as if suddenly sitting so close to me seemed to make him all too uncomfortable. Of course, the reason why seems all too obvious- the confession is weighing on him. My long talk with Fangorn was certainly time enough to let his conflicted heart mull over each and every word he had uttered, and now it seems all too apparent that he regrets muttering those words at all. In fact, he looks like he wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep out the forthcoming events like a hedgehog in the winter.
Part of me wishes I could do the same.
However, instead, I sling my arm across him, offering up a tender smile to symbolize the words I cannot hope to procure from myself and lean my head against his shoulder, a tired dizziness suddenly taking hold of me. Ithuriel, after a seconds deliberation, places his hand on my head, lacing his fingers through my hair as he caresses it fondly, a swift but sad expression overcoming him, but his hand remains in place nonetheless.
Maybe if I were a vampire- or a better friend, I might have known what he is thinking, but I am neither of those things, and thus his thoughts remain as ever, inconclusive.
A sigh breezes from my lips.
"We will get back home soon, my Queen," he assures, as though sensing the dull worries that brew inside me- no doubt an asset of his powers- as he continues to rub the top of my head fondly, lulling me into a false and somewhat guilty sense of security. A strand of his long white hair tickles my cheek as he reaches across to lean his chin atop my head, sighing to himself in a manner I suspect he expects me not to hear as we sit in tandem, soaking up each others warmth from the chilly confines of Fangorn's home.
A vampire's residence is awfully cold.
"Will you be okay?" I ask cautiously, raising my head a little now to address the unspoken problem that lies between us like a wedge of cement between two bricks, holding us impossibly further apart. Ithuriel's face flushes a little at the subject of my asking's, his hair tinted a mixture of sombre blues and lilac hues, until finally he averts his gaze, tilting his head back round to Kal as if he neither has the strength nor the willpower to bring himself to answer.
My heart drops a little.
I should have expected this. Should have, and yet…
I bury my pain with a firm swallow, sucking back the tears I have no rightful place to have. I am not the one suffering here, I have no right to feel sad.
Besides, I lament mournfully to myself, all this is entirely my fault.
"What's he hunting for- Fangorn that is? Or is that general terms for him going out to find his next meal?" asks Ithuriel curiously, obviously attempting to change the subject while trying to keep the conversation light between us over the growing worry that is nibbling at my insides, a worry that he no doubt can feel as clear as the first rays of sun on a cloudless day. Distractedly I avert my gaze.
Kal takes a long sip of his tea, watching us both over the rim of his cup with a keen interest, as though sensing the skewed dynamics between us, yet simultaneously having no obligation to fix them either. Dragon's always were rather self-serving creatures. He takes another sip.
"Missing people."
A visible convulsion of unease quivers its way around the room, bar Fangorn, who remains buried in the shelves, clattering his way frantically from one to the other in a seemingly aimless quest.
Not exactly the light conversation we were expecting. Nevertheless, Ithuriel continues on anyway
"Missing people..? I think you might need to sort out your termonoligy, Kal. People don't hunt for missing people. Do you mean you are looking for people who have gone missing, trying to find them?" he asks, flicking a long strand of hair (now fading a midnight blue) in order to face Kal properly, raising an eyebrow in obvious questioning. Kal sets down his cup, ignoring the frustrated grunts of Fangorn continuing to work his way around the room, and runs his hands back over the black-blue locks of his hair, dark eyes narrowing with a terrifying mixture of pride and maniacal glee.
"No, we hunt for them. We hunt nightly for those that have gone missing over Faey, keep a record of who is lost- stop at the old Siren's Tavern after for a drink if we fancy. Even outcasts can go there. This past year people have gone missing at an alarming rate, we were instructed to look into it. We gave up looking for where they actually went a long time ago- our leads always went dead. Soren sometimes helps sometimes, in fact, he was the one who sent us out looking in the first place."
Ithuriel and I share a worried look between us. Ithuriel opens his mouth, a flash of alarming panging across his high boned features, but before he can say anything I interrupt, leaning across the table to face Kal with obvious distress. Unease boils in my blood.
"You mean to tell me Soren comes here? Aren't you outcasts? Isn't that against every vampire rule, like, ever?"
Kal puts up his hands defensively, gently pushing back down that eager panic that has arisen in my voice with a wave of his hands, shaking his head vigorously until at last I fall back into my seat. Ithuriel and I sit in tense anticipation, waiting with bated breath for some logical explanation. Could this be the place Soren was visiting when I followed him into the end all those days ago? To see Fangorn?
"Calm down, little Queen. He comes here, yes, but only on scheduled meetings at the end of every week so we can update him on our findings. You don't have to worry about him coming here unannounced and spilling all your secrets. I will let you have the pleasure of doing that yourself," he grins, punctuating his words with a sly and knowing wink in my direction. I shoot him a deadpan look.
"Very funny, Kal," Ithuriel sniffs, wrinkling his nose at the handsome dragon beside him, sun and moon eyes glowing with a sharp look that I can only describe as disappointment. "Strangely enough, last time I checked spilling your secrets to a vampire Prince who barely even has a taste for mercy on his generous days wasn't exactly a sure-fire method of keeping yourself alive. Do not belittle what my Queen has to do."
Kal looks as though he has been stung by a bee.
"Noted," he whispers quietly, rubbing the back of his head with a heedful nod as though pondering to himself where exactly he went wrong. At last I sink back into my seat, the initial shockwave of information dying from my veins, but Ithuriel remains bolt upright, studying Kal with a mix of seeming mistrust and unbridled curiosity, as though trying to fathom what tricks exactly he is trying to play and disliking each of the alternatives all the same.
Silently, I wonder to myself whether Kal has already figured out that Ithuriel can read his aura, and whether if he is trying to keep his emotions in check.
I grin a little.
I doubt it.
"Well, either way, you won't find Soren here today. We may be outcasts, but no one knows of his visits to us. I suppose we have to give him some credit there, he has helped Fangorn and I a monumental amount these past hundred years. And-"
Before Kal can say any more, he is cut off by a low yell of triumph as Fangorn returns to us, cupping a little box in the palm of his hands, offering them to me with a few tentative shakes of his outstretched palm.
"Here here. This is what I have been looking for. These will be of use to you in the labyrinth to help hide you from the halfling vampires. Put them on before you enter. If you put them on in the labyrinth, it will be too late and the damage will already be done."
Precariously, I prize the box from his hands, flicking open the lid with one smooth, satisfying swipe of my fingers. Staring down into it, I raise my brow accusingly.
"Bracelets…?" I say, hesitantly enough, that Fangorn's face drops in a temporary disappointment, as if expecting me to get some joke that has gone and flown right over my head. I nudge one with the tip of my pinky and not to my surprise, nothing happens.
Why is it that whenever something needs to be done, the solution is always some form of extravagant jewelry?
Kal rolls his eyes at me from across the table, clearly in the same mind as Fangorn, and I stick my tongue out at him in return, my inner child bubbling under the surface of my skin as I return my attention back to the bracelets, trying to figure out what an earth I am missing. Ithuriel frowns, or would have frowned has his lips not twitched into a half amused smile.
"Do you not recognise your own people's handiwork?" Kal sighs dramatically, sweeping a hand across his forehead in a mocking woefulness. I wrinkle my nose at him, but look down again anyway, this time a little more brazen as I procure one of the bracelets from the pair and lift it up, holding it against the light to admire at the smooth polished gold, and the little engraving on the inner hem, etched in with such a tiny hand it is almost invisible. I squint harder at the letters, making out an 'E' and an 'R'.
Clearly, Ithuriel see's it too.
"Elris Ramedaius," he says, nodding over to me as he leans back into his chair, smirking at my incompetence while sliding a few stray strands of hair away from his face and tucking them behind his ear. He lowers his eyes at the two of them slightly, but not enough to be patronising as he asks: "How did you get these?"
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
As we sit at the table waiting for Fangorn to finish his searching, I begin to notice Ithuriel's fingers twitching nervously at his sides, an apprehensive tick forming in the lower swell of his lip, as if suddenly sitting so close to me seemed to make him all too uncomfortable. Of course, the reason why seems all too obvious- the confession is weighing on him. My long talk with Fangorn was certainly time enough to let his conflicted heart mull over each and every word he had uttered, and now it seems all too apparent that he regrets muttering those words at all. In fact, he looks like he wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep out the forthcoming events like a hedgehog in the winter.
Part of me wishes I could do the same.
However, instead, I sling my arm across him, offering up a tender smile to symbolize the words I cannot hope to procure from myself and lean my head against his shoulder, a tired dizziness suddenly taking hold of me. Ithuriel, after a seconds deliberation, places his hand on my head, lacing his fingers through my hair as he caresses it fondly, a swift but sad expression overcoming him, but his hand remains in place nonetheless.
Maybe if I were a vampire- or a better friend, I might have known what he is thinking, but I am neither of those things, and thus his thoughts remain as ever, inconclusive.
A sigh breezes from my lips.
"We will get back home soon, my Queen," he assures, as though sensing the dull worries that brew inside me- no doubt an asset of his powers- as he continues to rub the top of my head fondly, lulling me into a false and somewhat guilty sense of security. A strand of his long white hair tickles my cheek as he reaches across to lean his chin atop my head, sighing to himself in a manner I suspect he expects me not to hear as we sit in tandem, soaking up each others warmth from the chilly confines of Fangorn's home.
A vampire's residence is awfully cold.
"Will you be okay?" I ask cautiously, raising my head a little now to address the unspoken problem that lies between us like a wedge of cement between two bricks, holding us impossibly further apart. Ithuriel's face flushes a little at the subject of my asking's, his hair tinted a mixture of sombre blues and lilac hues, until finally he averts his gaze, tilting his head back round to Kal as if he neither has the strength nor the willpower to bring himself to answer.
My heart drops a little.
I should have expected this. Should have, and yet…
I bury my pain with a firm swallow, sucking back the tears I have no rightful place to have. I am not the one suffering here, I have no right to feel sad.
Besides, I lament mournfully to myself, all this is entirely my fault.
"What's he hunting for- Fangorn that is? Or is that general terms for him going out to find his next meal?" asks Ithuriel curiously, obviously attempting to change the subject while trying to keep the conversation light between us over the growing worry that is nibbling at my insides, a worry that he no doubt can feel as clear as the first rays of sun on a cloudless day. Distractedly I avert my gaze.
Kal takes a long sip of his tea, watching us both over the rim of his cup with a keen interest, as though sensing the skewed dynamics between us, yet simultaneously having no obligation to fix them either. Dragon's always were rather self-serving creatures. He takes another sip.
"Missing people."
A visible convulsion of unease quivers its way around the room, bar Fangorn, who remains buried in the shelves, clattering his way frantically from one to the other in a seemingly aimless quest.
Not exactly the light conversation we were expecting. Nevertheless, Ithuriel continues on anyway
"Missing people..? I think you might need to sort out your termonoligy, Kal. People don't hunt for missing people. Do you mean you are looking for people who have gone missing, trying to find them?" he asks, flicking a long strand of hair (now fading a midnight blue) in order to face Kal properly, raising an eyebrow in obvious questioning. Kal sets down his cup, ignoring the frustrated grunts of Fangorn continuing to work his way around the room, and runs his hands back over the black-blue locks of his hair, dark eyes narrowing with a terrifying mixture of pride and maniacal glee.
"No, we hunt for them. We hunt nightly for those that have gone missing over Faey, keep a record of who is lost- stop at the old Siren's Tavern after for a drink if we fancy. Even outcasts can go there. This past year people have gone missing at an alarming rate, we were instructed to look into it. We gave up looking for where they actually went a long time ago- our leads always went dead. Soren sometimes helps sometimes, in fact, he was the one who sent us out looking in the first place."
Ithuriel and I share a worried look between us. Ithuriel opens his mouth, a flash of alarming panging across his high boned features, but before he can say anything I interrupt, leaning across the table to face Kal with obvious distress. Unease boils in my blood.
"You mean to tell me Soren comes here? Aren't you outcasts? Isn't that against every vampire rule, like, ever?"
Kal puts up his hands defensively, gently pushing back down that eager panic that has arisen in my voice with a wave of his hands, shaking his head vigorously until at last I fall back into my seat. Ithuriel and I sit in tense anticipation, waiting with bated breath for some logical explanation. Could this be the place Soren was visiting when I followed him into the end all those days ago? To see Fangorn?
"Calm down, little Queen. He comes here, yes, but only on scheduled meetings at the end of every week so we can update him on our findings. You don't have to worry about him coming here unannounced and spilling all your secrets. I will let you have the pleasure of doing that yourself," he grins, punctuating his words with a sly and knowing wink in my direction. I shoot him a deadpan look.
"Very funny, Kal," Ithuriel sniffs, wrinkling his nose at the handsome dragon beside him, sun and moon eyes glowing with a sharp look that I can only describe as disappointment. "Strangely enough, last time I checked spilling your secrets to a vampire Prince who barely even has a taste for mercy on his generous days wasn't exactly a sure-fire method of keeping yourself alive. Do not belittle what my Queen has to do."
Kal looks as though he has been stung by a bee.
"Noted," he whispers quietly, rubbing the back of his head with a heedful nod as though pondering to himself where exactly he went wrong. At last I sink back into my seat, the initial shockwave of information dying from my veins, but Ithuriel remains bolt upright, studying Kal with a mix of seeming mistrust and unbridled curiosity, as though trying to fathom what tricks exactly he is trying to play and disliking each of the alternatives all the same.
Silently, I wonder to myself whether Kal has already figured out that Ithuriel can read his aura, and whether if he is trying to keep his emotions in check.
I grin a little.
I doubt it.
"Well, either way, you won't find Soren here today. We may be outcasts, but no one knows of his visits to us. I suppose we have to give him some credit there, he has helped Fangorn and I a monumental amount these past hundred years. And-"
Before Kal can say any more, he is cut off by a low yell of triumph as Fangorn returns to us, cupping a little box in the palm of his hands, offering them to me with a few tentative shakes of his outstretched palm.
"Here here. This is what I have been looking for. These will be of use to you in the labyrinth to help hide you from the halfling vampires. Put them on before you enter. If you put them on in the labyrinth, it will be too late and the damage will already be done."
Precariously, I prize the box from his hands, flicking open the lid with one smooth, satisfying swipe of my fingers. Staring down into it, I raise my brow accusingly.
"Bracelets…?" I say, hesitantly enough, that Fangorn's face drops in a temporary disappointment, as if expecting me to get some joke that has gone and flown right over my head. I nudge one with the tip of my pinky and not to my surprise, nothing happens.
Why is it that whenever something needs to be done, the solution is always some form of extravagant jewelry?
Kal rolls his eyes at me from across the table, clearly in the same mind as Fangorn, and I stick my tongue out at him in return, my inner child bubbling under the surface of my skin as I return my attention back to the bracelets, trying to figure out what an earth I am missing. Ithuriel frowns, or would have frowned has his lips not twitched into a half amused smile.
"Do you not recognise your own people's handiwork?" Kal sighs dramatically, sweeping a hand across his forehead in a mocking woefulness. I wrinkle my nose at him, but look down again anyway, this time a little more brazen as I procure one of the bracelets from the pair and lift it up, holding it against the light to admire at the smooth polished gold, and the little engraving on the inner hem, etched in with such a tiny hand it is almost invisible. I squint harder at the letters, making out an 'E' and an 'R'.
Clearly, Ithuriel see's it too.
"Elris Ramedaius," he says, nodding over to me as he leans back into his chair, smirking at my incompetence while sliding a few stray strands of hair away from his face and tucking them behind his ear. He lowers his eyes at the two of them slightly, but not enough to be patronising as he asks: "How did you get these?"
As we sit at the table waiting for Fangorn to finish his searching, I begin to notice Ithuriel's fingers twitching nervously at his sides, an apprehensive tick forming in the lower swell of his lip, as if suddenly sitting so close to me seemed to make him all too uncomfortable. Of course, the reason why seems all too obvious- the confession is weighing on him. My long talk with Fangorn was certainly time enough to let his conflicted heart mull over each and every word he had uttered, and now it seems all too apparent that he regrets muttering those words at all. In fact, he looks like he wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep out the forthcoming events like a hedgehog in the winter.Part of me wishes I could do the same. However, instead, I sling my arm across him, offering up a tender smile to symbolize the words I cannot hope to procure from myself and lean my head against his shoulder, a tired dizziness suddenly taking hold of me. Ithuriel, after a seconds deliberation, places his hand on my head, lacing his fingers through my hair as he caresses it fondly, a swift but sad expression overcoming him, but his hand remains in place nonetheless. Maybe if I were a vampire- or a better friend, I might have known what he is thinking, but I am neither of those things, and thus his thoughts remain as ever, inconclusive. A sigh breezes from my lips."We will get back home soon, my Queen," he assures, as though sensing the dull worries that brew inside me- no doubt an asset of his powers- as he continues to rub the top of my head fondly, lulling me into a false and somewhat guilty sense of security. A strand of his long white hair tickles my cheek as he reaches across to lean his chin atop my head, sighing to himself in a manner I suspect he expects me not to hear as we sit in tandem, soaking up each others warmth from the chilly confines of Fangorn's home. A vampire's residence is awfully cold."Will you be okay?" I ask cautiously, raising my head a little now to address the unspoken problem that lies between us like a wedge of cement between two bricks, holding us impossibly further apart. Ithuriel's face flushes a little at the subject of my asking's, his hair tinted a mixture of sombre blues and lilac hues, until finally he averts his gaze, tilting his head back round to Kal as if he neither has the strength nor the willpower to bring himself to answer.My heart drops a little.I should have expected this. Should have, and yetI bury my pain with a firm swallow, sucking back the tears I have no rightful place to have. I am not the one suffering here, I have no right to feel sad. Besides, I lament mournfully to myself, all this is entirely my fault."What's he hunting for- Fangorn that is? Or is that general terms for him going out to find his next meal?" asks Ithuriel curiously, obviously attempting to change the subject while trying to keep the conversation light between us over the growing worry that is nibbling at my insides, a worry that he no doubt can feel as clear as the first rays of sun on a cloudless day. Distractedly I avert my gaze.Kal takes a long sip of his tea, watching us both over the rim of his cup with a keen interest, as though sensing the skewed dynamics between us, yet simultaneously having no obligation to fix them either. Dragon's always were rather self-serving creatures. He takes another sip."Missing people."A visible convulsion of unease quivers its way around the room, bar Fangorn, who remains buried in the shelves, clattering his way frantically from one to the other in a seemingly aimless quest.Not exactly the light conversation we were expecting. Nevertheless, Ithuriel continues on anyway"Missing people..? I think you might need to sort out your termonoligy, Kal. People don't hunt for missing people. Do you mean you are looking for people who have gone missing, trying to find them?" he asks, flicking a long strand of hair now fading a midnight blue in order to face Kal properly, raising an eyebrow in obvious questioning. Kal sets down his cup, ignoring the frustrated grunts of Fangorn continuing to work his way around the room, and runs his hands back over the black-blue locks of his hair, dark eyes narrowing with a terrifying mixture of pride and maniacal glee."No, we hunt for them. We hunt nightly for those that have gone missing over Faey, keep a record of who is lost- stop at the old Siren's Tavern after for a drink if we fancy. Even outcasts can go there. This past year people have gone missing at an alarming rate, we were instructed to look into it. We gave up looking for where they actually went a long time ago- our leads always went dead. Soren sometimes helps sometimes, in fact, he was the one who sent us out looking in the first place."Ithuriel and I share a worried look between us. Ithuriel opens his mouth, a flash of alarming panging across his high boned features, but before he can say anything I interrupt, leaning across the table to face Kal with obvious distress. Unease boils in my blood."You mean to tell me Soren comes here? Aren't you outcasts? Isn't that against every vampire rule, like, ever?"Kal puts up his hands defensively, gently pushing back down that eager panic that has arisen in my voice with a wave of his hands, shaking his head vigorously until at last I fall back into my seat. Ithuriel and I sit in tense anticipation, waiting with bated breath for some logical explanation. Could this be the place Soren was visiting when I followed him into the end all those days ago? To see Fangorn?"Calm down, little Queen. He comes here, yes, but only on scheduled meetings at the end of every week so we can update him on our findings. You don't have to worry about him coming here unannounced and spilling all your secrets. I will let you have the pleasure of doing that yourself," he grins, punctuating his words with a sly and knowing wink in my direction. I shoot him a deadpan look."Very funny, Kal," Ithuriel sniffs, wrinkling his nose at the handsome dragon beside him, sun and moon eyes glowing with a sharp look that I can only describe as disappointment. "Strangely enough, last time I checked spilling your secrets to a vampire Prince who barely even has a taste for mercy on his generous days wasn't exactly a sure-fire method of keeping yourself alive. Do not belittle what my Queen has to do."Kal looks as though he has been stung by a bee. "Noted," he whispers quietly, rubbing the back of his head with a heedful nod as though pondering to himself where exactly he went wrong. At last I sink back into my seat, the initial shockwave of information dying from my veins, but Ithuriel remains bolt upright, studying Kal with a mix of seeming mistrust and unbridled curiosity, as though trying to fathom what tricks exactly he is trying to play and disliking each of the alternatives all the same.Silently, I wonder to myself whether Kal has already figured out that Ithuriel can read his aura, and whether if he is trying to keep his emotions in check.I grin a little.I doubt it."Well, either way, you won't find Soren here today. We may be outcasts, but no one knows of his visits to us. I suppose we have to give him some credit there, he has helped Fangorn and I a monumental amount these past hundred years. And-"Before Kal can say any more, he is cut off by a low yell of triumph as Fangorn returns to us, cupping a little box in the palm of his hands, offering them to me with a few tentative shakes of his outstretched palm."Here here. This is what I have been looking for. These will be of use to you in the labyrinth to help hide you from the halfling vampires. Put them on before you enter. If you put them on in the labyrinth, it will be too late and the damage will already be done."Precariously, I prize the box from his hands, flicking open the lid with one smooth, satisfying swipe of my fingers. Staring down into it, I raise my brow accusingly."Bracelets?" I say, hesitantly enough, that Fangorn's face drops in a temporary disappointment, as if expecting me to get some joke that has gone and flown right over my head. I nudge one with the tip of my pinky and not to my surprise, nothing happens. Why is it that whenever something needs to be done, the solution is always some form of extravagant jewelry?Kal rolls his eyes at me from across the table, clearly in the same mind as Fangorn, and I stick my tongue out at him in return, my inner child bubbling under the surface of my skin as I return my attention back to the bracelets, trying to figure out what an earth I am missing. Ithuriel frowns, or would have frowned has his lips not twitched into a half amused smile. "Do you not recognise your own people's handiwork?" Kal sighs dramatically, sweeping a hand across his forehead in a mocking woefulness. I wrinkle my nose at him, but look down again anyway, this time a little more brazen as I procure one of the bracelets from the pair and lift it up, holding it against the light to admire at the smooth polished gold, and the little engraving on the inner hem, etched in with such a tiny hand it is almost invisible. I squint harder at the letters, making out an 'E' and an 'R'.Clearly, Ithuriel see's it too."Elris Ramedaius," he says, nodding over to me as he leans back into his chair, smirking at my incompetence while sliding a few stray strands of hair away from his face and tucking them behind his ear. He lowers his eyes at the two of them slightly, but not enough to be patronising as he asks: "How did you get these?"
