Chapter 97: 97
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Fangorn chuckles darkly to himself, drawing up a chair and straddling it to face us, jerking his chin to the direction of the box, and the golden bracelet glimmering between my fingers, dulled under the permanent darkness of the end. I think to myself that in the sunlight, a piece of finery such as this would look dazzling- its beauty has been utterly wasted these long centuries in the end, tucked away in the small ornate box longer than I have walked this earth. I smile sadly, looking up to Fangorn, searching for answers.
And answers he does give.
"Elris is an old angel. Older than the council in fact," Fangorn muses, scratching the light stubble on his broad chin with a ponderous sort of curiosity. He dips his head towards the gleaming slivers of gold fleetingly as though they would hold the answers to the words he speaks of. "He had his wings taken from him when he was very young, by a vampire, of course. But for all his grievances he has never been bitter towards my kind- Lilyana always told me he seemed glad his wings were taken- it meant he could make a better pair for himself. A remarkable thing really- his hope for the future was never sundered."
Slowly, I nod in ample agreement. Elris had always been the hopeful optimist of the Illistrae clan- after all, it was him who helped me win my case over with the council, who set me up on this mission to take back the flame from the icy depths of Sezeria- a task previously believed to be nigh impossible. And, I think ponderously, rubbing the back of my head lightly as I lower my eyes to survey the bracelets once more with a tender inquisitiveness, I would not put it past him to have foreseen the events that have already come to passing. Perhaps all along he knew there was something more to me, something that the council- in all their pallid and greedy glory, could never hope to detect.
Perhaps it is Elris who is the true hero of all this.
"He helped Lilyana hide her relationship from the council and the vampires for many, many years too you know." Fangorn adds slyly, drawing me out of my daze. I jerk my head up, suddenly drawn to a hasty attention.
"He did?"
Fangorn nods with a solemn, but somehow slightly joyous dip of his head.
"I think, perhaps, he just wanted to see her happy. So," he says, gesturing again to the twinned golden loops enclosed within the delicate velveteen box, "He made her these."
Carefully, I put back the other bracelet into the box with a delicate clink, eyeing them over for a second, the surreal-ness that these objects, however many hundreds of years old they are, were once in the possession of Lilyana almost doesn't seem to comprehend- not entirely sitting well in my mind. It feels odd, unreal, and yet a thing like this is entirely probable-after all Soren himself is many hundreds of years old, has lived the fleeting shortness of many mortal lifespans, thus it is likely he has come to acquire many possessions far more old and much more valuable than the ones that sit twinkling before me.
Yet all the same, I cannot put aside that pang of amazement that sparks through me, rocketing through my body like the first firework at the start of a festival.
These were Lilyana's.
I fidget in my seat, straightening my back up against the hard wood of the chair.
"And what do they do? They must be pretty great if they can get me through a maze of rabid vampires without a single scratch," I half laugh, half joking, returning my eyes to Fangorn's burly shape in search of answers. He holds up a finger, eyes gleaming nefariously.
"They stop your heart,"
Immediately, both Ithuriel and I recoil in terrified unison.
"Excuse me?" I splutter, half unsure if I had heard the words correctly. Stop your heart? Why in the heavens would anyone want that?
Ithuriel clearly seems to be on the same wavelength, because he rises up from his seat, splaying his hands either side of the table with a firm 'bang', eye's sparkling with unbridled fury, knuckles white as he clenches his fists into tight angry balls.
He looks like he is about to explode.
"I don't know what you are trying to pull, Fangorn, but my Queen is not a vampire. Stopping her heart will kill her." he growls, hair fading back into an irate red, like the eyes of the vampire before us whose demeanour gleams with an air of nonchalance and an underlying frustration. He waves Ithuriel down with a dismissive motion of his hands, but in his defiance Ithuriel remains standing, glaring down his opponent.
"Kal, anything to add?" he says, his eyes still glued on Fangorn, as if drawn to him by some inexorable force that fates him to never looking away, like Narcissus to a mirror, or a mortal upon making eye contact with a gorgon- frozen in place.
Kal arises to place a fond hand on Ithuriel's back, the action of which causes the now red haired angel to stiffen uncontrollably, his mouth pulled down into a dissatisfied grimace, but Kal brushes off the coldness with an assuring smile and begins to rub circles over his skin between the join of his wings. I raise my brows. Still, Ithuriel's eyes do not leave Fangorn.
"No need to get feisty, Fangorn does not intend to kill the little Queen. I will admit, that was rather cryptic on Fangorn's part, so allow me to explain," he offers with the clear intention of wanting Ithuriel to look at him, and not continuing if he didn't, so with a reluctant grumble, Ithuriel turns his attention back towards Kal, crossing his arms over himself with a poised elegance, his kimono rustling with the action. Kal grins delightedly.
"Good, now. As Fangorn very crudely suggested, the bracelets do stop your heart, but not in the way you might think. Essentially what they do is silence your entire body. So your beating heart, the rush of blood through your veins, your breathing, even right down to the creak of your bones would make no sound whatsoever. Think of it as being cocooned in hundreds and hundreds of layers of soundproofing material, no sound can get out, no whisper of your existence can be heard. So long as no blood is spilt, you will be practically untraceable. You would effectively be as silent as a vampire, undetectable and untraceable. Of course, people who know you, who realise you have a pulse and still living organs in your body would immediately understand something is off which is why you should not put them on before. But down in the labyrinth, I doubt you will be seeing anyone you know, anyway."
After a short moment of processing, the tension in Ithuriel's body subsides. His shoulders drop in relief.
"So nobody is dying then?"
Kal laughs heartily.
"No, nobody is dying. Believe me, if Fangorn so much as laid a finger on you two he would be in for some big trouble with my lady. And with me," he says, shooting a quick sideways glance to Ithuriel, as though gauging whether or not he had gone too far. Ithuriel grunts his solemn and irresponsive approval.
"Well, I suppose the approval of a dragon is better than one of the vampire," he says, rolling his eyes a bit, and I stiffen at the comment, eyeing Fangorn warily across the room, who thankfully remains undisturbed by the offhand nature of the comment, instead offering up a sly grin and raising a cup off tea to the sky.
"Here here my boy," he laughs, taking a quick sip of the tea, before his face scrunches up in an obvious mixture of disgust and immediate regret as he leans off to the side to spit it out, showering the floor with a flurry of glistening droplets. I grimace, shying away from the scene.
"Cold," he mutters, setting the cup precariously back down on the side of the table as if he had never picked it up to begin with. Some reckless part of me finds it in myself to scoff.
"You know, I always presumed being so coldblooded as you are, cooler beverages would not bother you," I say, trying my best not to giggle at the prolonged air of disgust swelling in Fangorn's face, and he lifts his lips in denial, teeth bared against the gloom like a twin set of daggers as he shoots a sharp look at Kal, who in response instantly covers his mouth to hide his smile. I suppose I am not the only one to find myself amused, then.
"Yes well, I supposed you never stopped to realise that we vampires drink mostly blood, which if from the source, is warm. Cold beverages don't quite fill us with the same satisfaction, nor do they bring a temporary colour back to our bodies. Which is why," he adds, waving a drunken finger in my general direction, "if you see that boy of yours blushing, that's not his own blood in his cheeks."
Fangorn cackles a laugh to himself as though amused by the thought.
"Right, and with that, I think it's time I best be gone.. I have got hunting to do, those missing people aren't going to track themselves! Now scurry along now all of you, I believe you have a castle of vampires to get back to."
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Fangorn chuckles darkly to himself, drawing up a chair and straddling it to face us, jerking his chin to the direction of the box, and the golden bracelet glimmering between my fingers, dulled under the permanent darkness of the end. I think to myself that in the sunlight, a piece of finery such as this would look dazzling- its beauty has been utterly wasted these long centuries in the end, tucked away in the small ornate box longer than I have walked this earth. I smile sadly, looking up to Fangorn, searching for answers.
And answers he does give.
"Elris is an old angel. Older than the council in fact," Fangorn muses, scratching the light stubble on his broad chin with a ponderous sort of curiosity. He dips his head towards the gleaming slivers of gold fleetingly as though they would hold the answers to the words he speaks of. "He had his wings taken from him when he was very young, by a vampire, of course. But for all his grievances he has never been bitter towards my kind- Lilyana always told me he seemed glad his wings were taken- it meant he could make a better pair for himself. A remarkable thing really- his hope for the future was never sundered."
Slowly, I nod in ample agreement. Elris had always been the hopeful optimist of the Illistrae clan- after all, it was him who helped me win my case over with the council, who set me up on this mission to take back the flame from the icy depths of Sezeria- a task previously believed to be nigh impossible. And, I think ponderously, rubbing the back of my head lightly as I lower my eyes to survey the bracelets once more with a tender inquisitiveness, I would not put it past him to have foreseen the events that have already come to passing. Perhaps all along he knew there was something more to me, something that the council- in all their pallid and greedy glory, could never hope to detect.
Perhaps it is Elris who is the true hero of all this.
"He helped Lilyana hide her relationship from the council and the vampires for many, many years too you know." Fangorn adds slyly, drawing me out of my daze. I jerk my head up, suddenly drawn to a hasty attention.
"He did?"
Fangorn nods with a solemn, but somehow slightly joyous dip of his head.
"I think, perhaps, he just wanted to see her happy. So," he says, gesturing again to the twinned golden loops enclosed within the delicate velveteen box, "He made her these."
Carefully, I put back the other bracelet into the box with a delicate clink, eyeing them over for a second, the surreal-ness that these objects, however many hundreds of years old they are, were once in the possession of Lilyana almost doesn't seem to comprehend- not entirely sitting well in my mind. It feels odd, unreal, and yet a thing like this is entirely probable-after all Soren himself is many hundreds of years old, has lived the fleeting shortness of many mortal lifespans, thus it is likely he has come to acquire many possessions far more old and much more valuable than the ones that sit twinkling before me.
Yet all the same, I cannot put aside that pang of amazement that sparks through me, rocketing through my body like the first firework at the start of a festival.
These were Lilyana's.
I fidget in my seat, straightening my back up against the hard wood of the chair.
"And what do they do? They must be pretty great if they can get me through a maze of rabid vampires without a single scratch," I half laugh, half joking, returning my eyes to Fangorn's burly shape in search of answers. He holds up a finger, eyes gleaming nefariously.
"They stop your heart,"
Immediately, both Ithuriel and I recoil in terrified unison.
"Excuse me?" I splutter, half unsure if I had heard the words correctly. Stop your heart? Why in the heavens would anyone want that?
Ithuriel clearly seems to be on the same wavelength, because he rises up from his seat, splaying his hands either side of the table with a firm 'bang', eye's sparkling with unbridled fury, knuckles white as he clenches his fists into tight angry balls.
He looks like he is about to explode.
"I don't know what you are trying to pull, Fangorn, but my Queen is not a vampire. Stopping her heart will kill her." he growls, hair fading back into an irate red, like the eyes of the vampire before us whose demeanour gleams with an air of nonchalance and an underlying frustration. He waves Ithuriel down with a dismissive motion of his hands, but in his defiance Ithuriel remains standing, glaring down his opponent.
"Kal, anything to add?" he says, his eyes still glued on Fangorn, as if drawn to him by some inexorable force that fates him to never looking away, like Narcissus to a mirror, or a mortal upon making eye contact with a gorgon- frozen in place.
Kal arises to place a fond hand on Ithuriel's back, the action of which causes the now red haired angel to stiffen uncontrollably, his mouth pulled down into a dissatisfied grimace, but Kal brushes off the coldness with an assuring smile and begins to rub circles over his skin between the join of his wings. I raise my brows. Still, Ithuriel's eyes do not leave Fangorn.
"No need to get feisty, Fangorn does not intend to kill the little Queen. I will admit, that was rather cryptic on Fangorn's part, so allow me to explain," he offers with the clear intention of wanting Ithuriel to look at him, and not continuing if he didn't, so with a reluctant grumble, Ithuriel turns his attention back towards Kal, crossing his arms over himself with a poised elegance, his kimono rustling with the action. Kal grins delightedly.
"Good, now. As Fangorn very crudely suggested, the bracelets do stop your heart, but not in the way you might think. Essentially what they do is silence your entire body. So your beating heart, the rush of blood through your veins, your breathing, even right down to the creak of your bones would make no sound whatsoever. Think of it as being cocooned in hundreds and hundreds of layers of soundproofing material, no sound can get out, no whisper of your existence can be heard. So long as no blood is spilt, you will be practically untraceable. You would effectively be as silent as a vampire, undetectable and untraceable. Of course, people who know you, who realise you have a pulse and still living organs in your body would immediately understand something is off which is why you should not put them on before. But down in the labyrinth, I doubt you will be seeing anyone you know, anyway."
After a short moment of processing, the tension in Ithuriel's body subsides. His shoulders drop in relief.
"So nobody is dying then?"
Kal laughs heartily.
"No, nobody is dying. Believe me, if Fangorn so much as laid a finger on you two he would be in for some big trouble with my lady. And with me," he says, shooting a quick sideways glance to Ithuriel, as though gauging whether or not he had gone too far. Ithuriel grunts his solemn and irresponsive approval.
"Well, I suppose the approval of a dragon is better than one of the vampire," he says, rolling his eyes a bit, and I stiffen at the comment, eyeing Fangorn warily across the room, who thankfully remains undisturbed by the offhand nature of the comment, instead offering up a sly grin and raising a cup off tea to the sky.
"Here here my boy," he laughs, taking a quick sip of the tea, before his face scrunches up in an obvious mixture of disgust and immediate regret as he leans off to the side to spit it out, showering the floor with a flurry of glistening droplets. I grimace, shying away from the scene.
"Cold," he mutters, setting the cup precariously back down on the side of the table as if he had never picked it up to begin with. Some reckless part of me finds it in myself to scoff.
"You know, I always presumed being so coldblooded as you are, cooler beverages would not bother you," I say, trying my best not to giggle at the prolonged air of disgust swelling in Fangorn's face, and he lifts his lips in denial, teeth bared against the gloom like a twin set of daggers as he shoots a sharp look at Kal, who in response instantly covers his mouth to hide his smile. I suppose I am not the only one to find myself amused, then.
"Yes well, I supposed you never stopped to realise that we vampires drink mostly blood, which if from the source, is warm. Cold beverages don't quite fill us with the same satisfaction, nor do they bring a temporary colour back to our bodies. Which is why," he adds, waving a drunken finger in my general direction, "if you see that boy of yours blushing, that's not his own blood in his cheeks."
Fangorn cackles a laugh to himself as though amused by the thought.
"Right, and with that, I think it's time I best be gone.. I have got hunting to do, those missing people aren't going to track themselves! Now scurry along now all of you, I believe you have a castle of vampires to get back to."
Fangorn chuckles darkly to himself, drawing up a chair and straddling it to face us, jerking his chin to the direction of the box, and the golden bracelet glimmering between my fingers, dulled under the permanent darkness of the end. I think to myself that in the sunlight, a piece of finery such as this would look dazzling- its beauty has been utterly wasted these long centuries in the end, tucked away in the small ornate box longer than I have walked this earth. I smile sadly, looking up to Fangorn, searching for answers.And answers he does give."Elris is an old angel. Older than the council in fact," Fangorn muses, scratching the light stubble on his broad chin with a ponderous sort of curiosity. He dips his head towards the gleaming slivers of gold fleetingly as though they would hold the answers to the words he speaks of. "He had his wings taken from him when he was very young, by a vampire, of course. But for all his grievances he has never been bitter towards my kind- Lilyana always told me he seemed glad his wings were taken- it meant he could make a better pair for himself. A remarkable thing really- his hope for the future was never sundered." Slowly, I nod in ample agreement. Elris had always been the hopeful optimist of the Illistrae clan- after all, it was him who helped me win my case over with the council, who set me up on this mission to take back the flame from the icy depths of Sezeria- a task previously believed to be nigh impossible. And, I think ponderously, rubbing the back of my head lightly as I lower my eyes to survey the bracelets once more with a tender inquisitiveness, I would not put it past him to have foreseen the events that have already come to passing. Perhaps all along he knew there was something more to me, something that the council- in all their pallid and greedy glory, could never hope to detect. Perhaps it is Elris who is the true hero of all this."He helped Lilyana hide her relationship from the council and the vampires for many, many years too you know." Fangorn adds slyly, drawing me out of my daze. I jerk my head up, suddenly drawn to a hasty attention."He did?"Fangorn nods with a solemn, but somehow slightly joyous dip of his head. "I think, perhaps, he just wanted to see her happy. So," he says, gesturing again to the twinned golden loops enclosed within the delicate velveteen box, "He made her these."Carefully, I put back the other bracelet into the box with a delicate clink, eyeing them over for a second, the surreal-ness that these objects, however many hundreds of years old they are, were once in the possession of Lilyana almost doesn't seem to comprehend- not entirely sitting well in my mind. It feels odd, unreal, and yet a thing like this is entirely probable-after all Soren himself is many hundreds of years old, has lived the fleeting shortness of many mortal lifespans, thus it is likely he has come to acquire many possessions far more old and much more valuable than the ones that sit twinkling before me. Yet all the same, I cannot put aside that pang of amazement that sparks through me, rocketing through my body like the first firework at the start of a festival.These were Lilyana's. I fidget in my seat, straightening my back up against the hard wood of the chair."And what do they do? They must be pretty great if they can get me through a maze of rabid vampires without a single scratch," I half laugh, half joking, returning my eyes to Fangorn's burly shape in search of answers. He holds up a finger, eyes gleaming nefariously."They stop your heart,"Immediately, both Ithuriel and I recoil in terrified unison. "Excuse me?" I splutter, half unsure if I had heard the words correctly. Stop your heart? Why in the heavens would anyone want that?Ithuriel clearly seems to be on the same wavelength, because he rises up from his seat, splaying his hands either side of the table with a firm 'bang', eye's sparkling with unbridled fury, knuckles white as he clenches his fists into tight angry balls.He looks like he is about to explode."I don't know what you are trying to pull, Fangorn, but my Queen is not a vampire. Stopping her heart will kill her." he growls, hair fading back into an irate red, like the eyes of the vampire before us whose demeanour gleams with an air of nonchalance and an underlying frustration. He waves Ithuriel down with a dismissive motion of his hands, but in his defiance Ithuriel remains standing, glaring down his opponent."Kal, anything to add?" he says, his eyes still glued on Fangorn, as if drawn to him by some inexorable force that fates him to never looking away, like Narcissus to a mirror, or a mortal upon making eye contact with a gorgon- frozen in place.Kal arises to place a fond hand on Ithuriel's back, the action of which causes the now red haired angel to stiffen uncontrollably, his mouth pulled down into a dissatisfied grimace, but Kal brushes off the coldness with an assuring smile and begins to rub circles over his skin between the join of his wings. I raise my brows. Still, Ithuriel's eyes do not leave Fangorn."No need to get feisty, Fangorn does not intend to kill the little Queen. I will admit, that was rather cryptic on Fangorn's part, so allow me to explain," he offers with the clear intention of wanting Ithuriel to look at him, and not continuing if he didn't, so with a reluctant grumble, Ithuriel turns his attention back towards Kal, crossing his arms over himself with a poised elegance, his kimono rustling with the action. Kal grins delightedly."Good, now. As Fangorn very crudely suggested, the bracelets do stop your heart, but not in the way you might think. Essentially what they do is silence your entire body. So your beating heart, the rush of blood through your veins, your breathing, even right down to the creak of your bones would make no sound whatsoever. Think of it as being cocooned in hundreds and hundreds of layers of soundproofing material, no sound can get out, no whisper of your existence can be heard. So long as no blood is spilt, you will be practically untraceable. You would effectively be as silent as a vampire, undetectable and untraceable. Of course, people who know you, who realise you have a pulse and still living organs in your body would immediately understand something is off which is why you should not put them on before. But down in the labyrinth, I doubt you will be seeing anyone you know, anyway."After a short moment of processing, the tension in Ithuriel's body subsides. His shoulders drop in relief. "So nobody is dying then?"Kal laughs heartily."No, nobody is dying. Believe me, if Fangorn so much as laid a finger on you two he would be in for some big trouble with my lady. And with me," he says, shooting a quick sideways glance to Ithuriel, as though gauging whether or not he had gone too far. Ithuriel grunts his solemn and irresponsive approval."Well, I suppose the approval of a dragon is better than one of the vampire," he says, rolling his eyes a bit, and I stiffen at the comment, eyeing Fangorn warily across the room, who thankfully remains undisturbed by the offhand nature of the comment, instead offering up a sly grin and raising a cup off tea to the sky."Here here my boy," he laughs, taking a quick sip of the tea, before his face scrunches up in an obvious mixture of disgust and immediate regret as he leans off to the side to spit it out, showering the floor with a flurry of glistening droplets. I grimace, shying away from the scene."Cold," he mutters, setting the cup precariously back down on the side of the table as if he had never picked it up to begin with. Some reckless part of me finds it in myself to scoff."You know, I always presumed being so coldblooded as you are, cooler beverages would not bother you," I say, trying my best not to giggle at the prolonged air of disgust swelling in Fangorn's face, and he lifts his lips in denial, teeth bared against the gloom like a twin set of daggers as he shoots a sharp look at Kal, who in response instantly covers his mouth to hide his smile. I suppose I am not the only one to find myself amused, then. "Yes well, I supposed you never stopped to realise that we vampires drink mostly blood, which if from the source, is warm. Cold beverages don't quite fill us with the same satisfaction, nor do they bring a temporary colour back to our bodies. Which is why," he adds, waving a drunken finger in my general direction, "if you see that boy of yours blushing, that's not his own blood in his cheeks."Fangorn cackles a laugh to himself as though amused by the thought."Right, and with that, I think it's time I best be gone.. I have got hunting to do, those missing people aren't going to track themselves! Now scurry along now all of you, I believe you have a castle of vampires to get back to."
