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[Shri'hrae]

---

Cold, so cold. Sensation that had drifted out her scope hours ago invaded and taunted.

Hazed and tainted images circled her, whispering. False smiles that curled and billowed in the smoke gave way to sharp teeth and blood encrusted edges.

Tiles seemed to wrap around her, forcing her upward. But that wasn't possible was it? Or were they dragging her down? Directions were of little use right now.

Her hand outstretched she grabbed for the one thing she recognized, the silver cord. Stretching and thinning it remained just out of reach before it faded into the background leaving her isolated.

Ol zhah naut draeval quin Ilhar

Hidden: 

It's not time yet Mother

So tiny. A miniature version of Vryn stared back at her from the wall. Her own violet-red eyes encased in his thin, hallowed face.

Ussta farjali belbol

Hidden: 

My Precious gift

The words were haggard and seeped from her soul. Likewise parallel streams of blood had seeped from the gaping wound in her body, their body, to congeal on the floor.

Bobbing up and down in a sea of loathing and unspoken fear, the impossible had occurred. Her spirit had been broken.
_________________
*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Shri'hrae]

---

Ignorance and bliss. That's what lay beside her in the leather pouch. All she had to do was reach over and take it. Curled against the wall like an animal, like exactly what they had called her, she coiled.

Details slinked in and out of the crevices of her mind. That point where nightmares were confirmed reality had arrived. It edges slicing into the plausible with cold fact and searing honesty.

She leaned, pulling the bad to her and setting it in her lap so near to the destruction it had helped reek. Fingers just this side of midnight pulled open the drawstrings and dipped within. The blue powder illuminating her fingers like fairy dust.

Red tinged eyes, violet all but hidden, stared at the substance for what seemed like hours as she rolled it over and over in her hand.

“The animal the bites the healing hand deserves to die,” Dealthagar had said.

“You did this. This is your fault.” Joanna's words coming hot on his heals.

And here lay salvation.

With a scream Shri'hrae picked up the bag and sent it flying across the room, blue powder scattering into the air as the leather collided with the wall.

Retreating to her side, her mind searched for the touch that had, up until yesterday, up until that powder, always existed.

Legs pulling up around her once more, searing pain radiating from within, a dull green burn illuminated the tendrils of space.

Somehow, somewhere he -knew-.
_________________
*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Dealthagar]

---

Dealthagar stood in the entryway of his tower seething.

On one hand, Shri'hrae was barely a girl, raised under torturous circumstances. Her mind and body warped by the drow who stole her from her mother. On the other, she had attacked people he considered friends, even if ideogically they did not truly mesh.

He had tried to appeal to Isk's sence of propriety, relying on racial pride in thier superiority to cease the physical assaults and torture. If the shade had taken a stronger role in recovering the girl, she would not be in the situation she was now. He was not to blame, but the guilt still tugged at the back of his mind.

If he broke the girl out of prison, he would chance damaging his relationship with Magincia and the trade union as a whole. Was a single drow girl worth it? No.

But his own sence of morality saw her suffering as needless and pointless. She would die from her wounds as it was. A simple attack was not warranting of the suffering she was experiencing. Perhaps slipping her a poison. A mechanical servant could slip it to her and no one would be the wiser. The girl wished her own death as it was. There was no harm in hastening it. The drow were master poisoners. He had to have a few samples of the toxins they used in his lab.

His foot touched the first stair, and he paused.

The girl had chosen her own fate.

Who was he to interfere?

Shaking his head, he smoothed his robes. if she was to live, her people would need to save her, and she would need to want to live. Her will was either broken, or her people had taught her the art of deception that they lived by.

Her life or death was not important enough to threaten the security of Nujel'm.
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Joanna Weaver]

---

The pitch black woman rose and approached the bars as Joanna stepped close to speak through them. This damaged and now broken drow woman, whom had risked so much and ultimately paid so dearly for her hatred. And yet, through it all, Joanna knew there still lay within her a quiet strength. One that she herself was very familiar with.

It was early. The Magnate had not yet arrived and Joanna would have answers to the questions that plagued her mind. Brown eyes met ruby between the bars and she felt that this time, without additional torture, the usually aggressive woman might be more forthcoming with her obedience and knowledge. As the hour deepened, the administrator was proven correct. Shri was much more docile and conversational, and the two spoke in an almost intimate manner of things both business and far more personal. In a strange way, perhaps the two had found some connection.

As The Magnate arrived with Lord Cuthbert, Joanna fell back into her usual businesslike manner. Shri would finally allow them to remove the child from her womb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joanna inspected her work. The birth area was cleansed, untorn. As for the drow's stomach wound, she had made sure that Lords Isk and Cuthbert weren't in sight when she had poured the healing potion into it. It would mend soon enough. She straightened the area up and tucked the items she'd needed back into the box from whence they'd come.

Sitting back, she watched the tender and melancholy moment between the dark mother and child. So recently had this come on the heels of her own loss, it was impossible to detach herself from the compassion she felt even for such an enemy.

The moment was too soon torn and she was given the task of seeing the infant's corpse taken care of. When she had returned to the Cultural Center, more fitting a name presently than ever, she explained where she'd gone. While she would never dare to take the child to the Buc's Den healers, she had thought Britain to be more suitable. The child's body had been given over to one of their healers to lay it to rest. Shri had seemed comforted with this news and it had brought a little more peace to Joanna's spirit.

She wondered where exactly Rune had gone with their own child.
_________________
"Art and architecture must combine to create something larger than either." ~ Robert Campbell

[Shri'hrae]

---

One by one the slices had fallen to the floor. Her stomach growled and rumbled severely missing the sustenance it so desperately needed.

“You're no good to me dead, Shri. I'm not going to poison you.” Isk's words were even. Despite his accurate reasoning as to why she wouldn't take the fruit his shortening of her name only angered her.

Watching Samara, his daughter and supposed precious gem, dip her hands into the blue powder however had her convinced that these people had no clue what real poison was.

“It makes you feel good.” Samara had stated and commenced to flying high as the seagulls over the Buc's Den waters.

“It makes you feel nothing.” Feeling good, Shri would have been able to handle, but feeling nothing was altogether different.

Nothing. No pain, no joy, no cord. Feeling nothing meant going back to isolation. Going back to the void that even the silver tether couldn't penetrate.

Tears raining down, they had held her. Her back flat against the cold stones her arms and legs held by the stranger with a fondness for pain, Isk had pried open her mouth taking the pain she inflicted in return.

- - - - - - -

Wrapping her arms around her, Shri'hrae cradled herself against the morning light. Memories of begging them to stop raced through her head. She'd pleaded and screamed. Anything but that powder. Anything but the nothing that followed. She could take the pain, she could take the broken bones and maybe with enough time she could even take the loss they had ripped from her.

Her ear rang where the newest addition had slapped her not once but twice.

Yes, she would take and do anything they wanted if it meant the nothing would cease.
_________________
*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Cuthbert]

---

This Drow was a tough one, no doubt about that. And she was fiesty. Cuth grinned with amusement as she spat another insult at him from the corner of her cell. He actually rather enjoyed their sniping at one another and was surprised by her wit. She had quite a knack for turning his own words around to insult him with. He often returned the volley of insults with his own, but every once in awhile the new Janissary, Khaliq, made any reply unnecessary as he would belt her across the head.

The fact that Khaliq made sure to hit her ear every time pleased Cuthbert as well. It was akin to hitting at her very core - attacking one of the physical manifestations of the fact that she was a lower being. Her ears. Her disgusting Drow ears.

The verbal volleys continued and Cuth soon grew bored of their little game. Isk and Samara were here as well, and Cuth talked briefly with them about their "guest" before leaving. The Drow was tough, aye. But she would break. The powder would see to that.
_________________
General Cuthbert
Republic of Magincia [M]

Cuth 10:01 PM: hey man what ended up happening?
Isk 10:02 PM: I killed an orc, the other 4 killed me then they peed on me and the banner.
Cuth 10:03 PM: lmao. okay, so we must get them back
Isk 10:04 PM: I got f**kin peed on. so, yea




Long gone but not forgotten:
Humanis Homepage

[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

---

Several days had passed for the old Drow, and now he was growing more accustomed to the wretched isle of Magicinia. Luckily most of the city had be leveled years and years ago. So finding the Humanist areas did not take long. Three days prior, he found the directive awaiting him at The Double Dagger .The note left for him was simple and direct:

"Shri'rae is in Magicinia and being held by Isk and the Humanists. Watch the area and find out what you can. You will -not- engage them under any circumstances."
-The Patriarch-

Alaundril set about this task immediately, making his way to the island to try and find out where she was being kept. No doubt there would be plenty of security so the shadows would be his home for this mission. This time however it was different. They had part of the family. The bloodline.
A pity. No bloodshed...the time will come for that
For now the Brotherhood watched and waited...

[Khaliq]

---

Pain. it was one of the few things the children of Chaos understood. His past was little more than wisps of smoke and fog, but the methods of his old life came to him naturally. Up until now, the methods of torture Magincia had used had been crude and unrefined. He would be glad to teach them the methods his people had perfected after lifetimes of practice.

She had howled when he dangled her by her hair.It gave him a weapon to come back to her with when needed. She was just the right weight that he could manage her with one hand and have a second free to work with.

The look of fear in her eyes when he put the razor in her mouth when she screamed told him he had her attention. She was a pretty thing, even if inhuman. The very real threat of a Buc's Den Smile cowed her into submission.

There was no point in threatening the girl obliqely. She was an animal, and sublety would be lost on her. She would obey, and be thankful for the mercy Isk gave her, as undeserving as she was of it. These Magincians were good people, and these black skinned filth would learn thier place. The slaps to her ear were precise, and after the second one she understood: comply or piece by piece he would take pieces from her. An ear was useless if the insides were burst. A hand was useless if the tendons in the forearm were severed. A mouth missing a tounge...she understood his point.

After returning to the villa, he washed his hands. They were without her blood, but the gesture was symbolic, washing the evil and filth from his body. A small rug he found in a closet worked as a sajjāda. Removing his sandals and kneeling, he pressed his forhead to the floor in prayer.

O glorious and rightous Spirit of the Philisophe. We, your servants have brought harm and anger into our hearts to cleanse the Chaos that which you abhor. We ask you forgive our anger and suffering, to cleanse this stain on our spirits. We do these things for the betterment of the world, for the rightous and virtuous pursuit of your magnificence and emulate your greatness.

Glorified art Thou, Spirit of the Philisophe! I beseech thee to let thy remembrance be my companion, thy love my aim, thy face my goal, and thy wish my desire. I am a sinner, O Spirit, and thou art the Ever-Forgiving. As soon as I recognized thee, I hastened to attain the exalted court of thy loving-kindness. Forgive me, O Philisoph, my sins which have hindered me from walking in thine path.

There is no one, O Spirit of the Truth, who can deal bountifully with me to whom I can turn my face, and none who can have compassion on me. Cast me not out, I implore thee, of the presence of thy grace, neither do thou withhold from me the outpourings of thy illumination and wisdom. My gaze hath, at all times, been fixed on the horizon of thy rightous providence, and mine eyes bent upon the court of thy tender mercies. Do with me as thou will. I am your eternal servant, and I ever walk the path you set forth to humanity. There is no truth but yours. No path but yours No mercy but yours. We are but men, and seek your being, the perfection of man.

[Shri'hrae]

---

"Apparently one has not forgotten you."

Isk said the name without emotion. His tone even and cold. He asks for something of you in return.

Calmly his henchman ordered her to turn round. She scanned Isk's body for any sign of a pouch and satisfied he did not carry one this visit she did as she was asked.

Her head had bobbed like the "Princess Folly" often did on the sea. Compliant and quiet she had done as requested and turned round.

Khaliq's cruel human hands snatched at her stark white locks ripping them from her head. She winced as he followed that by applying a healing salve to the open wound of her scalp.

"Thank me for my mercy."

She had heard but continued to stare silently into the corner. She was too busy concentrating on the stone's as Isk's hands ripped and cut at the bodice of her armor. The black leather tore away leaving only her off-midnight skin. She clutched her hands across her chest and turned once more to stare back into the cell.

"Thank me for my mercy and apologize for not saying so quick enough." Khaliq's tone went up an octave as he reached for the garden shears. Shri'hrae's eyes flicked to the metal in fear, something that was becoming a common occurrence with this human.

"The bag is not yet closed Shri." The warning was recieved and the use of her shortened name forced a little more of her to die with each breath it existed in.

In a voice barely above a whisper she gave them what they asked for. "Thank you."

"Good girl." As if she were a dog waiting for a bone, the trio nodded. Suddenly her head wrenched to the side as Khaliq slapped her. "Next time be faster with your words."

They exited then, leaving her alone to her thoughts.

Her thoughts. Cloaked in subserviance and her remaining shreds of her willpower, existed her thoughts. How long had she been here now, in this cold stone cage with it's dull banners? How long since the last time she felt anything but alone? Had seen anything but an enemy?

Enemy. The word hung like the thick smoke of a fire after the flames were extinguished. That's all that surrounded her. Somewhere on the other side of that firewall was Vryn. Or was he? She'd long ago lost any connection and the direction of her -enemies- words had her confused. Maybe the letter was a mirage. Just something else to rub... to remind her of what she had lost.
_________________
*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*

[Shri'hrae]

---

Laden with green moisture, the air sat heavily on her chest. Summers in Papua were always humid, but the stickiness these year seemed to cling to her curves more than normal. Her hair unbound, slid across her back as she turned her head to look at him. Violet-red met all red as laughter crossed between the two.

“Are you sure this is the spot?” Poppet's voice caressed her lightly.

“Yes! Right here is perfect for our house.” Excitement tinged the words. Shri'hrae's face lit with hope and promise.

“We can start building tomorrow.”

“That would work nicely, Poppet!”

“Who?” The tone was what made her take a second look.

The bright red of Vryn's eyes no longer stared back. Instead, a cold green and a porcelain mask had replaced him.

“No!” The scream broke the calm. Silently the green marsh faded into sandstone walls with a guillotine less than 3 paces from her.

“That's no way to speak to your Lord, Shri. Remember what I said about being a good girl? You've not kept your end of the bargain.”

From behind her she felt a heavy handed male shove on her twisted broken left arm forcing her down with his fingers.

Screams echoed off the walls as she felt her neck touch the rest and heard the slice of the blade as it fell..

- - - - - - -

Violet-red snapped open, a choked, “No!!” stationed on her lips though no sound had come out. The Silence of the Magincia night closing around her once more. She tried to shake off the nightmare. But between the growling of her stomach and the all too real feel of the neck rest still tingling her nape, sleep was no longer possible.
_________________
*Kitrye Ilhar's Yathrin, Kitrye Ilharn's Mirshann, Jal degahr*