RPG Harlequin,Raiha and a cask of amontillado

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante wasn't sure how he had communicated to the automaton that a bottle would be appreciated, but it had shown up anyway. He now held it in one hand, most of its contents empty. Wait...this was the second bottle. In how long? Probably less than an hour. He had a feeling he should be unconscious. Seemed he'd actually lived up to his boast of tolerance. He stumbled along, feeling his way more than seeing. He cleared his head slightly, realising where he was. He'd been lead past here before. Lifé's room. His was a few turns ahead. He stumbled along, and heard a hiss. Lifé again.

He started to turn, to wonder what the hell she was on about, when Ilmiwyrth's hand closed over his shoulder and yanked him backwards.[/I]

Ilmiwyrth: I wouldn't.

Vichante: I....dont know whash you shink Im doing, but shour not right....

Ilmiwyrth: Gods you're drunk.

Vichante: Scho?

[I]Ilmiwyrth tightened his grip and dragged Vichante back to his room. When he got there, he through him onto the bed. He attempted to pry the bottle out of his fingers, and failed. Vichante glared at him.[/I]

Vichante: I'd break thish and hit you wish it...but it would be a washte of good brew

[I]Ilmiwyrth shook his head in disgust and walked out, making sure the door was firmly closed behind him. The latch closed both ways, so Ilmiwyrth locked it from the outside. He'd let him out in the morning, assuming he felt like being remotely human. Ilmiwyrth absently snorted, thinking in amusement of the hangover Vichante would have.

Inside, Vichante slumped against the bed head, intoxicated amusement giving way to tears. He hd nothing anymore. As much as he'd despised the god in question, Dhirak's ideals had given Vichante purpose. Before that seemed a dream, and Vichante knew he hadn't done anything with his life anyway. So what had he know? The only worldly possessions he had were the clothes he had worn, and he wasn't even sure where they were. He had no real skills except brawling, and had a lot of enemies. He had no purpose to his life. He had no real reason to live at all. And he did nothing except drown himself in alcohol.

The bottle flew across the room and smashed againt the wall, glass shards falling to the floor. The liquid glittered along with the shards, dazzling Vichante a moment. He looked at a particularly long shard, then down at his still injured wrist. He sighed bitterly and shook his head. He couldn't do that either. He certainly wasn't going to spend eternity in Dhirak's clutches, but he doubted he'd ever atone. He didn't really care. He was too drunk to care. He balled his fist and struck the wall, barking his knuckles. In frustration and desolation, he didn't care. Pure grief welled up, despair incarnate. He shoved it down, and let the alcohol fog his mind, drag him down into oblivion.[/font][/color][/I]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]She stood up and flicked the needle into her hand. With light padding steps, almost undetectable, she entered Vichante's room with the aid of her nails in the key slot.

He was drunk, the smell was a dead giveaway, so were his half open eyes. She sat down next to him, hands caressing his pained face.

"He isn't worth it."

"I think he is. Leave me alone. If you actually care for him, let me do this."

She shoved him out of her mind with a fierce twist and turned back to Vichante. He turned in his sleep and she bent down. Her body gave off the healing scent of moonflowers, and from her mouth, she removed an amethstoi. His body reacted, violently. She held him down with one hand and shoved the gem into his mouth. He screamed aloud, then sat up straight, dead sober. The first thing he saw was a naked female sitting next to him, face half bruised.[/i]

Lifé: How do you feel?[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Sobriety, thoughts coalescing into painful clarity, bringing everything crashing down around him, was something he could have done without. He simply glared at Lifé, taking a long time to answer.[/I]

Vichante: A lot worse than I did a minute ago. Why did you do it?

Lifé: Because you shouldn't have done it to yourself in the first place.

[I]Vichante sighed bitterly and leant back against the wall, staring at some unknown spot on the ceiling.[/I]

Vichante: Comfortably numb you know. I was comfortably numb. There's no other real way for me to get any kind of peace, not anymore. There's not any real point to anything else. Surely you wouldn't object to me ruining my already ruined life some more.

Lifé: And just how is your life ruined right now?

Vichante: Asiding having no real reason to it, certainly no direction, and not a long expectancy? I also happen not to be drunk anymore.

[I]The slap was hard, surprisingly solid. Vichante's head whipped around, he spat blood. He looked back at Lifé, his expression unchanged. Suddenly, his hand shot out, taking her by the throat.[/I]

Vichante: You know how you can't rape the willing?

[I]Her eyes widened slightly, she hadn't expected this kind of reaction.[/I]

Vichante: You find you don't want to.

[I]He shoved her away, not hard, but making sure she moved back. He stood up slowly, as if uncertain. He looked at his injured knuckles, and spun, striking the wall again, as hard as he could. This time with the heel of his hand. The smooth wall showed no reaction, neither did his hand. Vichante sighed, and looked back to Lifé.[/I]

Vichante: The last thing I need right now is a crusading reformer trying to motivate me.

Lifé: That wasn't what I was doing.

Vichante: What were you doing?

Lifé: Saving your life.

Vichante: Excuse me for not appreciating that.

[I]The bitterness in his tone was starting to shock her.[/I]

Lifé: What the hell is your problem! You've basically been rescued from certain death, rescued from the most corrupt beings known, and allowed a certain measure of redemption. You've been allowed life itself. Why the hell do you not take that chance?

Vichante: Because all things considered, how can I live in any normal society?

Lifé: How can any of us. Society doesn't have to be normal. Now, if you don't quit feeling sorry for yourself, and do something about this glass, I'll have Ilmiwyrth rearrange your clothing into a swarm of invisible lice.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]She smiled at him, a strange gesture considering what he put her through, then flicked the amesthoi out of his mouth and back into her own. She touched the side of his face, more like a sister than a lover, then left the room.

Ilmiwyrth was waiting out in the hall.[/i]

Lifé: He's offa cloud nine.

Ilmiwyrth: Why did you do it?

Lifé: It's an oath of mine. Sworn to the Facelss god. To aid those with the potetntial to change.

Ilmiwyrth: And you see this in Vichante.

Lifé: Of course I do. I'm not as big a fool as you think. He's worth something.

Ilmiwyrth: ......you've hardly known him.

Lifé: What of it?[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Ilmiwyrth: What of it indeed. You say you know him, but I know the type. He'll tear himself apart with recrimination until he kills himself, and if he doesn't do that, he'll take his resentment out on someone else, which will just further the problem.

Lifé: Not if he's guided onto another path.

Ilmiwyrth: Do you really think anyone could guide Vichante into doing anything? Despite his rather weak, nasty conscience, and his desperate need to believe in something, his strength of will is not something that is easily compromised.

Lifé: Then we'll simply have to be subtle.

Ilmiwyrth: You'd better be right.

[I]There was a loud string of cursing from inside the room. Ilmiwyrth sighed, and closed his eyes a moment. There was a strained thank you from Vichante, then silence.[/I]

Ilmiwyrth: He's not exactly domestically skilled...

Lifé: All he had to do was clear up some broken glass.

Ilmiwyrth: All he had to do was work out what he had to do with it. He didn't do to well.

[I]Lifé took another look at the door, biting her lower lip ever so slightly.[/I]

Ilmiwyrth: Just go back to bed. We'll deal with him in the morning.

[I]Ilmiwyrth turned and walked away, leaving Lifé to wait a long moment before also retiring.[/font][/color][/I]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]She woke up the next morning, calm and collected. Her clothes almost flew onto her body, and she walked into the hallway. Vichante and Ilmiwyrth were still fast asleep. She twisted back her hair and sighed. A alcoholic, a sadistic matter changer, and a Dorobo witch. And here she stood, waiting quietly.

The doors opened siemoltaneously and she smiled.[/i]

Lifé: Goodmorning gentlemen. Dfid we sleep well?

Ilmiwyrth: Certainly.

Vichante: ....ugh.[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante glared at her for a second, then sighed.[/I]

Vichante: You know perfectly well that sleep is bad.

Lifé: Pity. You'll need it.

Vichante: For what? Screwing my life up more than it already is?

Lifé: No, we're going to do that for you.

Ilmiwyrth: And probably enjoy it more than you would anyway.

Vichante: And that just changes everything. Let's just get this over with.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]The hands greeted them, leading them down the hall. Before they realized it, they were at the entrance to the Forest opening. Kryas was there, holding her staff. She bowed, handed their clothes back to them, and opened the doors. The hands pressed on them haversacks of food, then receeded into the halls. Lifé bowed in thanks, then left without further word. The men followed, curious, but not saying anything. As soon as they were out of earshot, Ilmiwyrth turned on her.[/i]

Lifé: What?

Ilmiwyrth: What the hell was that?

Lifé: ....Kryas doesn't talk in the morning, nor does she give advice. She told me everything last night.

Vichante: In a dream I suppose.

Lifé: Now that you mention it, yes she did. She told us to continue on our way, and to see the Dragourets.

Ilmiwyrth: They're not real.

Lifé: Wanna bet?[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Ilmiwyrth: Yes. They exist, but they're a non-entity. Paradoxical nasty little things that exist by not existing.

Lifé: Which is why you don't get along with them?

Ilimiwyrth: That's a major factor, yes.

Lifé: Hopefully they'll keep you off balance for me then.

Vichante: Another group of ethereals that wants to kill me...

Lifé: So?

Vichante: Just mentally preparing myself.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]She rolled her eyes at the men's ignorance. Not only were the Dragourets the nicest people you could ever want to meet, they also were flesh and blood. Lifé touched a scar on her neck gingerly. Yeah, they were real. She walked through the forest, then picked up a quicker pace. They followed without question.

An hour later, she stopped short, braething lightly. They had reached a huge clearing, and yet another waterfall, full of ferns and scores strangely shaped rocks. Lifé smiled to herself and clapped her hands.[/i]

Vichante: If you believe in faries...

Lifé: LIBERTINE!

[i]Instantly, the rocks melted down into full sized Dragourets. At least a hundred winged beasts stood up en masse and stared at the newcomers. The alpha male, a huge horned creature, named Rinkayum, stepped forwards. Lifé went up on her tip toes and kissed his hands. He chuckled and kissed her's back.[/i]

Rinkayum: Welcome.[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Ilmiwyrth folded his arms and scowled. Rinkayum turned and smiled brightly at him.[/I]

Rinkayum: We're not going to have the same problem we had last time are we?

Ilmiwyrth: I doubt it. The displacement was...unsettling.

Lifé: Oh?

Ilmiwyrth: Like I said, they're not, technically speaking, real. They exist as a form of anti-matter. At our last meeting, I was less than happy, and attempted some things I shouldn't have. Merely allow me to say that the inverse universe to this one is not pleasant.

Vichante: Do me a favour and pull some stuff then. This universe can't get much worse.

Ilmiwyrth: Vichante, have you ever worn pink and liked it? Or giggled coquettishly?

Vichante: Bad inverse, bad inverse...[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

.[COLOR=royalblue][i]Rinkayum put his arms around Lifé's shoulders and smiled at Vichante. His eyes flickered ever so slightly, then went normal again. Vichante paused, then continued looking around. Lifé waved to the two men, who were being approached by two other female's, then followed Rinkayum's lead.

He led her into a quiet grotto, surrounded by nothing but rushing water. But it was completely silent. She smiled at him.[/i]

Rinkayum: So what is this all about?

Lifé: A spat between the gods and goddesses. What does Ochkik Haddah tell you?

Rinkayum: I think you know the answer to that. Ever since you left us, we've been waiting. And now that you're back...we're pleased.

Lifé: Have your feelings changed?

[i]He put his huge hands around her face, touching her hair, eyes, lips. Then he let their thoughts pass back and forth. She smiled up at him, then let him hug her.[/i]

Lifé: Alright then.[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante mumbled something about being savaged by a direwolf, but no one really thought it was funny. Of course, at the time, Vichante was busy staring at the veins in his wrists, so humour probably wasn't a forte at the moment. Ilmiwyrth said something to that effect, Vichante merely looked at him a second or two.[/I]

Vichante: Sociopathic apathy.

Ilmiwyrth: You're on about what now?

Vichante: I'd kill you if I cared. Why are we here anyway?

Lifé: You have anywhere better to go?

Vichante: Depends on who's estimation you base that on.

Ilmiwyrth: In a minute, I'm really going to slap you down you know.

Vichante: Pretty certain, yeah.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]Rinkayum smiled to himself. He'd seen worse. But this...Vichante was it? ....was pretty far gone. His daughter, waited nearby. She purred as she watched the two men move.....flicking orange hair over her shoulders. Lifé watched her out of the corner of her eyes....smiling to herself.[/i]

Lifé: Come over here Shalistrae. Meet my ....companions.

Ilmiwyrth: I'm so flattered.

[i]She sauntered over, wings furled lazily. Then she gave the two men the "elevator eyes..."[/i]

Shalistrae: Cute.

Lifé: Especially when they're drunk.

Vichante: Not funny.

Lifé: Oh but it is....[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Vichante: I can make a fool of myself while perfectly sober, I'll have you know.

[I]If he'd said it in some kind of affected accent, it may just have been remotely amusing. In a tired, sarcastic, bitter enunciation, it was merely sorrowful. Ilmiwyrth at last let out a frustated sigh and spun, backhanding Vichante. The fallen cleric allowed the blow to fell him and lay motionless on the ground a moment before adjusting his position to something slightly more comfortable, showing no signs of getting up any time soon. Ilmiwyrth nudged him in the ribs a few times, but didn't get a response. He contemplated a swift break, but decided against it.

Blood did tend to stain after all. Ilmiwyrth turned back to the others, his expression not particularly conducive to an explanation. He gave one anyway, though it definately sounded forced.[/I]

Ilmiywrth: "The-son-of-a-*****-a-*****-had-it-coming" is a good enough excuse for anyone.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]She sighed and looked at Shalistrae. The Dragouret picked up the fallen cleric and carried him up to her eyrie. Lifé looked not in the least surprised....she could read the emotions of man and beast. Shalistrae was pretty far gone. She smiled. Then she curled her arm around Ilmiywrth's and led him to the Inner hall. They were greeted by several child Dragourets, holding bushel baskets of grapes and flowers. Lifé greeted them in their howling whispering language, then turned to Ilmiywrth.[/i]

Lifé: They're so cute at that age.

Ilmiywrth: And they're not even drunk.

Lifé: Wine here is strictly prohibited to adults over the age of 200. Those little ones must have been only 50.

Ilmiywrth: Fascinating.

Lifé: You get used to it after awhile. Come on. I'll show you to your room.[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante waited to be set down before bothering to show a hint of movement. And all he did then was attempt to walk away. Shalistrae glared at him, and he turned, sighed, and sat on the floor. He sat silently a moment before looking up, narrowing his eyes, and just plain bitching.[/I]

Vichante: How the hell is it that no matter what I do, no matter what kind of independant stand I try to make, no matter how logical or correct the grounds, reasons, motivations whatever, I not only end up being manipulated into performing whatever task, action, thought or intent desired by manipulatee, but am also some how connived into believing that it would be the best course of action!

Shalistrae: Because if you had an alternative, you'd take it.

Vichante: Point. Doesn't change the problem though

Shalistrae: That you're hopelessly easy to manipulate?

[I]Vichante stood slowly, straightening.[/I]

Vichante: That I am. But so's everyone else.

Shalistrae: oh?

Vichante: After all, you got suckered into lugging me around.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue]Shalistrae: I volunteered you dimwit.

Vichante: And why....pray tell?

Shalistrae: You looked kinda pathetic, one could say I felt sorry for you.

[i]He groaned and rubbed his temples slowly. This just wasn't fair.

Shalistrae smiled at him, then reached into her closet and pulled out a cloak.[/i]

Shalistrae: Here. You'll need this.

Vichante: Why?

Shalistrae: There's a storm coming.

Vichante: I suppose that's why you took me here?

Shalistrae: Of course....it's not like I wanted to sleep with you.[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Vichante: Yet I'm surrounded by people who still give the impression that they do.

Shalistrae: Oh? Ilmiwyrth?

Vichante: Wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Shalistrae: You really are refreshingly morbid you know.

Vichante: It's a character defect.

[I]Taking the proffered cloak, he swept past her without a further word. Not quickly, but with a distant, semi-forlorn air that left him unapproachable.

He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, and he wasn't sure why. But anything was preferable to company right now. Perhaps even walking into the wrong room, the kind of one that just happens to open up to a steep cliff.[/font][/color][/I]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]He found himself in her room. Of all places. There were several carved rock windows, too small to jump out of, carved bone statues here and there. And a small table that must have served as an altar, if the inscence was any indication. He sniffed. The sweet musky smell of her body, the delicate scent of moonflowers. Moonflowers. That rung a few bells.[/i]

Shalistrae: Having fun invading my personal space?

Vichante: Only looking.

Shalistrae: That scent you're trying to place is the same scent that Lifé is saturated with.

Vichante: Why?

Shalistrae: She serves the Angelorum. It's the scent they leave behind on mortals they touch.

Vichante: You didn't look like it.

Shalistrae: Both of us are somewhat.....unique, in the group of servants to them.

[i]She smiled at him, showing her feral teeth. Then the wind whipped up in earnest this time, and he wrapped himself up. She seemed unaffected. Maybe it was the light brown fur she was covered in. The two stared at eachother for some time, until she sat down on her low futon bed, and smiled at him.[/i][/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante looked at her a moment longer, then shook his head sadly. He wasn't sure what she meant, and he was even less sure what he meant. But one thing he did know was that it would be best if he left now. And go somewhere a little more secluded.

Again, he turned and walked away, immediately absorbing every trace of himself until he seemed a mere pulsing husk. A static entity. And he made himself stay in that half state, avoiding any kind of contact, any kind of ouput.

The next time he looked around, he was against a sheer rocky wall, higher than he could conveniently judge, and pockmarked with holes and small caverns. It had at some point started raining. He crawled inside one of the larger, unoccupied caverns, though it was still to small for him to stand up in. He curled up, wrapping the cloak tightly around himself, and sent himself into a dark wellspring of oblivion.[/font][/color][/I]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]Lifé looked up from her meal and stared into what seemed to be nothing. Ilmiwyrth stared at her in general.[/i]

Rinkayum: What is it Lifé?

Lifé: Shalistrae let him go into the dream cavern.

Shalistrae: Actually....*walks in* I led him there.

Rinkayum: Did you use your head?

Shalistrae: No. My irresistable charm. He'll dream for at least a day or two.

Ilmiwyrth: Let me guess, the room is devoid of any amethstoi.

Lifé: Pretty much. It'll be hell for him, but not as bad as he's wishes.

Shalistrae: I hope he lives.

Rinkayum: I hope he stops feeling sorry for himself.

Lifé/Ilmiwyrth: When that happens, we'll call you.[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante wasn't really sure what was going on. He was past the point of conscious though, and existed as a half aware being suspended in some kind of immaterial, non-physical existance that was almost certainly self-inflicted.

He wasn't sure of anything, much less why he was here. But he didn't care. This dream-plane kept him separate from the higher order consciousness parts of his brain, the one that leant not only clarity and coherence, but also emotional pain. He was more than willing, or would have been willing if control had existed in this realm, to accept the trade off.

In this place, reality was inspired by fleeting phantasmagoria that infested the subconscious. In Vichante's case, that would have been less than pleasant, but here there was merely experience, not analysis.

Vichante would have given anything to stay, had he in that state known that it would not last forever, however meaningless time was.[/font][/color][/I]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue][i]Shalistrae smiled and sipped her wine slowly. Her family and friends were getting stranger every second. As soon as she was finished, she left the hall and flew to the dreaming caverns again. She hovered outside the entrance to Vichante's place, waiting. Her wings moved slowly, enough to keep her in place. With her ears and hands, she could sense his movement, his dark and tormented thoughts. The lines of a song replayed themselves in her head, and she gave voice, knowing he could hear.[/i]

"If I smile and don't believe,
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream.

Don't try to fix me I'm not broken,
Hello. I am the light, living for you,
so you can hide. Don't cry."[/COLOR]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]The words tumbled through psyche like pebbles down a well, lost in an unimaginable darkness. The darkness was by no means vast, but it eclipsed all it touched, and was completly disorientating. It inspired a langurous apathy, if left one in no position to question, to resist. You floated away. And the words echoed around you, and drew you back.

Vichante rallied what resources remained to him and tried to frame a reply. Latching onto all aspects of the words that had renewed his tenuous hold on sentience, he framed a similar reply.[/I]

"Sussurant weeping, sylvan night
Wake me when I scream

Tragedy brings its own desires
Morbid shattered pristine

Serenity, solitude, save me"

[I]His eyes slowly opened. He wasn't sure how long his eyes had been closed, but the light was more than slightly painful.[/font][/color][/I]