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Post by Ossular on May 20, 2019 4:29:41 GMT
"Come on, Rain," Orin would roll her eyes at Citrine's thorough inspection of the scene she had discovered before pulling the Firebird away from Thea and Arioch. While she herself was a bit surprised to see the two of them as they were, she had her own date with Citrine. They had seen enough for Citrine to rag on the air genasi about it later. No, at the moment, Citrine and Orin were here together, and as the blossoms lit around them and they weaved through the branches and around the trees in their dedication, something was drawn out of the eladrin.
Orin felt herself pulled to Citrine, and she didn't have the willpower to resist if she had even wanted to do so. They shifted closer, spinning on the winds. Even though Lady Susan had drawn all of the power from Orin before this quest started, the former kineticist was power. Injuries recovered in time, and it had been thirty months with her own power slowly flickering and gathering in her soul. That fire- that power- was now starting to draw out, and while it was nothing in comparison to what it had been, it was Orin unadulterated and true. No outside influence between them- even if she didn't physically remember, her spirit did.
That was the energy that Citrine tasted. That's what Orin shared with her above the blooming fireblossoms in their private moment- herself. No one had been able to do that, and something about the whole thing was thrilling- Primal- Right.
An hour, maybe a little more passed too fast, and before they knew it, the two of them had been drawn homeward, toward their bodies. After confirming that Thea and Arioch had moved on and she couldn't snoop on them anymore, the two of them would make their way back south across town. The wind picked up as, in playful fashion, the two raced home, weaving in and out of the buildings. Signs moving. Griffin calvary spooked. Drunk people claiming they saw something in the sparkles of the moonlight. Others telling them to shut up and pay their tab. They made it back eventually, slipping through the crack in the bedroom window, around the room, and eventually back into their own bodies.
Orin's eyes would slowly flutter open, not wanting to open. Even with artificial sleep, when she did get it, she didn't want to stir, always wanting five more minutes. Her arms were still tightly snug around the phoenix to her side, and she would hug into Citrine a little tired as the firebird stirred. Physically, now, the eladrin would quietly hold the avian woman.
"If it's not you... I don't know who it would be," Orin would murmur quietly, as if someone else was watching in her room. Her heart was still racing from the experience they had just shared, though her thoughts on what was next was starting to come back to the forefront of her mind. "I want it to be you.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Orin would ask, after a quiet moment of just holding Citrine, fist still balled around the vial in her hand, as if loosening her grip meant she'd lose it forever.
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Citrine
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6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
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Post by Citrine on May 20, 2019 5:12:39 GMT
Waking up again in a body after being weightless and unchained was like being dunked in fridge water after simmering in a hot tub. Everything came back at once, but even the intensity of slipping back into her body did nothing to erase the taste she'd just had. Orin's fire. Racing through the streets. The sensations of existing as one entity in a way that only being sky high on drugs could give you.
Snuggling back to be an even smaller little spoon Citrine nodded, not trusting herself to speak quite yet. She tried to speak once, twice, a third time was the charm as her slightly swollen with nerves throat loosened enough. "Me too Orin. Me too." Her accent was gone, her voice sounding small and nearly afraid. But it wasn't fear of it being her - no, she had no doubt after all it was her. There literally was no one else it could be. But it was fear of being sent back, way back, to a place her mind hadn't been to in so long.
"Yeah, take what ya can." She muttered, shifting slowly enough to eventually face Orin, nose to nose, so her wings could drape down off the bed instead of being crunched between them. "And give nothing back. That's what it's gonna take." She swallowed, nervously, eyes staring at the clasped hands then back to Orin. "But you're worth it. Always worth it. I'd go to Wonderland and back again and again if it meant staying with you, Corrina. We've lifetimes to live after all - can't do it alone. And I can't.... I can't have you back with Them. I can't leave it for you to not remember what we went through. The Shadows. Spurnhorn. The Black Spot... The party turning on me, wantin' me dead. My wings, My scarf.... Holly..." Her voice trailed, there was just too much that had been stripped from her, so many core essential things.
She put her hands over Orin's and squeezed. "It's me, love, and I need you to remember. It's not the same without you." Slowly she began to help Orin release her fingers from the crystal vial. "One hundred years I waited on Gozreh's Firebird for you to appear on the horizon." A few more fingers opened up, letting the vial be seen. "Then when I couldn't find you after? I begged Holly to figure out a way to find you, no matter the cost." Citrine wedged her fingers so Orin's hand went flat and she could pick up the vial. "And then? I'd thought I had been sent somewhere impossible. A world without you in it. And I raged, I burned ships, I.... I threw ah right fine tantrum if I'm being honest." Her other hand moved to start uncorking the top. "But here we are, so close but so far away." Her raptor eyes bored into Orin's, and grinned a resigned smile. "Just... Help me out of the cold, please?" The last was a whispered request.
And the vial popped open.
Instantly a scent Citrine hadn't perceived in close to three hundred years flooded her nostrils. Instantly her eyes dilated to nothing, the yellow taking over the entirety of the eye. A soft exhale, sounding like 'oh', clinked out of her mouth- which had gone slack and numb. Spearmint. Poinsettia. Hoarfrost. Ice. Cold's Essence. Lady Maeve. The phoenix shrunk lightly into herself, hand dropping the vial and slumping more into the bed as if drugged. Because she was. Orin had seen her under the effects of spearmint before, had even held a vial of oil and once considered drugging a temper-growing Citrine with it in Baba Yaga's hut. But this went beyond what simple mortal essential oil could do. "Lady Maeve?" She questioned, eyes flickering as if lost in a memory but not seeing. Her voice was small, quiet, reserved, meek, and hopeful.
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Post by Ossular on May 20, 2019 6:43:45 GMT
Citrine's avian fingers curled into the edges of her own, still tight around the vial in her hand. As Citrine spoke, the iron grip she had on this diminished, little by little, her emerald eyes reflective and wide. Her hand shook, as if it meant everything. In a way, it did. Even as Citrine forced her fingers into Orin's hand, after loosening her grip, Orin's grip re-tightened around it. With a nervous swallow, the eladrin would finally release the vial into Citrine's hands. Orin sat up, leaning forward off of the foot of the bed, fingers making fists so tight her hands were starting to change colors from the strain. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking to Citrine, looking into her eyes. She wouldn't verbally answer, but instead, Orin would nod in agreement. She forced herself to watch. The vial popped open. Citrine inhaled. Her eyes narrowed. She went slack.
Orin still didn't remember. Citrine's arm flung to the side, and Orin reacted- "NO!-" lunging forward to try to catch the vial, only for it to shatter on the floor, the liquid absorb quickly into the wood at the foot of the bed before fading into nothing. "No! No no no!" Still no memories. Still nothing, and now? No vial. "Why did you drop it!? Citrine!? What in the Nine Hells!? Citrine!" Orin would look up Citrine's head turned toward her, but looked through her. Her raptor slits looked through her as if she was somewhere else.
"Lady Maeve?" Citrine would murmur. The words would echo. Orin would feel something drip from her nose, warm and viscous. A finger would come up, wipe it off and look at it- blood? Then, a pressure built up behind her eyes. That same warmth escaped her nostrils, her ears, her eyes, her lips, but Orin could do nothing about it because all she could focus on was the pressure. It was immense. It pulsed, and Orin physically shot to her side, falling to the floor in a pained jerk. Another pulse- another searing bolt through her body as she whimpered. In protest, the eladrin tried to pull herself off of the floor, but the pulse was faster now. It beat through her like a drum, every beat raising in intensity.
Orin would cry, but no one would hear her- not even Citrine. Whenever it was done, Orin would curl up around herself, knees pulled to her chest, arms holding her knees close. She cradled herself, but whatever was happening wasn't done with her. Her body would lurch unnaturally, and something would work it's way up from within her. She would surge forward- like any normal person, Orin never wanted to throw up. Like most normal people, though, she didn't get a choice, only delaying the inevitable. The warlock spewed, a thick black ooze that reflected light like oil.
The eladrin, tears in her eyes, would watch as this small pile of ooze would become a figure- a shadow of one very familiar to her. It was Lady Susan, but all of her features were covered in dark and ice- some form of simulacrum. It didn't speak. It didn't acknowledge her, at least in the normal way. Instead, the shadow of Lady Susan reached down, grabbing Orin by the neck. It easily picked up the eladrin , bringing her from the floor to freely hanging in her grasp over the Lady of Winter and Darkness. Hovering, Orin crashed into the wall behind her as Lady Susan lifted from the ground. The shadow reached up with a free hand, twisted and disjointed, curling around her own body like a snake. The tendrils that were fingers came closer, and even as Orin struggled, she couldn't stop what happened next.
All five fingers dug under her eyelid, slithering back against her eye. Orin cried out in pain, the sheer cold radiating through her face freezing her eyes open. The tendrils went deeper, one gripping the inside of her nostril, another in the back of her mouth. Three, however, lined along a very familiar scar on the left side of her face, starting at the eyebrows. Then? They cut through. The eladrin shrieked in pain as each tendril retrieved something. Each holding a piece of a broken mirror. The tendrils unfurled from her, and Orin was deposited on the ground, instinctively clinging the side of her face as if holding it all together.
The shadow shifted, reforming the mirror from the shards within it's chest, and Orin would look up and catch a glimpse of herself- human. Cold. Pale. The Winter Knight. She urged herself to her knees, the human version looking down from the chest to stare at the eladrin form. They would both look at each other. Together, they knew the risk. Together, they understood the rules, the risks, and now, the grand-daughter of the Hurricane King, a kineticist of five elements, a warrior worth one thousand would look not at Lady Susan, but herself.
"The contract has been fulfilled."
Citrine's arm flung to the side, and Orin reacted, lunging forward to catch the vial, only for it to land between her fingers without spilling a drop. The eladrin would find the cork in Citrine's other hand loosely, and the eladrin took it, sealing the vial. Shit. Shit- shit- shit! Of course it would be spearmint, poinsettia, Lady Maeve's mantle and hoarfrost of the Winter Court- it was the thing that would fuck Citrine like it had! Orin turned, walking across the room as she snagged a candle from a shelf and lit it using the small fire in the mantle of her room. She set the wide candle up, setting the vial next to it and paused.
"Lady Maeve?" Citrine questioned, eyes falling in Orin's direction. Orin's heart sank, even through the massive splitting headache she was experiencing, and she would slowly turn. Everything washed over Orin like a wave, and the eladrin looked around, realizing just where they were. Realizing everything that had happened- everything. Orin remembered... everything.
"No, my jolly sailor bold," Orin would coo, slowly stepping toward the bed- toward Citrine as a realization shot through her like a cannonball from the deck of a Chelaxian ship. "No, no. Citrine. Citrine, lass. It's Orin. It's your captain, Rain. It's me. It's-" her voice cracked as she made it back to the bed. "It's your neach-gaoil. Your hurricane. Citrine?" Orin would reach out to softly embrace her cheek, her fingertips tracing lightly across her features as one more realization slowly set in.
How could she wake Citrine up from this without access to her kineticist abilities? The question was answered in her mind almost immediately- swiftsail. Just would get it- she had a couple more doses- but she just wanted to look at the price. She wanted to remember this moment. She would prove Lady Susan wrong again. She would get her firebird back, and there was nothing the Winter Lady could do about it.
"Citrine," she would coo once more, softly, a gentle smile overtaking her lips as tears took her eyes. "I'm coming, my love. You won't be cold for much longer."
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Citrine
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Post by Citrine on May 20, 2019 18:46:44 GMT
She was a three-tailed kitsune again - long crisp white hair, pale unblemished skin, stunning sapphire eyes, and a tall graceful body that befit a dancer. She was Citrine still, but in the colors of her sister, Holly, and had been this way for a few days now. The shock of seeing her sister looking in the mirror had faded leaving behind just a melancholy of desires and longing to truly see her sister again. Every day that passed was one more thread ripped from her scarf, one more gem broken to pieces, one more essence of Holly Frost Taylor destroyed.
But she still couldn't give up the missing spell component. She couldn't!
Walking the gardens the white-haired kitsune meandered into a highly maintained formal topiary winter garden. Stone paths and low-riding stone walls were covered in hoarfrost. Large steamed grasses were covered in frost. Weeping Willows were beaded in ice crystals. Deep red poinsettias and roses grew along trellises and in planters while holly, ivy, spearmint, and wintergreen plants climbed various walls and metal gates. Further ahead from where Citrine stood she saw, pleasantly arrayed, a statue garden and what looked like a meditation path with a fountain in the center. If she had looked closer to the smaller plants growing outside of the paths, formally kept tidy by the plot dividers, she could have seen every species of deadly herb, plant, and flower growing somehow despite being covered in a layer of frost.
Walking down the path Citrine gazed in wonder at the splendor of this garden but avoided any mirrored or iced surface, it was still too jarring to see what her appearance had become. Overall the garden was a high-end noble’s prized display… but better. Everything was perfect. Ivy and holly grew dark green with the holly berries flashing red under the snow, giving a beautiful contract to the deep orange sky. A beautiful long rectangular shaped pool filled with some sort of dark water stretched the main length of the garden, with statues of winter wolves prowling the edges and spitting water upwards in the center of the pool. The shimmering droplets looked like black diamonds.
Making her way out of the initial topiary gardens and up to the statues, the snow picked up in depth as thick slow snowfall started to drift down. The ice crystals collected in her hair, skin, and dusted her eyelashes – pulling a small smile to her face. It was just beautiful. Everything was covered in a heavy blanket of snow the further she walked away from the structured garden. She looked up back behind her to see Maeve’s marble castle creating a fantasy skyline against the orange sky – various turrets jutting into the sky and dark shadows looking intimidating and curious at the same time.
“Yes, it is quite wondrous here, isn’t it Precious? I am glad to see you moving around. I was worried you might not appreciate what I had done for you.” Citrine turned, smiling deeper, when she heard Lady Maeve’s voice. Her long wavy snow hair was free to hang down her back, with only a small black pointed crown sitting on her head. Her lips were painted a dark red and her silver eyes stood out from being outlined in black. The kitsune noticed too that the Winter Lady dressed in a very (for her) casual set of day-robes. They were silver and charcoal, with large white outlines of poinsettias stitched into a pattern at the hems.
Citrine felt herself feeling insecure – the weeks of grime, starvation, and mental torture oppressing the usual flirty woman. But despite her own feeling of inaccuracy , as she turned, Citrine brought her hands behind her back to rest, clasped together one wrist in the palm of the other, her head bowed, and stride slightly wider than usual. It was a very submissive greeting. She questioned, a hint of surprise on her lips. She hadn't expected to see her out in the gardens today. In fact? It'd been nearly a week since she'd last seen her - ever since she'd been brought out of the rabbit warren and given a proper room. Her voice was respectful and subdued. She said, relaxing her stance, but still keeping her head down and hands behind her back. Lady Maeve gave her Precious a smile and walked closer, her hand running over her cheek. “Oh Precious, no need to stand on ceremony – as pretty of a picture as you make. Shall we go for a walk?” The Queen to Be extended her elbow for Citrine to take, as if she were a gentlemen escorting a lady. The kitsune bowed, stepped closer, and hooked her arm and drew herself close to the Winter Lady with a relieved sigh. She'd missed this.
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Post by Ossular on May 20, 2019 20:52:23 GMT
"You won't be cold for much longer," Orin would repeat, pulling her hand back from Citrine's cheek and wipe away the tears from her eyes. This wasn't a time for tears. An inhale to steel herself, Orin made her way over toward the shelf, cracking open a bottle of whiskey and taking a swig of liquid courage before moving to one of her chests on the ground. Opening it and retrieving another dose of the gnomish swiftsail, she would look at the waxy leaf before moving to a mat that was rolled up in the corner. Taking it, throwing it flat, and quickly positioning herself on her knees, the eladrin would take one last deep breath, her nostrils flooded with the familiar taste of fire and burning cinnamon that only dwarven firewhiskey could give.
One last time, Orin would look over to Citrine. She would close her eyes and put the leaf under her tongue, closing her mouth around it. It would be only a moment before her lips would numb. Her body would tingle like a thin comb was drug over it, her skin standing on end. Her breathing would grow more shallow. Her perceptions would dim. Sounds would fade, and with them the world. Until everything came back, just as it had last time. With a rising feeling, Orin would inhale, and remembering everything, energy would crackle and surge through her body, lightning and thunder would flash and churn. The moisture would thicken across the windows. The heat from her heartbeat would intensify, and the flowers in the room would rise up ever slightly, drawing new life from the incorporeal eladrin surging with otherworldly power. The wind and the lightning would float over toward Citrine, and she would look down at her beloved Firebird.
With one more thought, Orin would slip and drive through Citrine's lips, nostrils and ears. Citrine would inhale Orin, and with it, the energy that she carried within her. While it was nowhere near the potency, it was undoubtedly Orin Izuki, and through Citrine, Orin fell into another world entirely. It wasn't necessarily Citrine's mind, but more how Orin perceived and understood everything that was happening inside of her neach-gaoil. She was flying through dark skies. Droughts of icy rain fell out of view, and the only reference point that Orin had to go off of was a churning, fiery glow in the distance. There was a cry and a wave of heat would surge from the light, dissipating the icy for only a moment before the raindrops quickly refroze into hail once more.
Orin pushed, flying as fast as she spiritually could toward the oranges and reds on the horizon. As she pierced the eye of this great storm, the winds calmed. The eladrin was a small streak of prismatic light, a wisp compared to what her eyes fell upon. A great bird of fire and power, flying in the center of this storm. The form held no eyes, but it's gaze was felt the moment it noticed her. Snow didn't fall here, but as Orin approached this phoenix, it called to her. She moved toward the form, and as it released it's next surge to push back the circle of storms that was slowly closing in, the eladrin pierced it's primordial form, and everything went white.
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Citrine
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6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
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Post by Citrine on May 20, 2019 22:14:52 GMT
There was a fire fight going on as Orin slipped from one reality to the next.
A great massive entity of fire, battle, war, and destruction flew opposite the icy cold winds and mayhem of a winter storm. Motes of fire dripping and freezing off its wings once the lava flung off and froze in the vortex, acting as falling meteoroids or falling stars. Walls of fire swooped and helixed following the beats of the bird's wings, giving an outline of where it had traveled. It's war cry thrummed like thunder and it's cries summoned lightning.
It noticed the appearance of Orin and screamed an acknowledgement, both positive and negative.
It hadn't forgotten how she had pulled at his fire, interfered and entwined with his daughter, and ultimately? Stole his fire. Denied his daughter to burn and destroy - forcing him to discipline her for her disobedience to him. But right now there were more pressing matters to attend to.
The impression of disapproval was hot like iron as it swooped and fought the storm. Underneath the distaste for the kineticist though was an emotional concern and worry for what was happening. The Winter Court was interfering on something they had no right to. The Summer Court didn't stand for this - the feywild's elemental creature naturally diametrically opposed to the cold.
The entity opened what passed as its beak to scream a powerful drum beat of sound - whistles, thunder, horns, adrenaline, heat, passion, anger, lust; all the emotions fire claimed as its own. The scents that often came across Citrine when emotionally stirred were found here as well as the Firebird sang its warcries. Sandalwood for territorialness. Burning sage for the overwhelming desire to purge and cleanse. But most of all? It smelled like cedar and dragon's blood - vengeance and strength. They weren't a combination of scents Orin would have ever detected from Citrine, but the implications and sensations she felt in this place of existence led little doubt that the Firebird was furious, angry, and demanded blood and fire from its enemies for daring to try and claim his daughter. The closest? In the circus tent, but even then - Orin's commands had nipped those emotions before they could even alight in Citrine's veins.
It knew though, despite its own displeasure with the entity of the elements, it could help. And so it shared its fire, reluctantly, in hopes of burning away Winter's touch - a pulse of fire and heat that whited out Orin's vision.
Snow drifted around her, standing in the middle of a snowy existence. The Firebird cooed an ancient voice in Orin's ear. "Find my Daughter, Blight of the Winter Court."
The environment around Orin started to settle into a familiar scene. Wonderland. Orin was once again in Wonderland, standing in the gardens of the time when Lady Maeve reigned. Different, but no less recognizable, as when Last Susan presided.
There, walking a ways away from her, was a 5 foot 9 silver and sapphire kitsune Citrine escorting the royal casual presence of Lady Maeve.
Walking through the gardens, meandering through the herb boxes and admiring the statues and features the gardens had to offer, Citrine and the Winter Lady were enjoying a pleasant discussion, one Orin could overhear if she got close enough.
"And you have settled well I take it, Precious? I am ashamed that I had yet to check in on you this past week." Her purr was chilling and manipulative, aspects Citrine seemed not to be able to detect.
"Nae! Daen't be ashamed!" The thought Lady Maeve might feel that was spiked dread in the kitsune. "Ye've much more important things tae dae Aye'm sure.... Though Aye'm glad ye're back. Aye.... Aye missed ye somthin' terrible. Aye..." The kitsune looked down, moving white hair from her eyes. "Aye can't stand teh loneliness." She shivered, both from the cold and the thought of being locked away again in the dark and hunched closer into Maeve's arm crook. "They, they're nae comin' after all, like ye said again an' again. Aye'm sorry tae 'ave doubted ye Lady." Her hands gripped tighter to Maeve's forearm. "Just... Et's 'ard, comin' tae terms with - bein' left." She sounded as if she might start crying.
Lady Maeve simply ran her pointed manicured nails over Citrine's head and scratched at an ear. "Never doubt that with me my Precious. We had a difficult start, I know. But now you see. And that is what matters now." The kitsune nodded and leaned into the touch, touch starved as she was still.
Orin, if she came closer, would not gain any sort of look or stare from the two. It was as if she weren't there.
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Post by Ossular on May 21, 2019 2:59:36 GMT
Orin's vision would grow white as she delved into the depths of the Firebird's unadulterated power. Even now, it's heat was throttling, it's primordial pressure almost too intense. Orin screamed at one point, she was sure, but there was no ability to hear sound through the churning of the flames that pervaded her existence as a whole. Then? A sight she never thought she would see, much less wanted to see anytime soon. Around her existed Wonderland, though she didn't feel the brisk cold. The gardens were reorganized slightly different than when she had served her century there, but unmistakable and real.
Walking away from her? Was Citrine... and Lady Maeve- the Fey Queen of Winter that Orin hadn't met but had heard a lot about. She was shorter than Lady Susan, but every step as elegant and cold. They were having a conversation as the eladrin approached, steam rising up from her body and shoulders every time a snowflake touched her.
"You're not alone," Orin would speak to Citrine, a kitsune- the same as when she had thrown her from the shadows before- before she had perished in the Caverns of the Crone. Still, though, she was just as beautiful now as she was one-hundred and some years in the future. Orin knew this was an illusion and nothing more. She would listen to Citrine, and Orin herself would have thoughts and traces of emotion from her time with Susan. She had settled, eventually, on the truth that no one was coming for her; that Citrine wasn't going to appear on some horizon and whisk her away or even come and visit.
But that's what the fey did. They'd tell you no one was coming. They'd convince you. But they'd never tell you that they themselves were the ones preventing anyone from coming in the first place. At least devils were straightforward. At least demons were instinctual. Fey? Fey would twist you. Manipulate you. Make you agree with them- all while pulling the strings behind the scenes to ultimately get what they wanted, and the Winter Court? They always got what they wanted.
Not today, Orin mentally decided. Here, in this place? Orin wouldn't resign Citrine to her memories for her benefit. They would leave Wonderland together or not at all, and Orin would use the Firebird's power to do so. As Lady Maeve touched Citrine's head and temples, resting on her ear, the eladrin would settle a hand on Citrine's opposite shoulder. "I'm sorry, Citrine. I'm sorry for all of this. I'll fix it. We can be together now, my neach-gaoil. We can rest. We can just... be together.
"Just wait a little bit longer, alright?" the eladrin would faintly smile, digging her hand into Citrine's collar a little more. She wasn't going to like what came next, but much like Citrine couldn't live without Orin, the opposite was true. It's not that she couldn't, though. It was that she wouldn't live without Citrine. No reincarnations. No service to a Court. She would just... follow Citrine into the dark, even if she had to send her to the afterlife herself.
"I love you," Orin would purse her lips, finding her resolve to do what was needed.
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Citrine
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Post by Citrine on May 21, 2019 3:21:36 GMT
Continuing to lead herself and Lady Maeve around the gardens, lapsing into a comfortable silence, Citrine didn't hear or feel anything out of place. But one of her tails twitched, the white and black tipped fur twisting to momentarily brush against the space where Orin's leg stood. It just went through the space, meeting no resistance. Was it just coincidence? Had to be. Then her tall and proud fox ear flicked backwards as if a fly had landed on it. At the same time Orin said 'I love you.' It... Couldn't just be coincidence.
Somewhere, deep within the illusion she was entangled in, Citrine sensed Orin. Just as it should be. The winter storm and the inferno Firebird, though, swirled on.
"Have you given any more thought as to the peril I find myself in Citrine?" Lady Maeve asked finally breaking the silence, her voice like cracking ice, moving her arm out of Citrine's escort to wrap around her shoulders, moving as if to knock Orin's hand on the opposite shoulder away. But it was impossible for an illusion to react like that. Right? Winter moved to bring the fox towards the black inky fountain water. It was a sheet of void, no reflection, just a vast black of nothing.
Citrine started to pull away from the water, stopping her steps both at the question and the approaching darkness. "Aye 'ave, me Lady. An' me answer es still nae. As es always will be." Her voice was firm yet apologetic. "Are teh names o' everyone nae enough?" It was a foolish question, Citrine knew it before she asked. Orin would know from her own experience as well. Lady Maeve gave her Precious a downtrodden disappointed look. "Precious." The tone said it all, don't ask stupid questions. The kitsune dropped her head and pushed a hand through her hair, the flash of a black spot on the center of the palm visible for just a moment if you thought to look for it. It curled into a loose fist soon after, as if already accustomed to being hid.
"M'sorry." She mumbled, speaking to the ground, shoulders drooping. She'd gone and made Maeve use that tone of voice.
Lady Maeve had separated herself from the kitsune and sat primly on the edge of the fountain's concrete ledge, leaving Citrine on her own to shiver in the cold without her aura. "Now, come sit with me by the water here. You love the water, don't you? I made sure the fountain was running, just for you. A gift to occupy your mind when I'm away." Even when not present the archfey wished to be the only thing on Citrine's mind.
Citrine's feel began to move towards the fountain before the mind could register it was obeying a command masquerading as a request. She then stopped, toes curling in the snow. A slight fear in her eyes, looking at the water, prevented her from moving closer. Her black spotted hand clenched tighter.
"Citrine. Come."
Still Citrine remained still, something holding her back.
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Post by Ossular on May 21, 2019 3:56:15 GMT
Orin watched as Citrine reacted, her ear twitched. She had felt the leg go through her, though she had kind of expected it, honestly. She herself was still under the effects of Swiftsail and the wind felt so pleasant and this was all a metaphysical space she was in. It would make sense, in most circumstances, that she couldn't physically manipulate anything here. She was a ghost, effectively, but one that Citrine would still react to. Though watching Lady Maeve move around Citrine and block her way and move her arm, to which Orin legitimately reacted to as if she was touched.
What? There was no way. Orin would look over herself in a bit of confusion as Citrine was whisked away toward the water fountain that shone like the Abyss, stark black like thick molasses but as fluid and slippery as olive oil. The eladrin remembered the fountain, though in her time here, it had a bit of a different design. The conversation continued, and Orin watched. The Black Spot. Water. Orin would look back and forth, everything clicking in her mind. If the Black Spot would teleport her away- at least if Citrine believed it would- then maybe it would be enough for Citrine to wake up. They would still probably have enough to work through after this was all over. You could just close your eyes and ride the currents.
Orin would move over to the water in Citrine's stead, standing next to Lady Maeve. She would look over the Winter Lady of the time once more, a crackle of lightning crackling across her features. "She's mine. Not yours," Orin would claim, as if Lady Maeve could hear her, before she reached out a hand to the water. She was a kineticist of five elements. The seas. The skies. The land. The summer heat. The space beyond stars. She commanded water, air, earth, fire and darkness, and she would will herself to do it here, at least once more. She would move the Heavens for this woman.
The eladrin's hand turned to fire, and a single finger touched the surface of the water. A pulse. A second pulse. A third. Fourth. Colors started to emit from the void, water bubbling as if it were being boiled. A light would break through, and Orin would step into it, standing over the light as it ate away the dark, leaving only pure reflective light. Even with all her power, though, she could only maintain this for so long. She would smile, despite her existence pulsing and wavering as she burnt herself with the power of the Firebird coursing through her.
"Citrine Rain Redbriar!" Orin would start. "Captain of the Blood Red Rose and a reincarnated phoenix of the Firebird himself, made in his image! Precious of the LATE-" emphasis on the dead part, there- "Winter Lady and marked for death by the very Herald of Gozreh you once loved! Once upon a time, you were a gun-slinging human Free Captain of the Neverending Story, then press-ganged by the very same Herald to take his place in service for one-hundred years!
"Even further, you were an elvish alchemist! Deep in the woods of the Southern Varisian druidic forests! A traveling halfling gypsy bard who followed any path set before her! And caused mischief as a black-blade kitsune trickster until that life was forcibly taken from you! You have died countless times, only to live through a lifetime within a single moment! And you will always rise from the ashes of your pain and despair to scream your triumphant return to the skies! You're the Firebird's Daughter-" Orin would laugh a little bit at the end there. "-and a right pain in my arse!" she would portray her original accent- her Shackles born and raised pirate accent. "And Citrine Rain Redbriar is who you are!
"I'm not done with you, Citrine. I'll never be done!" Orin would proclaim from the fountain. "You're stuck with me, neach gaoil, and I- I need you to come back to me! Please!" The energy would wane, and Orin would feel a pulse. Her spirit was starting to burn out. The borrowed energy was waning- Orin didn't have too much longer. Still, though, Orin would hold out her hand toward Citrine, her eyes burning with primordial fire, her ambient command of the storm that was attuned to her lashing to keep the water clear for a little bit more. Just a little bit longer. Then she could rest with the winds.
She felt another pulse. "Rain will you hurry up?!"
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on May 21, 2019 4:24:31 GMT
We are fated Through the stones Time was torn and then resewn Blood and bone You're my soul And you're my home Her ear twitched again, picking up a sound whispered in the breeze and soft as the sun. Her eye twitched as her ear flicked again, the kitsune considering what she's sensed. The sun. She hadn't felt the sun in weeks. Months, even. Just cold dark ice snow. White black red blue. But the sun? How was she sensing the sun, here? Glancing upwards into the sky there was nothing but clouds. A bubbling sound then drew her nose down, ears perking through the lion mane of white hair. Something was changing the water. Citrine's eyes widened as she took a half step back in fear of the shifting colors - red, yellow, blue, green. Why did those colors seem familiar? A light shimmered on the surface and something strange appeared in the haze. A figure with a beaming smile. It was a very nice smile. She hadn't been smiled at like that in quite some time. "Precious." Lady Maeve spoke again, a cold ice in her voice. "Citrine Rain Redbriar." The figure began, and like a freefall Citrine's attention was fully ripped away from the Winter Lady to... "Orin, Lass?" She questioned, confusion evident. Lady Maeve had said no one was coming. And Orin was dead, ripped to pieces by shadows in the Crone's mountain cave. With each life laid to bare in words that bespoke of something more powerful then each on their own though, a shiver of warmth coated her skin. "Captain!" She purred then, the vulpine sound perking up and sending shivers down her spine. The illusion around her started to crack; sparks of fire replacing the drifting snow - clouds turning into smoke - the ground trembling with the distant war cry of a phoenix. Looking around her mouth opened in satisfaction as the desire to burn and purge and tear wrapped around her like a pair of wings. "- and a right pain in my arse!" Her attention snapped back to Orin, her grin much more devious when on a kitsune's snout then a humanoid face. "Oi, Aye've missed tha' accent 'o yers Luv." She clenched her hands and began to walk towards the fountain, scamper more like it, but then was halted by Lady Maeve standing in her way. "Citrine. Rain. Red-""Aye'm nae really 'ere, an' ye're nae really 'ere either." She stated hotly, the Firebird taking roost within her again as more and more sparks, burning debris, and even a few fist sized meteors began ripping through the illusion to show a swirling Abednego in the tears. "En fact -""Rain will you hurry up?!""- Aye gotta gae. Me Bonnie Lass es callin' fer me." She shifted then, her full blooded kitsune form fading into a swirl of frost and ice into a small sized four legged fox - who took off in a bound towards the fountain. A grip of unadulterated fear clenched her heart as she leapt towards the water, water wasn't good, but as she soared in the air her fur bristled from winter to summer, white to red. She was Citrine Rain Redbriar, indeed, and fear would never stop her. The small red fox jumped into the extended arm of her Captain, a fire back in her eyes, and burrowed its nose into the crook of her armpit. The Firebird screamed again, war song billowing like bellows around them as the cracks and rips permitted his pure elemental and celestial power to break the rest of the illusion. Sing me a song of a lass that is gone Say, could that lass be I? Merry of soul, she sailed on a day Over the sea, to Skye
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Post by Ossular on May 21, 2019 4:46:24 GMT
Citrine would leap, and the scene around her would change. Unlike the last time something like this happened, where the shadows were closing in and in a desperate attempt to at least save one of them, Orin had thrown the small fox-form of Citrine away from the shadows, this time, the shadows were being expelled as that same fox returned to Orin's arms. As the pure white light overtook them, the Firebird's fierce celestial rage coating them, Orin would hold on to Citrine. They would fall through the illusion of Wonderland. They would coast across the skies as fire gouts broke free from each feather on the wings of Citrine's father. The two shot out like a cannon, soaring across an open sky reflecting from a vast ocean below.
They would eventually go upward, into the clouds, and while Citrine was held as tightly as possible, Orin would start to feel herself fading. The energy had left her. The small amount of energy she had gathered was expelled. She was on her second dose of Swiftsail in the same twenty-four hour period. Still, though, Orin would persevere, despite the fact that the winds were coursing through her. Despite the fact that she wanted to continue. There was a point that Orin... didn't know why she was doing this. She just knew that she had to do this.
Citrine would exhale Orin, the wind would coalesce around the Firebird as they came back to reality. The eladrin would look out the window, hearing the call of the wind, feeling it urge her to come play, just a little bit longer, as her race had originally done before they took physical form. Right- physical form. She had one of those, right? The eladrin would look over to... a body, coming closer. She would reach out for the body, which would inhale slightly. This was her? Slowly, over the course of about a minute, the wind that was Orin would slither back into her eladrin body, and the physical body would slump and fall forward.
"phuck~!" a chirp would come from the floor as Orin spoke into her ma, with the eladrin slowly climbing her way to her arms and knees, catching her breath. Wait! Citrine! The eladrin would grab the edge of the bed, trying to move to the best of her ability to stand up despite the tingling sensation of her entire body being asleep and chilled, despite the fire that... had been... in the fireplace. It had been there. That's why she had set her mat there in the first place- so the drug wouldn't last long enough for her to disassociate and she could safely come back.
Orin's eyes would slowly widen as she was able to focus suddenly. Her breath game out in streams of fog and steam. The end of her bed- even parts of herself, along with Citrine- were covered in a thin amount of frost.
A shiver traveled down Orin's back.
They had gone from the frying pan and jumped straight into the freezer.
Orin's eyes would widen, and slowly turn to the corner by the door.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on May 21, 2019 4:59:15 GMT
A slow clap from behind Orin would sound. A constant pattern of quiet, quiet, quiet, clap. Hoarfrost covered everything, the room was dark but for the single candle that was barely holding onto its flame. The temperature had to be sub zero. Citrine was hyperventilating from the cold in the room, and paired with the smell of Lady Maeve still surrounding her? Her body was going into shock. Just as Lady Susan had known she would. It was part of the reason she was here. The Winter Mantle flooding the room intensifying the effect of the oil. Orin had at least an overall pleasant experience with the Winter Court, if you could call it pleasant. Citrine? It was trauma, disjointed memories, and an unraveling of her mind's ability to tell what was real and what was illusion. Even fire couldn't burn in temperatures this cold.
"Well done Darling." Her voice crooned from the corner, the polar vortex tone summoning Orin to turn to look into the corner. There, standing in the reflection of the mirror, was Lady Susan. Dressed in black and dark purple as if in mourning the Winter Lady held no happiness or sympathy in her eyes. "It seems the bargain has been fulfilled."
Her eyes looked down from Orin's face to see the vial on the floor, rolled out of Orin's hand when under the effects of Swiftsail, then back up to her disobedient Knight. "And my gift has been used." Never had she spoken so slowly, so coldly, or so bitter.
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Post by Ossular on May 21, 2019 5:19:14 GMT
"Yes," Orin would speak, her emerald eyes coming to Lady Susan's reflection. "It has, hasn't it?" Orin would stumble a little bit as she picked up a set of boots- her Boots of the Winterlands- and turned away from the Winter Lady to look over Citrine who was hyperventilating on her bed. Orin would stuff Citrine's avian raptor talons into the Boots and latch the belt at the top of them. It would take a little bit, but it would at least help, and that's all Orin was after for the moment. Next, Orin would grab a dagger from her nearby set, dragging her feet as she did so, her body still cold, still adjusting the best it could. After everything, she wasn't going to let this be the end. Not here. Not like this.
"It has," Orin would respond as she rolled the layers of blankets up over Citrine, exposing the mattress below. The dagger would cut into it, and the eladrin would peel back the folds of cloth used, roll Citrine up like a burrito, and then tuck the mattress against the frame before she would bend down, grab the frame, and lift. It was a little bit of a struggle, and her body didn't want to, but she would wedge Citrine in a small barrier, wrapped in most of her blankets, against the wall with the corner in a loose blanket pile. It was the best she could do.
"You didn't want this to happen," the eladrin spoke, dropping the dagger to the table she had retrieved it from before turning back to face Lady Susan's reflection. She could tell there was a whole new level of "upset" that she was about to experience, but at this point? Orin didn't care. She bent down, picking up the vial. "It's why you took my memories. It's why you send Puppers after me. It's why you pervade my mind when I meditate. It's why you reincarnated me as an eladrin. Sent me here. Pulled Darious from the shadows and sent him, too! And then? After all that, when I finally found her? You did... this? To try to take her from me?"
The eladrin would take a couple steps further across the room, leaning on the table. "It wasn't a gift. None of this was. It was never meant to be a gift! These powers you gave me? All sweet nothings!" Orin would, for the first time in a long time, summon her stark white rapier and stab it into the table, leaving the blade to wobble back and forth. "All ways to keep tabs on me. All ways to make sure that this didn't happen! After all this, we still found each other- just like I said would happen! And what are you doing?" Orin would scoff. "You're watching me from a mirror. "You only cared about my power and how it could benefit you and the Winter Court! It was your Darling. I was just a damn vessel.
"You can't even come talk face to face with me because you never cared about me in the first place!" Orin would raise her voice, hands slamming into the table between her and the mirror.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on May 21, 2019 5:55:36 GMT
The mirror rippled, shimmered, and chimed as Lady Susan stepped out of the frame with a deadpan look on her face. She stepped, the heels of her boots clinking against the ice that flooded the room. Within the mirror her aura was repressed. In the open? The room turned into a miniature Wonderland. Another step and another as Susan crossed the room, sniffed at the air in an irritated huff and walked right up to her disobedient Winter Knight, brought up her icy mage hand, and pinned Orin to the wall in a death grip. Like the clamped jaw of a winter wolf the eladrin was trapped. As she dangled there, feet two paces above the floor, the winter season rippled over her, turning her features to mimic the archfey in front of her.
"You are my Darling, Corrina." She vowed and her arcane fingers tighten around her throat, a dark smile on her jeweled lips. "Of course I wanted none of this to happen. I despise harming you Ellethwen, but here we are. Disobedience of this magnitude is unforgivable." Susan liked to think of herself as patient. Rather kind as well… A paragon of what made the fae Winter Court of Golarion feared. She was the benefactor and ally of Baba Yaga, successor to the Mantle of the Winter, The Unseelie Queen Who Is To Come, Lady of Air and Darkness. Manipulative. Cold. Considerate. Welcoming. Understanding.
… and never forgiving.
There was no doubt Lady Susan was here, in the flesh, and not a simulacrum.
"I took your memories. Puppers was sent. The vial was rigged in my favor. It is always. In. my. Favor. You foolish mortal." Her voice grew in power, a glacier scraping over the stones of the high north as more and more ice and snow and cold seeped into the room and all its belongings. "I have done all I can to ensure you stay at my side. You agreed after all, accepted my contract. Your feelings about the matter are on you, Darling. You leaving my side?" She shook her head with a tuttering tisk tisk sound.
"You've revoked my gifts. You've revoked my power. You've revoked me. Punishing and harming you? That won't do anything, will it." She hoisted Orin higher by another three inches, then snapped her finger and thumb. "You are nothing anymore Izuki. I curse you to be alone, back in the darkness, where you should have stayed. Nothing is yours any longer. Nothing." And with that final statement? Lady Susan faded in the fey's version of a teleportation.
Silence remained in the room.
Snow fluttered in mid-air where time seemed to stop.
"O-Orin Lass?" A breathy stuttering voice heaved from the blanket burrito. "Aye... Aye'm - M'cold."
Turning around Orin would see Citrine starting to fade, materializing into snow and frost before Orin's very eyes. The furious yell of a phoenix deafened the room before it was silenced into nothing.
Nothing remained.
Not even an echo.
Nothing.
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Post by Ossular on May 21, 2019 7:05:45 GMT
The first step echoed, and Orin's eyes widened. Before she knew it, she was pinned to the wall, her body throbbing in the sudden impact. Her hair turned white. Her body grew cold. Orin struggled, clawing at the mage hand on her throat. She stopped, though, a wild stare aimed down at the Winter Lady as she spoke, admitting everything. It was starting to get hard to breath. Orin's eyes were starting to roll back into her head as she tried to gasp at anything, but the hand gripped tighter, and hoisted the eladrin like a flag nearly to the roof.
"Not. Nothing-" Orin managed to meekly exhale against the mage hand. "Me. I'm- me." It was the only thing she really got out before she was thrown across the wall and into the hallway. She breathed, coughing as Lady Susan teleported away. The silence that loomed was only disturbed by the realization of what Lady Susan had said. She stumbled back through the door, waving her hand and snapping her fingers- nothing. No magical potency. No Shatter spell.
"R-Rain?" the eladrin would make it to the flipped bed. "Citrine?!" Orin would grip the top of the bed, pulling it back toward her with a little bit of effort. She coughed, hands on her knees for a brief moment.
"O-Orin Lass?" a stuttering Citrine would call out as Orin fell to her knees. Quickly, Orin threw back the blankets, clawing at them. Citrine would start to fade. Her feathers first, then her hair, her face, her neck, and further down. Orin's eyes widened in disbelief. "Aye-"
"No. No, Rain. No."
"Aye'm - M'cold."
"Citrine. Citrine no- stay with me, love, please,"
It was too late. The pristine, fresh-frozen Citrine would disassemble into frost, then snow in Orin's hands. Then nothing as the phoenix cawed out one last shriek of defiance. Orin surged forward, her body falling forward as the rapier also dissolved. A shaky hand brought up the last of the snow before it melted into water, with the eladrin trying to keep a hold of something that was no longer capable of being. The only thing that remained was a set of rings and a medallion. One was an arcane focus that Citrine used. The medallion was prove of her Heraldly- Mani had given it to her, and she had held onto it after all this time. The remaining two were more intricate- Orin had only seen them before. They had agreed that after everything involving Baba Yaga was done and over, that Citrine would get a proper ring, and she would use it to propose to the kineticist. To marry Orin.
Orin held their wedding rings.
"No." Orin would whisper, shaking as she turned back, grabbing the rings and the . "No! NO! You get back here!" Orin would shout, her voice breaking as she turned back toward the mirror. "You get back here and you fix this! You take me instead!"
Nothing.
"She doesn't- no! You don't get to do this because you lost! You don't get to take what is mine because I won!"
Nothing.
"Susan!!!"
Nothing.
Orin was breathing heavily at this point, tears down her face, sobs through her teeth as she fell to her knees in the middle of the room. The floodgates finally broke, and Orin slowly lurched forward. The sobs turned to cries as her fingers dug into the back of her head. She had come this far. She had gambled- won- and then lost everything that she had won. All because of her actions. By the time that the City Guard and the Griffon Riders showed up? They found one surviving person in the epicenter of the Mariner's Hall. From the fact that all of the area had been frozen, Orin had currently been a Winter-aligned eladrin, along with the flow of magic and all signs pointing that it came from Orin herself thanks to a fey-like signature. Orin Izuki was manacled, bound, and taken to the Castle Waterdeep Dungeon. She didn't resist. She didn't bother moving. She didn't even answer the guards as they questioned her about what had happened.
It was days.
There was a funeral, but Orin wasn't able to attend. Later that same day, though, Orin was finally formally charged.
Six charges of murder without justification.
Thirty-two counts of vandalism.
Thirty-two counts of disturbing the peace.
Thirty-two counts of damaging property and/or livestock.
It totaled out to a total of sixty years of hard labor, plus an additional year imprisoned including a 3200 gp fine, plus an additional 800 gp fine, plus an additional fine of 22500 gp. For every gold she couldn't pay, Orin would serve another three days in hard labor, which could total to another 219 years of hard labor- a sentence that could easily be served by an eladrin such as Orin. Even as they gave the sentence, Orin wouldn't respond. Even as they said there were complications, Orin wouldn't respond. Character witnesses that came forward. Neighbors. People that knew Orin. It pushed back the judging.
Her thoughts, at night, were spent staring at the wall, facing away from the bars. Her hands and feet were always bound with thick adamantine chains. Her mouth was bound with a leather strap to prevent spell-casting of any kind. Day would come. Orin would pick at her breakfast slop. Night would come. Orin wouldn't sleep. All of the things she had done to get here? All of the people she had hurt? All of it was to get Citrine back, and all of it was for naught. She... didn't care anymore. There was nothing she could do.
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