9.17.16
Nearly two months in passing since that tickle to the recesses of her mind. The calling of her new Lord. The hint. The clue. Since then, she'd been trying to breach the connection. It was her power, her duty, her purpose. She had no knowledge of the when, how or where the new Mehrunes would possibly rise.
If he was in danger.
She was left in the dark along with the others who sought him out, looked for signs or possibilities that the new Lord was coming to power. The replacement they all knew would eventually be found. Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Fate and Knowledge, would see to it that the position and spheres were filled. And they hoped....prayed....that this one wouldn't meet the same demise....wouldn't make the same mistakes....as the last.
"Argh!" A bellow rang through the underground cavern Ella called her current temporary home, one she'd cycled through a time or two. Her fingers were hooked into claws, a triangular jaw taut with tension as she all but snarled into the musky air. "How"! How is this not accomplishing anything"!" She very nearly screeched out her frustrations, her thickly accented tone an aggressive melody. The hem of her robes brushed over the dusty floor as she paced back and forth.
Eyes the color of a lush forest?s underbrush, a mixture of brown and green that blended exceptionally into subtle beauty, they closed behind lids lined with long lashes. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she halted in her pacing, fingers splayed as they lifted to her chest and pushed outward with the deep breath extinguished. "Deeep breaths, Ella. Deep breaths, my girl," she breathed out, cheeks puffing with the effort. Was talking to yourself madness or perhaps intelligence" She would claim the latter. Or perhaps speaking to herself to refrain from the madness that came from such an exceptionally long time of isolation and hiding. Else she became like Daniel, their scribe and practical librarian that was...a bit...touched in Ella's opinion.
A soft squeak escaped her, those evergreen pools rising from their blanket of flesh and lash as her chin lifted. "I'll find him. I just..." Wiggling fingers in the air, she tucked her chin and returned to her table that was littered with scry orbs, ancient tomes and various other artifacts. "I need more focus," she breathed, a soft rolling of her tongue as splayed fingertips pressed to the edge of the table, palms arched above. "I need...." She groaned, rolling her eyes closed as her head hung forward in a cascade of copper curls. "A fracking miraclllllle," she sighed, picking her head up before straightening. Fingers brushed the smooth wood of the table as she shook them out, shivering her shoulders to shake off the frustration and negative energy.
Those same fingers smoothed the front of her robe as she shook her head, the effort pushing those soft curls over her shoulders and down her back. Regaining her composure, she reached for the scry orb before her. Fingers enveloped the spherical object as she pulled it closer to her, taking a deep breath. Her eyes disappeared behind her eyelids as she focused on expelling herself from her body, to project herself into the realm of the Deadlands. His realm.
No stone would be unturned. No corner or shadow left unsought and searched.
She would find Him again.
And she would return to her power.
Nearly two months in passing since that tickle to the recesses of her mind. The calling of her new Lord. The hint. The clue. Since then, she'd been trying to breach the connection. It was her power, her duty, her purpose. She had no knowledge of the when, how or where the new Mehrunes would possibly rise.
If he was in danger.
She was left in the dark along with the others who sought him out, looked for signs or possibilities that the new Lord was coming to power. The replacement they all knew would eventually be found. Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Fate and Knowledge, would see to it that the position and spheres were filled. And they hoped....prayed....that this one wouldn't meet the same demise....wouldn't make the same mistakes....as the last.
"Argh!" A bellow rang through the underground cavern Ella called her current temporary home, one she'd cycled through a time or two. Her fingers were hooked into claws, a triangular jaw taut with tension as she all but snarled into the musky air. "How"! How is this not accomplishing anything"!" She very nearly screeched out her frustrations, her thickly accented tone an aggressive melody. The hem of her robes brushed over the dusty floor as she paced back and forth.
Eyes the color of a lush forest?s underbrush, a mixture of brown and green that blended exceptionally into subtle beauty, they closed behind lids lined with long lashes. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she halted in her pacing, fingers splayed as they lifted to her chest and pushed outward with the deep breath extinguished. "Deeep breaths, Ella. Deep breaths, my girl," she breathed out, cheeks puffing with the effort. Was talking to yourself madness or perhaps intelligence" She would claim the latter. Or perhaps speaking to herself to refrain from the madness that came from such an exceptionally long time of isolation and hiding. Else she became like Daniel, their scribe and practical librarian that was...a bit...touched in Ella's opinion.
A soft squeak escaped her, those evergreen pools rising from their blanket of flesh and lash as her chin lifted. "I'll find him. I just..." Wiggling fingers in the air, she tucked her chin and returned to her table that was littered with scry orbs, ancient tomes and various other artifacts. "I need more focus," she breathed, a soft rolling of her tongue as splayed fingertips pressed to the edge of the table, palms arched above. "I need...." She groaned, rolling her eyes closed as her head hung forward in a cascade of copper curls. "A fracking miraclllllle," she sighed, picking her head up before straightening. Fingers brushed the smooth wood of the table as she shook them out, shivering her shoulders to shake off the frustration and negative energy.
Those same fingers smoothed the front of her robe as she shook her head, the effort pushing those soft curls over her shoulders and down her back. Regaining her composure, she reached for the scry orb before her. Fingers enveloped the spherical object as she pulled it closer to her, taking a deep breath. Her eyes disappeared behind her eyelids as she focused on expelling herself from her body, to project herself into the realm of the Deadlands. His realm.
No stone would be unturned. No corner or shadow left unsought and searched.
She would find Him again.
And she would return to her power.