October 15, 2009.
The moment he saw her, he knew something was wrong. Hardly dressed. Wrapped in a sheet. One eye stuck shut from sleep and a sheen of sweat glistening up her forehead. Cheeks flushed with fever, which he could barely discern. If not for the sickly gray blotches in her aura that bent and warped all the rest of her usual colors, from a distance he might not have known.
Something was wrong. He could see it.
He hadn't much time to brood on it. While Rekah crept unsteadily down the stairs, the hearth opened up and out stepped Tara Rynieyn in all her insane glory. She came to him. A beautiful distraction draped in a robe. He thought she looked like a monk. He could have laughed, if something hadn't kept tugging on the chord in his brain that fired off the alarm bells. Even in Tara's company, he kept sending furtive, sly glances aside and keeping an eye on her.
Something was wrong. He could smell it.
The Inn continued to ebb and flow with its usual hustle and bustle, but something was off. Some dark skinned elf got up from the bar and hurried to intercept Rekah. Drow, he figured, by the contrast of dark skin and light hair, but the way he handled the girl didn't speak of malice. There was concern there, and perhaps affection. There was something vaguely familiar about him; he'd seen him before but couldn't quite remember where.
Tara, sitting beside him at the bar, was trying to flirt with him, but something was off about that too. She was more subdued than usual. Not her more aggressive self. Under normal circumstances she was never this coy, and he wasn't particularly fond of mind games anyway. She should be more blunt than this, more direct and assertive.
Something was wrong. First from the probably drow. "Who made you bleed?"
Then from Tara. "Who is that with her?"
"I've no idea."
"Perhaps we should go find out?" Tara spoke softly. No. Not her usual boisterous self at all. "Given what happened to her last night I am not sure sure it's wise to leave her ... never mind. FiFi's on the way."
So she was. Fio the self-appointed guardian and mother figure of Rekah Illyriana. He still wasn't sure how much he liked that situation, but it hardly mattered given the clue that Tara dropped. Besides, if there was anything certain it was that he could trust Fio to take care of Rekah and keep her safe. So his attention snapped back to the short little sex kitten in his company. "What happened last night?"
"Lady Karos stabbed her. I received this information second-hand."
Where first he had been confused and concerned, those softly spoken words out of Tara Rynieyn's mouth shattered his world into a red haze of outraged fury. "What?" he roared.
Tara flinched, leaning back as he raged and not wanting to get caught up in the tempest, and clarifying no further.
"Lady Karos?" He snarled, the edges of his teeth bared. He wasn't sure he wanted to believe his own ears here. Poor Tara. Being right in the face of his fury, literally, except for the leaning back part. "She did what?" Murder was written in his eyes, clear and burning bright.
"I suspect that child's got more than a fever but even so, an ice bath would help alleviate it. At least somewhat," Tara mused softly. Then she frowned and repeated what she said a second time even though she knew it might spark a similar outburst. "She stabbed her. From the information I gathered from Neo, it appears as if the lunatic has been taking out her aggressions on the child of late, although I cannot verify this personally. Three weeks 'go was the first time I have seen Dawn since we were young. An' seeing her once in my lifetime was enough. Imagine what a second meeting felt like."
Salvador wasn't hearing her much. Nor was he doing much imagining beyond the scope of anything that included brutal bodily harm being imparted upon the slaver's wife, by his own two hands. Tara went on anyway.
She continued, gesturing toward Rekah. "Apparently the little one did nothing to provoke the attack. Dawn jus' went up to her, stabbed her in the gut an' then left but was pursued by Skidley."
Later, when his brain surfaced for air out of the drowning rage it was currently consumed in, he might remember this information. At the moment, however, he was only seeing red. Palm to bar, he stood up like a taught coiled spring ready to snap. "I'm going to kill that puta!" By the looks of things, it seemed as if he had it in mind to walk right out and find her and get on with that killing business right this instant.
"Please do," Fio called out to him from across the room.
"You don't have to ask!" Snapping a hand at Fio, his teeth were bared. He was thoroughly pissed off here. "She's dead!"
Tara continued on unhindered with her tale, though he hardly heard her. "There was also a commotion with Anubis as well. He overturned some tables, using them as shields, from what I was told. If I had to guess, seeing as both he an' his wife were here? They had some sort of argument related to...." She paused, wondering if she should say what's got Dawn's panties all up in a bunch lately. Then she smirked, pointing to herself. "...well, me. She asked me if the rumors that I was her husband's mistress were true. I did not deny them."
Though hardly hearing her, he was stalled, by Tara's continuation of the tale. He looked back at her and snorted. "Is that what that bullsh*t was all about?" He was all tense under her touch. He remembered a few days before then. He remembered a package being delivered to Anubis here, in the Inn. He remembered one of his slaves scared out of her wits, and a child, a girl child, who stood not at all subserviently at the Egyptian's side. Then he remembered Lucien punching Sin, and not much beyond that where the slaver was involved.
"Indeed," said Tara softly, "an' I do not feel it is necessary to apologize for what it is I did. I love him an' that will never change. However..." Nodding toward Rekah again. "I am sorry to learn she was harmed an' I wish there was something I could do but my hands are tied. If I go after her, he comes after me." Just as softly, she added, "Which would also extend to you or anyone else that attacked her an' which is why I must caution you 'gainst this course of action."
Salvador snorted. "You don't have to go after her. She's mine." Nobody even had to ask him. Though probably secretly in the backs of their minds they were hoping upon hope that-- Again, he snorted. "I'm not afraid of him, Tara."
That was a lie, and nobody knew it but him. There was a time, it was true, in which he hadn't been the least bit terrified of the Egyptian. He had stood up to him, challenged him to try to win his baronial ring. Anubis had thoroughly defeated him, crippled him for two weeks, but he hadn't been afraid. Then, he had elated in the experience. But now... Now he remembered white shadows and what they could do to him.
He did not let his fear show. He did not let it hold him back.
"I don't suppose you are," Tara said quietly. "I am, an' I have my reasons but still, I think you should know he is ... stronger than he appears." She does not say what Anubis truly is, just as she hadn't last night when cautioning Neo not to do to the Egyptian what Sal is proposing to do to Dawn.
Tara didn't need to tell him, though. Salvador already knew. Fae eyes saw more than mortal eyes could ever see. He saw deep into the depths of reality that were masked so carefully to the waking world. He looked far into that place where dreamers dream, quiver in their nightmares, and conveniently forget about upon waking. The trouble was that he wasn't capable of conveniently forgetting. White shadows. He remembered.
"I know what he's capable of," he snarled. "He beat me in our duel. Twice. Kept his stupid f***ing title and put me off my feet for two weeks. That's not going to stop me from killing his whore of a b***h wife, though."
Nobody hurts those he cares for and gets away with it. Nobody harms those he has claimed as his own. Perhaps in some small way he and the Egyptian had a bit in common. Though they treated their respective "property" differently, sure. Rekah was his, and nobody touched her without his good blessing! For good or for ill!
Tara demurred, probably regretfully. "Then I will say that it has been my most esteemed pleasure to have fornicated with you, Salvador, an' I shall visit you, in the afterlife, as often as I can." She doesn't mean this as an insult. She says it in a casual way even. And not to knock Sal's abilities in any way but she's seen Sal rage, plenty of times, and she's also seen Anubis do the same. They are just so very different in scope, magnitude and terror, she doesn't feel confident enough to describe it.
Scoffing, he turned his head and spat on the floor. "There's no afterlife for me, Tara." He stepped aside, yanking his jacket off the stool it had been draped over, the one he'd been sitting on previously. "And I'm not afraid to die." He slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat and paused a moment to consider her with a smirk. "It was good," he told her, and then stepped away from the bar.
"You are leaving now to kill her? Is that it?" she asked, watching him put on his coat with a pout.
"Yes." That was the plan. Though her inquiry stalled him momentarily to look back over his shoulder.
"At least give me a kiss before you go, Sal. If it was good, as you say, I deserve that much, no?"
A grin twitched into the corner of his lips, and he turned, dipping a nod. Fair enough. He stepped back to Tara's side, reaching to slide a hand across her hip to the small of her back and leaning in to give her a kiss to remember him by for the rest of her life. Especially if he was going off to die and all.
She closed her lips over his, praying to whatever Gods that listened to her these days that he would be safe and nuzzled him before breaking away. Still she spoke softly. "I wish you well, Sal. Come back to me soon. No one, quite, pulls my hair like you do."
Just for Tara, he growled a little against her mouth, grinning, and let his fingers tip-toe up her spine so he could tug on her hair in fond remembrance. He dipped his chin to nuzzle her jaw with the tip of his nose, and gave her one last kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I will, hermosa." So confident. Or just a real big fat liar. He pulled away and turned to resume his mission doorward.
With nothing else stopping him, Salvador prowled through the commons to the front door and out. Set on a mission of madness that was likely going to get him all kinds of killed.
At least ... that was the plan.
_______________________________________
(Adaptation taken from live play with thanks to Tara Rynieyn.)
The moment he saw her, he knew something was wrong. Hardly dressed. Wrapped in a sheet. One eye stuck shut from sleep and a sheen of sweat glistening up her forehead. Cheeks flushed with fever, which he could barely discern. If not for the sickly gray blotches in her aura that bent and warped all the rest of her usual colors, from a distance he might not have known.
Something was wrong. He could see it.
He hadn't much time to brood on it. While Rekah crept unsteadily down the stairs, the hearth opened up and out stepped Tara Rynieyn in all her insane glory. She came to him. A beautiful distraction draped in a robe. He thought she looked like a monk. He could have laughed, if something hadn't kept tugging on the chord in his brain that fired off the alarm bells. Even in Tara's company, he kept sending furtive, sly glances aside and keeping an eye on her.
Something was wrong. He could smell it.
The Inn continued to ebb and flow with its usual hustle and bustle, but something was off. Some dark skinned elf got up from the bar and hurried to intercept Rekah. Drow, he figured, by the contrast of dark skin and light hair, but the way he handled the girl didn't speak of malice. There was concern there, and perhaps affection. There was something vaguely familiar about him; he'd seen him before but couldn't quite remember where.
Tara, sitting beside him at the bar, was trying to flirt with him, but something was off about that too. She was more subdued than usual. Not her more aggressive self. Under normal circumstances she was never this coy, and he wasn't particularly fond of mind games anyway. She should be more blunt than this, more direct and assertive.
Something was wrong. First from the probably drow. "Who made you bleed?"
Then from Tara. "Who is that with her?"
"I've no idea."
"Perhaps we should go find out?" Tara spoke softly. No. Not her usual boisterous self at all. "Given what happened to her last night I am not sure sure it's wise to leave her ... never mind. FiFi's on the way."
So she was. Fio the self-appointed guardian and mother figure of Rekah Illyriana. He still wasn't sure how much he liked that situation, but it hardly mattered given the clue that Tara dropped. Besides, if there was anything certain it was that he could trust Fio to take care of Rekah and keep her safe. So his attention snapped back to the short little sex kitten in his company. "What happened last night?"
"Lady Karos stabbed her. I received this information second-hand."
Where first he had been confused and concerned, those softly spoken words out of Tara Rynieyn's mouth shattered his world into a red haze of outraged fury. "What?" he roared.
Tara flinched, leaning back as he raged and not wanting to get caught up in the tempest, and clarifying no further.
"Lady Karos?" He snarled, the edges of his teeth bared. He wasn't sure he wanted to believe his own ears here. Poor Tara. Being right in the face of his fury, literally, except for the leaning back part. "She did what?" Murder was written in his eyes, clear and burning bright.
"I suspect that child's got more than a fever but even so, an ice bath would help alleviate it. At least somewhat," Tara mused softly. Then she frowned and repeated what she said a second time even though she knew it might spark a similar outburst. "She stabbed her. From the information I gathered from Neo, it appears as if the lunatic has been taking out her aggressions on the child of late, although I cannot verify this personally. Three weeks 'go was the first time I have seen Dawn since we were young. An' seeing her once in my lifetime was enough. Imagine what a second meeting felt like."
Salvador wasn't hearing her much. Nor was he doing much imagining beyond the scope of anything that included brutal bodily harm being imparted upon the slaver's wife, by his own two hands. Tara went on anyway.
She continued, gesturing toward Rekah. "Apparently the little one did nothing to provoke the attack. Dawn jus' went up to her, stabbed her in the gut an' then left but was pursued by Skidley."
Later, when his brain surfaced for air out of the drowning rage it was currently consumed in, he might remember this information. At the moment, however, he was only seeing red. Palm to bar, he stood up like a taught coiled spring ready to snap. "I'm going to kill that puta!" By the looks of things, it seemed as if he had it in mind to walk right out and find her and get on with that killing business right this instant.
"Please do," Fio called out to him from across the room.
"You don't have to ask!" Snapping a hand at Fio, his teeth were bared. He was thoroughly pissed off here. "She's dead!"
Tara continued on unhindered with her tale, though he hardly heard her. "There was also a commotion with Anubis as well. He overturned some tables, using them as shields, from what I was told. If I had to guess, seeing as both he an' his wife were here? They had some sort of argument related to...." She paused, wondering if she should say what's got Dawn's panties all up in a bunch lately. Then she smirked, pointing to herself. "...well, me. She asked me if the rumors that I was her husband's mistress were true. I did not deny them."
Though hardly hearing her, he was stalled, by Tara's continuation of the tale. He looked back at her and snorted. "Is that what that bullsh*t was all about?" He was all tense under her touch. He remembered a few days before then. He remembered a package being delivered to Anubis here, in the Inn. He remembered one of his slaves scared out of her wits, and a child, a girl child, who stood not at all subserviently at the Egyptian's side. Then he remembered Lucien punching Sin, and not much beyond that where the slaver was involved.
"Indeed," said Tara softly, "an' I do not feel it is necessary to apologize for what it is I did. I love him an' that will never change. However..." Nodding toward Rekah again. "I am sorry to learn she was harmed an' I wish there was something I could do but my hands are tied. If I go after her, he comes after me." Just as softly, she added, "Which would also extend to you or anyone else that attacked her an' which is why I must caution you 'gainst this course of action."
Salvador snorted. "You don't have to go after her. She's mine." Nobody even had to ask him. Though probably secretly in the backs of their minds they were hoping upon hope that-- Again, he snorted. "I'm not afraid of him, Tara."
That was a lie, and nobody knew it but him. There was a time, it was true, in which he hadn't been the least bit terrified of the Egyptian. He had stood up to him, challenged him to try to win his baronial ring. Anubis had thoroughly defeated him, crippled him for two weeks, but he hadn't been afraid. Then, he had elated in the experience. But now... Now he remembered white shadows and what they could do to him.
He did not let his fear show. He did not let it hold him back.
"I don't suppose you are," Tara said quietly. "I am, an' I have my reasons but still, I think you should know he is ... stronger than he appears." She does not say what Anubis truly is, just as she hadn't last night when cautioning Neo not to do to the Egyptian what Sal is proposing to do to Dawn.
Tara didn't need to tell him, though. Salvador already knew. Fae eyes saw more than mortal eyes could ever see. He saw deep into the depths of reality that were masked so carefully to the waking world. He looked far into that place where dreamers dream, quiver in their nightmares, and conveniently forget about upon waking. The trouble was that he wasn't capable of conveniently forgetting. White shadows. He remembered.
"I know what he's capable of," he snarled. "He beat me in our duel. Twice. Kept his stupid f***ing title and put me off my feet for two weeks. That's not going to stop me from killing his whore of a b***h wife, though."
Nobody hurts those he cares for and gets away with it. Nobody harms those he has claimed as his own. Perhaps in some small way he and the Egyptian had a bit in common. Though they treated their respective "property" differently, sure. Rekah was his, and nobody touched her without his good blessing! For good or for ill!
Tara demurred, probably regretfully. "Then I will say that it has been my most esteemed pleasure to have fornicated with you, Salvador, an' I shall visit you, in the afterlife, as often as I can." She doesn't mean this as an insult. She says it in a casual way even. And not to knock Sal's abilities in any way but she's seen Sal rage, plenty of times, and she's also seen Anubis do the same. They are just so very different in scope, magnitude and terror, she doesn't feel confident enough to describe it.
Scoffing, he turned his head and spat on the floor. "There's no afterlife for me, Tara." He stepped aside, yanking his jacket off the stool it had been draped over, the one he'd been sitting on previously. "And I'm not afraid to die." He slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat and paused a moment to consider her with a smirk. "It was good," he told her, and then stepped away from the bar.
"You are leaving now to kill her? Is that it?" she asked, watching him put on his coat with a pout.
"Yes." That was the plan. Though her inquiry stalled him momentarily to look back over his shoulder.
"At least give me a kiss before you go, Sal. If it was good, as you say, I deserve that much, no?"
A grin twitched into the corner of his lips, and he turned, dipping a nod. Fair enough. He stepped back to Tara's side, reaching to slide a hand across her hip to the small of her back and leaning in to give her a kiss to remember him by for the rest of her life. Especially if he was going off to die and all.
She closed her lips over his, praying to whatever Gods that listened to her these days that he would be safe and nuzzled him before breaking away. Still she spoke softly. "I wish you well, Sal. Come back to me soon. No one, quite, pulls my hair like you do."
Just for Tara, he growled a little against her mouth, grinning, and let his fingers tip-toe up her spine so he could tug on her hair in fond remembrance. He dipped his chin to nuzzle her jaw with the tip of his nose, and gave her one last kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I will, hermosa." So confident. Or just a real big fat liar. He pulled away and turned to resume his mission doorward.
With nothing else stopping him, Salvador prowled through the commons to the front door and out. Set on a mission of madness that was likely going to get him all kinds of killed.
At least ... that was the plan.
_______________________________________
(Adaptation taken from live play with thanks to Tara Rynieyn.)