Days... No. Weeks. Yes.
It had been weeks now since she'd had that unsettling gut deep crank, that dark feeling of something ominous creeping up and lapping at her booted heels. Lilliana had shrugged if off as her seasonal despair that the autumn was upon them and winter would soon be too, further chasing away her beloved summer sun and the energy it brought her. But no. The turning season didn't bring thick clouds of people with them that spoke in dark whispers. The turning of the season didn't bring the inexplicable, unfashionable rush of black ribbons to the throats and hair and wrists of so many of the townsfolk. No.
There were too many little coincidences piling up, too many unwelcome, familiar feelings prickling at the base of her brain with each passing day. A name kept floating to the murky surface of her thoughts, but each time that happened, the gypsy witch pushed it away. No. It couldn't be him, it was just some silly bit of her imagination that refused to rest ever since that man, that thing, had used her. There was a baby to think of that she and her family all held their breath for, there was the ritual of Samhain to think of, the city's Harvest Festival, the recent visit with Zayveon's children.... Now was not the time to let memories rise up and attack her day to day peace.
But memories didn't sail down from the sky in the form of violent explosions of light and manmade fire, and that was exactly what happened when she'd been out to market later in the night for a bit of supplies she'd been running low on during her dealings with Niamh earlier in the evening. The herbs she'd just purchased went up in a rush as the gypsy hurriedly cast a protective force about her and the merchant she'd been dealing with. The man shrieked in fear as he watched the back half of his shop disappear in a flurry of brick and building insulation through the translucent haze of the witch's magic shielding. He moved towards the edge and began to push at Lilliana's creation even as the smoke and fire licked around them; it was about to consume the whole of his building, and some vain part of the man couldn't watch it happen.
"N-no! My life! My home, my shop! P-please! I have to do something!" He was frantic, and his body pushing against the sphere she'd put around them was wearing on Lilliana's concentration. Sweat began to beat her brow as she tried to even her voice out.
"Sir, ya'... Ya' go' t'st'op. Ya' can always rebuild, please, jus' ge' away from the border like tha', yer gonna' break through an' I can'-NO!" Her pleading turned to a cry as she watched the man. He'd not heeded her warning, but pressed it; the gypsy had been explaining the danger of her shield, of it's weakness, and instead of caring and moving away, the merchant broke through and knocked them both asunder.
As Lilliana pulled herself up from the cold, hard ground, the smell of burning wood and singed hair flooded her nose. Then something worse; the smell of charred flesh. She didn't have to look to know the man was dead.
Turning her eyes away to the horror that'd befallen the city, the gypsy found her molten eyes swimming behind their lids. So much death, so much destruction, and all behind the blink of an eye. What had happened? Who could have...
That name she'd so desperately been pushing away from her mind came to the surface again; taunting, teasing. And as that one last feeble attempt of her's came to push it away, Lilliana felt it then like she hadn't felt it the past two weeks. The cold, the dark. Her shield had cut off not only the explosion from her and the merchant, but shielded her from the entire shroud that'd been slowly covering the city. It hit her full blast now, and the strength of it was enough to make her physically shiver. Panic began to climb up her spine now, though not the kind that came with thoughts of self preservation, oh no. It was the kind that came with love, the kind that came with family and friends... Brishen, Niamh, the baby.
Angel, Mira, Chase, Tag, Lirssa, Fen, Lucien, Neko... The list just didn't seem to end, in fact, her list spanned a great length of the city if she ever truly sought to put it to paper. The gypsy had befriended and touched many a soul since she'd breezed into the realm, and the thought of them ending up like the merchant, or their homes like his shop. No. That wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of it was Lilliana knew what Travanix could do, what he would do; she knew details of the mad man's mind that would scar and strike nightmares into even the strongest of men. Though she'd since purged the bulk of his poisonous influence long ago when she sought a cleansing through goddess and country, there were simply some things that could not be unseen, some thoughts that could never be purged.
"... I have t'ge' them ou'. He's t'akin' the cit'y." Her stroke of genius came in the same moment her fist closed around the chain that dangled about her neck. The timing chose to be a thing of ironic precision then, because just as Lilliana began to pull the gold key from it's warm, secure hiding place below the line of her bodice, a small contingent of those men in their gleaming armor were pouring out from a nearby alley. Turning to the ruined merchant's building, she found the door and it's artful stone frame were still intact... With a slip of that key and a quick series of steps, the witch was gone.
One in the front line of those troops nudged the man at his side and motioned towards the freestanding door, swearing he saw it close just now. Through the dead, reflective gleam of the other soldier's black visor, the troop who'd spoke up recognized his stare too late; he got a weapon butt to the side of his helmet and a harsh, corrective bark.
http://i1013.photobucket.com/albums/af255/fellea/RDI%20Thingys/you_have_the_key__by_psychohel-d30gxio.jpg
OOC Note: This is the beginning of a small 'oppositions and rescue' thread I'll be holding open for people who have characters they'd like to see away from all the chaos of the attack on Rhydin from Travanix's Scarred SL. Drop me a PM or hit me up on AIM if this is something you'd be interested in. The basic idea is Lilliana will be popping in through people's doors via her magic key. This key is magic because, well, it opens all doors, locked or no, to every and anywhere she do desires. If your character is considered a friend to my gypsy witch, I'm sure she'll be coming a'knockin' to their place of residence soon enough to check on them and make sure they don't need or want an evac. This thread is for that, or those trying to disrupt her 'evac' plan. :)
It had been weeks now since she'd had that unsettling gut deep crank, that dark feeling of something ominous creeping up and lapping at her booted heels. Lilliana had shrugged if off as her seasonal despair that the autumn was upon them and winter would soon be too, further chasing away her beloved summer sun and the energy it brought her. But no. The turning season didn't bring thick clouds of people with them that spoke in dark whispers. The turning of the season didn't bring the inexplicable, unfashionable rush of black ribbons to the throats and hair and wrists of so many of the townsfolk. No.
There were too many little coincidences piling up, too many unwelcome, familiar feelings prickling at the base of her brain with each passing day. A name kept floating to the murky surface of her thoughts, but each time that happened, the gypsy witch pushed it away. No. It couldn't be him, it was just some silly bit of her imagination that refused to rest ever since that man, that thing, had used her. There was a baby to think of that she and her family all held their breath for, there was the ritual of Samhain to think of, the city's Harvest Festival, the recent visit with Zayveon's children.... Now was not the time to let memories rise up and attack her day to day peace.
But memories didn't sail down from the sky in the form of violent explosions of light and manmade fire, and that was exactly what happened when she'd been out to market later in the night for a bit of supplies she'd been running low on during her dealings with Niamh earlier in the evening. The herbs she'd just purchased went up in a rush as the gypsy hurriedly cast a protective force about her and the merchant she'd been dealing with. The man shrieked in fear as he watched the back half of his shop disappear in a flurry of brick and building insulation through the translucent haze of the witch's magic shielding. He moved towards the edge and began to push at Lilliana's creation even as the smoke and fire licked around them; it was about to consume the whole of his building, and some vain part of the man couldn't watch it happen.
"N-no! My life! My home, my shop! P-please! I have to do something!" He was frantic, and his body pushing against the sphere she'd put around them was wearing on Lilliana's concentration. Sweat began to beat her brow as she tried to even her voice out.
"Sir, ya'... Ya' go' t'st'op. Ya' can always rebuild, please, jus' ge' away from the border like tha', yer gonna' break through an' I can'-NO!" Her pleading turned to a cry as she watched the man. He'd not heeded her warning, but pressed it; the gypsy had been explaining the danger of her shield, of it's weakness, and instead of caring and moving away, the merchant broke through and knocked them both asunder.
As Lilliana pulled herself up from the cold, hard ground, the smell of burning wood and singed hair flooded her nose. Then something worse; the smell of charred flesh. She didn't have to look to know the man was dead.
Turning her eyes away to the horror that'd befallen the city, the gypsy found her molten eyes swimming behind their lids. So much death, so much destruction, and all behind the blink of an eye. What had happened? Who could have...
That name she'd so desperately been pushing away from her mind came to the surface again; taunting, teasing. And as that one last feeble attempt of her's came to push it away, Lilliana felt it then like she hadn't felt it the past two weeks. The cold, the dark. Her shield had cut off not only the explosion from her and the merchant, but shielded her from the entire shroud that'd been slowly covering the city. It hit her full blast now, and the strength of it was enough to make her physically shiver. Panic began to climb up her spine now, though not the kind that came with thoughts of self preservation, oh no. It was the kind that came with love, the kind that came with family and friends... Brishen, Niamh, the baby.
Angel, Mira, Chase, Tag, Lirssa, Fen, Lucien, Neko... The list just didn't seem to end, in fact, her list spanned a great length of the city if she ever truly sought to put it to paper. The gypsy had befriended and touched many a soul since she'd breezed into the realm, and the thought of them ending up like the merchant, or their homes like his shop. No. That wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of it was Lilliana knew what Travanix could do, what he would do; she knew details of the mad man's mind that would scar and strike nightmares into even the strongest of men. Though she'd since purged the bulk of his poisonous influence long ago when she sought a cleansing through goddess and country, there were simply some things that could not be unseen, some thoughts that could never be purged.
"... I have t'ge' them ou'. He's t'akin' the cit'y." Her stroke of genius came in the same moment her fist closed around the chain that dangled about her neck. The timing chose to be a thing of ironic precision then, because just as Lilliana began to pull the gold key from it's warm, secure hiding place below the line of her bodice, a small contingent of those men in their gleaming armor were pouring out from a nearby alley. Turning to the ruined merchant's building, she found the door and it's artful stone frame were still intact... With a slip of that key and a quick series of steps, the witch was gone.
One in the front line of those troops nudged the man at his side and motioned towards the freestanding door, swearing he saw it close just now. Through the dead, reflective gleam of the other soldier's black visor, the troop who'd spoke up recognized his stare too late; he got a weapon butt to the side of his helmet and a harsh, corrective bark.
http://i1013.photobucket.com/albums/af255/fellea/RDI%20Thingys/you_have_the_key__by_psychohel-d30gxio.jpg
OOC Note: This is the beginning of a small 'oppositions and rescue' thread I'll be holding open for people who have characters they'd like to see away from all the chaos of the attack on Rhydin from Travanix's Scarred SL. Drop me a PM or hit me up on AIM if this is something you'd be interested in. The basic idea is Lilliana will be popping in through people's doors via her magic key. This key is magic because, well, it opens all doors, locked or no, to every and anywhere she do desires. If your character is considered a friend to my gypsy witch, I'm sure she'll be coming a'knockin' to their place of residence soon enough to check on them and make sure they don't need or want an evac. This thread is for that, or those trying to disrupt her 'evac' plan. :)