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Post by hilathic on May 6, 2008 2:52:48 GMT -5
Sitting in the Open Shell waiting for Wraith and Aerin to return home, Hilathic eats a small meal and goes over his thoughts and precisely what he wants to say to Wraith. He had learned much about Wraith's Father after standing in line at the courthouse for hours. His legs vibrated the under side of the table as his feet nervously fell up and down.
Seeing Wraith enter the common room Hilathic brushes back his hood and beams a smile at Aerin who seems to notice him first. Would the boy remember him?
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 6, 2008 21:59:22 GMT -5
[The following assumes that in the week before, Wraith has had an opportunity to purchase another set of clothes for herself and her son.  ] Wraith had taken the day off from her routine drudgery. After a hot breakfast and a decent night's rest, she'd spent most of the day touring the Cage with her son; keeping away from the less reputable places, of course. From the Trioptic Ni'cepona through to the Great Bazaar, and back again, she passed familiar landmarks, pointing them out to her mute son. The child seemed content enough, though she knew his internal battle was far from over. Hiring a two wheeler pony cab from the Tea Street Transit service made for a swifter, more pleasant ride, allowing Aerin some much needed rest. Wraith knew as the day drew to a close, and the evening rush hour traffic clogged the streets, that rest was the best thing for him. His was a torment of mind and soul. If a Bleaker couldn't cure him, what could Wraith possibly do? Arriving at the Open Shell, twenty minutes before the clocktowers chimed out the sixth hour, she paid the driver - including an extra silver piece for his trouble - and ushered Aerin inside. No sooner than she crossed the threshold, doffing her veil and the hood of her wool cloak, a light rain began to fall. It spilled through the hole in the roof, each drop riccocheting off the shells; creating a delightful tinkling harmony. With Aerin by her side, mutely surveying his surroundings and clutching the old modron figurine to his chest, Wraith makes her way to the bar. Hers and the child's appearance has changed somewhat since Hilathic last saw them a week ago. They're dressed better, in sturdier clothes suited to the cooler weather and the current fashions circulating through the working classes of the Clerk's Ward. In addition to her dark gothic robe, and midnight blue corset, Wraith has taken to wearing an ebony wimple, fastened with a simple copper pin beneath her chin. The small boy tugs on her hand then to grab her attention. "What is it?" She asks gently, stooping down to her son's level. He points to a table in the corner. Following the boy's gaze, Wraith hesitates. Her breath catches in her throat. There, seated at the table with his evening meal, was Hilathic, the strange tiefling who helped her not more than a week ago. He'd returned, as he promised, alive and well enough, or so it seemed. Her weariness lifted. Hoisting Aerin up onto her hip, she staggers toward the table and sits down. Almost immediately the flurry of questions she'd kept bottled up, threatens to burst out of her. It was an effort containing them, but with a calming breath she forces herself to relax, and take her time. She didn't want to overwhealm him. "Hilathic? Merciful Apollo, you're alive!" She begins, again feeling the excitement bubble up inside her. Tamping it down, she steadies herself with a deep breath. "What happened? If you'd been gone any longer, I would've tried to find you. Please, tell me, you have brought news? Of the Cult and my father?" The open curiosity and anxiety expressed by her wide purple eyes is hard to miss. Beside her, Aerin seems unaware of his surroundings as he quietly plays with the old toy. |
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Post by hilathic on May 6, 2008 22:35:05 GMT -5
Hilathic's mouth opens to speak, but the words have trouble coming to him, something very rare in the fiendling. Hilathic takes a breath and smiles at Aerin, "I hope you are feeling better my little friend." Hilathic smiles knowing that there are not may of his acquaintances that he can call little.
"I have some information on your father," Hilathic says as he slides the arrest warrant from under his cloak and onto the table. "X'artru Blackmantle could not have been your sire. X'artru was a human Blackguard of Shellindie Mendt. Shellindie is a General and personal bodyguard to Prince Graz'zt..." Hilathic pauses a moment to allow his words to sink in.
"You have to understand... I... I... My mother is Shellindie and she is was a favored of Graz'zt because of her beauty and skill at which she carried out Graz'zt's plots. If X'artru was part of your being raised as an orphan, my mother most likely played a major roll in it."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 7, 2008 2:18:14 GMT -5
Allowing the information to sink in, Wraith can do nothing more than stare at him in shock. She takes the crumpled paper from him, smoothing it between her fingers, only realising then that she'd parted ways with it, and hadn't taken it back. Her hands are trembling visibly. Then as the shock begins to pass, she shakes her head, slowly at first, then more roughly.
"No, I- No. This can't be. He must be my father, surely. I-" She hesitates, staring at the frayed arrest warrant. It shakes violently in her hands and begins to fray even more from the trembling of her fingers. Setting it down carefully, she folds her hands on the table before her; anything to stop their agitated twitching. Tears of frustration gather along her eyelashes, unnoticed.
This was the last thing she needed; more questions without answers, more leads that lead her nowhere, more frustration, more uncertainty, more anxiety, more nights fraught with sleeplessness... more of the weight of existence that she didn't truly desire. Aye, it was an exaggeration, but this was not what she expected!
Then again, Wraith didn't know what she truly expected. She purses her lips thoughtfully. "If X'artru is not my father, then who? Who brought me here into this wretched life?" She laments pitifully, suddenly feeling quite foolish for adopting the name of a man who wasn't even related to her. She stares at the table for a long moment, just running her fingertips along the fine grains in the wood, as though that act alone is enough to ground her; and drag her from the clutches of morbid self-pity.
It is with a shaky sigh that she sits up again, and runs her fingers over her wimple, carefully re-adjusting the cloth folds. "It-it would certainly explain why Drake was looking for him, who ever my sire might be, for taking on the name of a disreputable blackguard." She sighs dejectedly.
Aerin reaches for her then, and she lifts him up, settling the child on her lap. Slowly she rocks him, back and forth, the simple gesture being more than enough to soothe the mother as well. "Why, though? I don't understand any of this. It makes no sodding sense, leaving me with more questions, and anh even bigger hole inside concerning my identity. Who am I, Hilathic? Though I am sure this is the same plaintive lament uttered by many a tiefling orphan..."
Wraith shakes her head, and gently strokes her son's hair. With a soft laugh, she muses at length. "I suppose this means we're brother and sister, then? Or am I mistaken?" In her confusion, however, she seems to have missed an important point in what Hilathic was trying to convey to her.
He was the son of a demon bound in the service of Graz'zt.
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Post by hilathic on May 7, 2008 13:51:11 GMT -5
Hilathic musters a weak laugh at Wraith's suggestion that they are siblings. "No. No. That would be a strange development indeed. Straight from an awful detective story.
According to the cult of Graz'zt you are a direct descendant of Graz'zt himself. I was not able to find out how closely you are related, but it must be a very close relationship. I suspect he could be your grandfather. Though Graz'zt is well known for his lusting of mortal woman. And I have some theories on how you came to be here and how X'artru was mistaken for your father. We can the dark of that another time though.
It is a great honor for me to be able to assist you and help you claim your blood rite," Hilathic tells Wraith as he bows his head.
"Know this though... I have not lied to you. Ever, my Queen. Also, I have not fully told you the truth. I will tell you what I safely can and help you hunt down those who harmed you and Aerin. There are somethings however that I must keep you in the Dark on. My mother... My mothers life could be at stake.
The first lead I have discovered is there is a man in the Cult of Graz'zt who calls himself Fidrath, he is the one who arranged the siezure of your home and most likely plotted the kidnapping of Aerin. I believe you know this man personally."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 7, 2008 21:33:10 GMT -5
The minute the revelation tumbles from Hilathic's lips, Wraith gawks at him in stunned silence. Her eyes widen, beginning to glow with a radiant silver light. All colour drains from her ashen face, lending her a cadaverous mien, offset by her striking eyes. She begins to hyperventillate. Tightness squeezes her heart. Gasping for air, clutching desperately at her chest as a sudden wave of vertigo overwhealms her, she looks ready to collapse; catching herself on the edge of the table before she falls.
Aerin manages to wriggle out of her grasp before his mother collapses, and stands there numbly by her side, at once distressed and uncertain; his shattered mind clearly chained down by his own torments.
There she remains, hunched over, drawing breath into her lungs. Deeply, evenly she breathes, blocking out all other sound, save for the rasping of breath, the pounding of her heart, and the quiet roar in her head. Prince Graz'zt's Legacy... The condemnation echoes in her mind, a malediction and a promise of even worse things to come.
At last, when the shock passes, Wraith sits up. She looks like she's seen a ghost, or stepped out of the Negative Material Plane barely clinging to her life. "The scion of Prince Graz'zt?" She echoes incredulously, and beginsn to shake uncontrollably. Then as the truth of his words takes hold, she shakes her head, denying it; denying all of it. "No-no. No! This can't be." She says more forcefully, stumbling over her words. It was simply too much to absorb, too much to bear; a horrid mantle she didn't want to carry.
Not that she ever had any control over the circumstances of her birth, and ancestry. I wanted to know. I decided to exhume the past... "I-am-not the bastard offspring of that-that..." She can't bring herself to say it, lest she draw His dire attention, even here, beneath the vigilant gaze of Her Serenity.
Glancing at Hilathic again, seeing the open humility, and some fear, upon his face, she knew it was no lie. There was no denying it. She was the offspring of an Abyssal Lord... and it would certainly explain the Cult's interest in her and her son.
Struggling for control again, to put this all into perspective, Wraith heaves an uncertain sigh, and stares at the wall over Hilathic's shoulder. It was no easy task, because who would be proud of such a heritage, save for the ambitious and truly wicked? But she found the strength within. After all, part of her had always suspected Graz'zt was involved - maybe her father had signed a terrible pact with him, and she was intended as a sacrifice? - though she didn't anticipate this.
"Now what?" She says with a bitter laugh. "I don't want to risk putting your own kin in any further danger." Frowning again, she lets Hilathic's final words sink in. Wraith adamantly shakes her head again. "Fidrath? No, I never knew a basher by that name. The Fated took my home, tried telling me my adoptive father, Drake, was behind in his payments. I couldn't spot up the five thousand gold Ladies then and there, so I lost everything."
Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Wraith murmurs at length. She seldom delved into memories these days that caused her such pain, but aside from her colleagues at the Mortuary - and very recently, her friend Hadrian - only one other individual came to mind. "Aside from colleagues, and the scarce few friends I have, the only berk I ever knew personally was Marrak, a lustful Fated I wish I never had the misfortune of laying eyes upon." She spits with obvious contempt, and sorrow. "He took something from me I can't replace, and if it wasn't for him I would've been by myu mother's side when she died."
[OOC: I don't really know what to write on Aerin's behalf, given that Wraith doesn't fully know what happened to him, or even what he's thinking/feeling.]
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Post by hilathic on May 7, 2008 21:46:52 GMT -5
Seeing the horror on Wraith's face and the pain this news seems to have caused her, causes Hilathic to worry noticeably. "Possibly being the child of Graz'zt, is that so horrible? Think of the protection it could afford Aerin. The life of privilege he would have." Seeing Wraith's face turning towards horror at his words Hilathic stops and apologizes, "I am sorry. I was raised differently. Let us talk about something else...
This man, Fidrath, radiates some heat, about him and claims to have... taken your virginity?" Hilathic speaks in a questioning tone hoping the additional information will help Wraith identify the man known as Fidrath.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 8, 2008 2:28:58 GMT -5
Seeing the horror on Wraith's face and the pain this news seems to have caused her, causes Hilathic to worry noticeably. "Possibly being the child of Graz'zt, is that so horrible? Think of the protection it could afford Aerin. The life of privilege he would have." Seeing Wraith's face turning towards horror at his words Hilathic stops and apologizes, "I am sorry. I was raised differently. Let us talk about something else... Wraith sighs, torn more by uncertainty than anything else. Now that she had this information, and seeing the unmasked alarm upon Hilathic's face, she didn't know what to think, or do. Though they shared a similar heritage, it was clear they were raised in different cultures. She lived a sheltered life, had never even left the Cage. It wasn't surprising he felt the way he did then, given that he confessed his mother was the Chosen of Graz'zt. She wet her lips, choosing her words carefully, suddenly fearful that anything she might say next would result in hurt feelings, rejection, him abandoning her, or worse. The prospect of a life of privelege and protection for her son was horribly tempting. What poor mother wouldn't want that? But at the same token, given she had some practical knowledge of the Fiends, the Tanar'ri in particular, who was barmy enough to accept a gift from an Abyssal Lord? Never take candy from a smiling fiend... Was an all too common children's phrase in Sigil. Wraith cringes, thinking back to her visit with A'Kin earlier that day to purchase some supplies. For no apparent reason, as she was about to leave, he pressed something into Aerin's hand; the modron doll. Deflating before Hilathic's eyes, Wraith reaches across the table and takes his hand in hers. "No, please cutter, continue. I implore you. I have a right to know. I want to know. For too long I've waited and wondered. It's just that... this wasn't what I expected. I don't know what I expected." She sincerely hoped he wasn't going to harm her, or put her in a position where she was bound against her will. Or worse, bound because of her ignorance. But at the same time she didn't want to lose his help. She still felt obliged to him for what he'd done for her, and she wasn't one to hurt another's feelings, or turn down charity when offered. Though the protection of Graz'zt was far from charitable... |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 8, 2008 2:31:43 GMT -5
This man, Fidrath, radiates some heat, about him and claims to have... taken your virginity?" [/color] Hilathic speaks in a questioning tone hoping the additional information will help Wraith identify the man known as Fidrath.[/quote] As soon as the words pass Hilathic's lips, she bursts into tears. Marrak. It had to be... Hiding her face in shame, she blubbers pitifully. "There was a man, Marrak, a genasi with the black skin and red hair of an efreet, and the proud regal mien befitting any lord. He was Drake's accountant, and tax collector among other things, handling most of the family's financial records because my mother, Yrrina, was too sick to do anything but remain in bed all day.
He was also my carer when Drake was called away on military service outside Sigil. He... he always made me feel uneasy, violated somehow, with his slow smoldering glances, and ever watchful gaze." Wraith pauses to wet her lips again, and squeezes Hilathic's hand with trembling fingers. "One night, only five years ago, I'd taken my leave of my mother to let her rest. She was so weak. Marrak cornered me in the hallway. He was disgusted, pitiless at first. Then he seduced me. Worse, I enjoyed every moment of it." Sobbing again, she retracts her hand, and clasps her fingers on the table before her. The effort of her wretched confession has reduced her to a trembling heap. "He remained in my room. I allowed him to comfort me, and take me again during the night. But the next morning, he was gone, supposedly called away to Avalas, as explained in the letter he left behind. To add insult to injury, the berk paid me for my services, with gold and silver no less." She spits. Her sanguinous stench rises about her in a noxious cloud, causing Aerin to move closer to Hilathic. Her eyes flicker like amethyst mercury, and her nails scratch the table's lacquered surface. "His letter hastilly closed by saying how sorry he was to inform me that my mother had passed away during the night. Marrak ruined me, reduced me to the life of a whore, because I felt my life was worth nothing more than that. I have never forgiven him for that." Her breath hitches as she bites back another bitter sob, and barks a sarcastic laugh instead. "You want to know something else? The bastard had the audacity to visit me mid last year, to inform me I was behind in my taxes, and to ensure that my acquisition of the estate went smoothly. He fornicated with me again while my son was asleep upstairs, then left me crying by the fireplace."Wraith falls silent as the barbed barrage saps the strength from her. Then she adds as an after thought. "I'll never forget what he looked like. His memory has been seered into my mind like a brand. It's a stain no catharsis will remove. I remember how his kiss was like ash, strangely sweet and intoxicating, his eyes were livid coals, as his skin was like fire. It felt like I was being plundered by the flame itself." Meeting Hilathic's eyes, shame stains her cheeks red, and she bows her head humbly. "Forgive me for my unchaste speach, but nothing short of brutal honesty will suffice here." |
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Post by hilathic on May 8, 2008 12:47:54 GMT -5
"This then is the man you seek. The man who will have answers as to why the Cult of Graz'zt has chosen to torture the very one they should be prostrating themselves before. I would have taken this man by force and brought him before you. I am afraid though, I am not much use in a battle, which I have explained before."
Hilathic reaches down and puts an arm around Aerin, as the boy had made his way to his side. "Can you be strong for your mother, Aerin? And what's this do you have a new toy? Still not going to talk to me, my little friend?" The act of smiling brings Hilathic's chiseled features into focus and he suddenly looks very handsome in this light.
Looking back to Wraith, "You too, must be strong. For the boy. Even if this life you where born into is not what you wish, this life will continue to hunt you. It is best you learn this because someday others, Paladin's, Cleric's, those who think they do good, may come for you. Just like these evil men have come for you trying to break you, bend you to their will in some sick attempt to gain control of Graz'zt.
We must act against these men who brought you harm. The only way they will let you and Aerin be is if they fear you. Fear the powers that Graz'zt's blood has given you. Fear the strength of your resolve to strike a wrathful justice upon them. Fear the plots and intrigue you can use against them. I know this is not your way, but I can help you. Where you might falter, I will not. This is what my mother has trained me for my entire life." Hilathic says this all in a hushed tone so that only Wraith can hear him. Even little Aerin he holds close to him his head pressed against his side and his right arm covering his ear as he plays with the boys doll making it dance before him.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 10, 2008 5:57:11 GMT -5
Drying her eyes, Wraith heaves a resolute sigh. Hilathic was right. There was no sense in hiding from it, because sooner or later she'd be hunted down and destroyed, or worse; if not by the Cult, then by misguided do-gooders who actually did more harm than good in the multiverse with their biases and quick judgements. Sooner or later she would have to face - nay, embrace - her heritage, because it was the only way she could cow her enemies, and teach them not to cross her and her son again.
Wraith studies Hilathic's handsome face in the cool blue lighting. His animated smile, coupled with the sincerity in his eyes, and the way he adroitly manipulates the modron doll - distracting her son - gives her a spark of hope. She knew he'd stick by her and her son, no matter what.
That knowledge was enough to give her the strength she needed to make her decision, because really, what other choice did she have? I'll need all the friends I can get in the battle ahead...
Wraith steels herself with a deep breath, and nods. "Yes, you're right. I can't hide from it. It's in my son's best interests, and my own that I fight them, show them that I am not one to be crossed twice. But I'll need you to stand by me through this." She murmurs just as softly. Though her jaw is set in a grim line of determination, a faint tremor of fear creeps into her voice. Something clearly still troubles her.
"Considering what you've told me now," She begins, pausing to wet her lips. "I fear this Fidrath - Marrak - will do all in his power to use my heritage against me. He was the trusted confidante of my adopted father, a respected Mercykiller, and he always presented himself as a wealthy man. I fear he will use extortion, leak information about me to the Harmonium. And who do you think the Law will defend if that happens? Him, a seemingly respectable man, or me, the poor bastard child of a Tanar'ri prince?" She shakes her head tearfully. But rather than giving in to the sorrow, crushing bitterness and rage sweeps up from the blackest pits inside her; hidden until now. Disgusted that she - nay, her son! - had been used so barbarically, she vows, so long as she drew breath, she would not become Fidrath's victim again.
Squeezing her hands into tight fists, weathering the sharp spurt of rage, Wraith hisses. "I want this Fidrath punished. I want him to suffer as I and my son has suffered, but he will not die for this. Death would be too easy for him. No, he will live on to learn this is the price for hurting me, and my own." The cloying miasma, of blood mixed with brimstone, and a hint of rot beneath the ash, rises about her in a noisome cloud. Her eyes flash, hot one moment, then cold like amethyst ice the next.
"I want him castrated. I want his hands cut off. I want his eyes and tongue gouged out. I want the soles of his feet slit, and salt rubbed into the wounds. I want this done to him for all he has done to me and Aerin..." Her voice breaks with emotion, as the hideousness of her words presses down upon her gentle spirit. "I want him crippled and humbled by his injuries, so that he'll never harm any other again."
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Post by hilathic on May 10, 2008 20:10:22 GMT -5
"Our paths are now intertwined. I must now see this through with you, no matter the cost.
Can you arrange a meeting with this man? Men like this are over confident, assured of them selves. He probably believes you are one of his possessions and that you love him. We can use this to our advantage. Seduce him with food, wine and praise of himself. That should lower his guard so we can act.
You said you are a Doctor, do you have poisons to put a man to sleep and keep him that way? Once we have captured him we can bring him to my kip under the city and learn the true dark of the cults intentions. We may even be able to find proof that you did not owe taxes and your home was stole from you. Take back the things they have done to you. I am sure a safe home would go a long ways to helping Aerin's condition as well."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 11, 2008 22:02:45 GMT -5
"Our paths are now intertwined. I must now see this through with you, no matter the cost.
Can you arrange a meeting with this man? Men like this are over confident, assured of them selves. He probably believes you are one of his possessions and that you love him. We can use this to our advantage. Seduce him with food, wine and praise of himself. That should lower his guard so we can act.
You said you are a Doctor, do you have poisons to put a man to sleep and keep him that way? Once we have captured him we can bring him to my kip under the city and learn the true dark of the cults intentions. We may even be able to find proof that you did not owe taxes and your home was stole from you. Take back the things they have done to you. I am sure a safe home would go a long ways to helping Aerin's condition as well." Wraith frowns thoughtfully, and fingers her lower lip. Her sudden spurt of rage cools enough, allowing her to consider his words. "I suppose I can. I understand he can be found banging around the Hall of Records, or if not there, it shouldn't be too hard to track him down. Thinking about it now, I know of someone who may be able to arrange a meeting on my behalf." She murmurs, considering pulling in a favour from John, in exchange for her services. Tending to his health herself was far better than leaving the man in the care of butchers such as Ridnir Tetch.
"But that's only if I can't find him myself." She didn't like the prospect of being near Marrak - Fidrath - and entertaining him with such adoration and praise. Not after his barbaric treatment of her son, and his lack of consideration for anyone but himself. The selfish bastard... But luckily hedonists like him were so easily seduced by creature comforts. It was a devious plan, clever and cruel... perfect for delivering the message he wouldn't soon forget. Wraith nods slowly. "Yes, I'm a doctor, a highly skilled one, too, if I may say. Though I don't carry poisons on me." She leans close to Hilathic, lowering her voice. Her words were for his ears alone. "But I could easily synthesize one, given the right amount of time and tools. Failing that a trip to the Friendly Fiend should turn up some laudanum or nepenthe, or the more potent combination of the former mixed with absinthe. I doubt it'd render him unconscious, but the resultant stupor should make him more complisant. I've... had to resort to narcotics on rare occassions, to ease a painful passing, or to sedate a struggling or distressed patient." She whispers, and sits back in her chair. "If he has stolen my home from me, I want it back, and I'll fight him for it, with wit, twisted words, or in Court, if need be. I won't allow some Taker upstart claim he has the right to my house simply because he had the power to take it from me."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 12, 2008 2:08:53 GMT -5
Pausing for a cursory glance at her surroundings, again to be certain no one is observing them, Wraith leans close to whisper to Hilathic. "Do you know where this Fidrath lives, or better yet, where he works? I could pay a visit to the Hall of Records, disguising my intentions as a desire to purchase a property - namely ten Doomguard Walk, my former home - but that might take too much time, and unnecessary paperwork." She pauses, and reaches out to beckon Aerin closer again; the stench of her had faded to a faint sulphuric miasma, so it shouldn't frighten him off again.
"Unless you can't reveal his whereabouts because it might look too suspicious, and place your mother, or yourself at risk." Wraith hesitates for a moment as another thought occured to her. "Fidrath, you spoke to him personally, didn't you? Just what did he say about me, exactly..."
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Post by hilathic on May 12, 2008 2:55:38 GMT -5
"I know nothing of this man's true identity accept what I have just learned from you. The cult hides there names and their faces even from each other. And no I did not speak to him directly, I spoke to one within the cult who has heard him lann a tale of him taking your virginity all the while planning to take your home from you. He is very boastful, and proud of what he has done to you. If nothing else we should be able to hire a messenger to find him and deliver a letter saying that you would like to meet with him."
Hilathic pauses and drinks from the water in his glass to clear his dried throat. "My mother will be safe as long as Graz'zt never suspects her or her minions in your disappearance."
Allowing Aerin to take the roll from his plate, Hilathic sets down his silverware and wipes his mouth with his napkin. Folding it neatly and placing is before him he continues, "Their is still more I have learned as well, but I do not have the full story, and I am unsure you wish me to lann you the half story I have heard. It is most likely the ultimate reason they are attacking you, and why I believe they are trying to break you to their will. Someone with a broken spirit is much easier to manipulate then someone strong and confident."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 12, 2008 20:56:28 GMT -5
Wraith feels her fingers clench, digging her nails into the table's laquered surface before her. Her jaw twitches, and an ugly bruised light flares within her eyes. The musk of her returns, even stronger than before. "He-he bragged about me?" She stammers, disbelieving, as she struggles to come to terms with the weight of each revelation. Disgust and shame stain her pale cheeks red. Hatred roils inside her, crashing upon the breakers of her soul. "He bragged about me?" She echoes in a softer voice, shaing her head stubbornly as though she wanted to deny it, but ultimately could not.
The wretched truth was there before her, reflected in Hilathic's sunken red eyes. "He bragged about me? About something so intimate, so sacred?" She hisses scornfully, her ire rising with the heat in her blood, boiling it in her veins. The palm of her hand slams down upon the table, upsetting Hilathic's meal, and causes the cup to wobble. Her eyes seethe like pools of molten silver in the weird blue lighting. "He stole my chastity, nay, reduced me to the life of prostitution just so he could steal my house from me? Oh, he will pay for this. He will pay for this insult dearly." She growls in a low, threatening voice.
Wraith's fists clench so tightly the knuckles turn white, and pop loudly. She bears her sharklike teeth in a rictus hiss as she pronounces. "Tell me everything you know, Hilathic. I don't care how sordid it is. Spill the chant... it will only condemn them further in my eyes."
She blinks rapidly, twitching involuntarily as something in her head snaps into place. "My disappearance?" She ventures, allowing her anger to simmer long enough to let reason take control. "What do you mean?"
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Post by hilathic on May 12, 2008 21:45:20 GMT -5
Hilathic sighs deeply realizing he had said to much about the very thing he did not want to speak about. "If you are not Blackmantle's child, and the cult of Graz'zt believes you are a close relationship to Graz'zt maybe even his offspring, it would lead me to theorize that you where taken, perhaps kidnapped from that life by X'artru Blackmantle. Blackmantle being one of my mothers henchman would bring me to conclude that she had something to do with your being in the care of Blackmantle. Though I would doubt my mothers goal would have been to have you left here in the Cage. This is all conjecture of course and I could be way way off base." Hilathic finishes the last bit on his plate and hands it to the serving wench as she comes by to keep any further accidents from happening.
Returning his attention back to Wraith he continues his other train of thought. "Now this is further conjecture on my part based on a few facts I know. Normally I don't like to speak like this but you may be able to fill in some holes or have additional knowledge.
The Cult of Graz'zt has what they call a Mantle of Horns, one of several powerful artifacts that Graz'zt had created for his daughters. Some in the cult wanted to present this mantle to you and allow you to fulfill whatever destiny was meant for you. Some wanted to ingrain themselves to your presence to see if you where right for such an honor. Then there is what actually happened. The head or most powerful member of the cult the man who actually possesses the mantle instead decided to try to bring out the evil in you by taking away the things you held most dear. I believe this was a lie, a lie to all the other cultist who would see you as their god. I believe the leader of the cult wanted to break your will, dominate you to his will. For what purpose would be a total guess, though I am sure you can see the possibilities of controlling one of Graz'zt descendants while she is in possession of a powerful artifact.
I also see the irony in the rage it has now caused in you. The precise thing that claimed to be the reason for taking your home and Aerin from you. So this Mantle of Horns seems to be the reason this cult is after you. Most of them believe you are the only one who can wear it. It may be wise of us to seek out this mantle as well. We could make it into a powerful tool for us, once we learn it's secrets."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 13, 2008 1:47:35 GMT -5
Wraith stares at him blankly. If her eyes were wide before, they'd become even wider now. She opens her mouth to speak, fights to comprehend all he has said, but it merely washes over her; settling as sediment in the back of her mind. It was too much to think about right now, she decided, and wonders if this is what she truly wanted to know after all.
Too late for that now.
Shaking her head, Wraith sighs and mutters. "I think-I think I'll need to sleep on this, cutter. It's all... too much to absorb right now." The beleagured woman sags weakly against the table. She looks like she's ready to fall asleep, faint, or a mix of both. Either way her unstable condition appears to be deteriorating by the minute. She'd make a Sinker or a Madman proud with her dazzling flights of rage and melancholia, interspersed with Apathy between.
"If it suits you, cutter, I would have you remain with us again, at least for tonight." She sighs wearily, sitting up straight again; or rather, sags against her chair instead. "I think Aerin is beginning to warm up to you." She beckons her child closer, but much to her dismay, the little boy clings to his doll and shuffles closer to Hilathic.
Wraith deflates in her chair, and drops her head into her hands. Muffled sobs slip between her pale fingers.
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Post by hilathic on May 13, 2008 2:06:16 GMT -5
"I understand. Come Aerin, can you help me get your mother to bed? She is very tired." As Aerin nods his head, Hilathic puts his arm around Wraiths shoulders and helps her up to her room.
Once in her room, Hilathic plays Wraith a lullaby until she finally overtaken by her wariness and falls asleep. Hilathic draws Aerin a bath to help relax the boy.
"You know your mother is not upset at you, right?" Hilathic asks Aerin will the boy plays with two hollowed out sticks, pretending they are boats.
Aerin lowers his head meekly nodding yes to Hilathic.
Gently raising Aerin's head so he is looking directly into his eyes Hilathic speaks once again to Aerin, "It is not your fault what happened in that awful place. And your mother does not blame you, she is worried for you and your safety. Her and I are going to make you safe Aerin, there is no need to be afraid. Do you understand?"
Aerin smiles at the small fiendling and nods his head affirmative. A worry seems to lift from the boy as Hilathic finishes getting him cleaned up and put to bed.
Starting a small fire for take the chill from the damp caged air, Hilathic plays his harmonica softly until he also falls asleep.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 13, 2008 21:20:00 GMT -5
Wraith sags wearily against Hilathic as he guides her away from the table, and up the stairs to her room. It was nice to at least have someone she could lean on; and she does so, offering him a faint smile of gratitude. She was feather light and so frail, that Hilathic had little trouble supporting her weight. She looked like the reed that would snap in the wind.
Half leaning, half walking up the stairs, she unlocks the door, and allows the small man to guide her inside.
Wraith sinks down onto the soft mattress with a tired groan, and begins to loosen the corset laces. Unhooking the busk, releasing her fettered form from the stiff garment, she hangs it over the foot of the bed. She unwraps her wimple, kicks off her boots, and sheds her cloak and robe without any care for where she leaves them. Exhaustion had all but overtaken her.
Settling beneath the warm blankets, her head hits the pillow, and she closes her eyes. No sooner than Hilathic began to play his song, Wraith drifted off to sleep. Her angst erased by the caress of slumber, she is truly beautiful to look upon; sublime like the fallen angel in repose. A cloud of ebony and smoky sapphire tresses frames her porcelain face; Her demon-kissed perfection contrasted by the thin, faded scar dominating her pale shoulder.
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