Stealing Independence [Ashley and Nathan]

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

I was irritated. Again.

Granted, that was hardly anything unusual for me. But today, I was particularly irritated at a particular thing. Now, it wasn’t really logical to be angry at Galbatorix- he was short on personnel, what with that crop-killing outbreak and everything, but was there really a need to take it out on me? No! And worst of all, I was being paired, or rather tripled up with the second-most infamous bonded duo in the Empire, Murtagh and Thorn. I hadn’t ever really met them, mostly just caught glimpses of them flapping about Urû’baen, but I had heard enough about them to know that they were not to be trifled with. That was all I needed- a dragon biting my head off. It would certainly grow back, but it probably wouldn’t be too pleasant of an experience all the same.

The reason we were being glued together so indignantly was because of an uprising in Melian. Melian! That was no town; it was a village, just like those puny ones up in the northernmost part of Alagaësia. What use was it to the Empire? Galbatorix, with his practiced, charming words, had explained that it was an essential outpost for keeping the Varden out. A port in the storm, basically. And if the villagers, no matter how weak they were, were starting to get the idea that the Varden should rule them, then it wouldn’t be too convenient for the Empire. Personally, I didn’t see why we didn’t just send a couple of dragons to burn the lot of them. Small loss, and then it could be transformed into a full-out legion garrison. Sacrifice the few to save the many, and all that.

Honestly, I didn’t give a damn. All I really wanted was to go home to Uru’baen, bury myself in books, and keep looking for my Ereshkigal. That was all I wanted in this world. But Galbatorix, needing a Shade after Durza’s unfortunate death, wouldn’t stop poking his big nose where it didn’t belong. Everything came at a price, sadly.

Still, besides all that, I wished we could have gone on a slightly warmer day. It was unusually cold for springtime, a final bite from the fading winter, and I was freezing, especially since I had so foolishly dressed for spring weather. My dress was a deep purple velvet gown that was held up by a mere pair of straps at my shoulders, and was cut at the top to expose my cleavage. The dress was mostly dark violet, but lined at the hem, breast, and waist with black lace. It went straight to the ground, hiding my favourite black snakeskin heeled boots. To cover my shoulders, I’d been smart enough to bring along a black shawl that hung over my arms, but it was little protection against the biting wind. And it would probably be worse, up in the sky. I gripped the straps of my black clutch tightly, brushing back a few curly strands of scarlet hair. My makeup was immaculate- white powder, crimson lipstick, a tinge of blush, purple kohl to outline my yellow eyes and lavender mineral eyeshadow to match my dress. At least the cold wouldn’t affect my makeup. For jewellery, I only had simple gold hoop earrings.

I was currently in Feinster, awaiting the arrival of Murtagh and Thorn. My carriage hadn’t wanted to take me any further. Lujon and Ahzrukhal, my two undead bodyguards, were rather needed by Galbatorix for guarding his palace, when they clearly belonged to me. Murtagh and Thorn were supposed to fly me to Melian. The king, interestingly, hadn’t even understood why they couldn’t fly me there straight from Urû’baen. From the several books I’d read on Dragon Riders, dragons were known to be rather picky about whoever rode them, and I was quite convinced that a Shade wouldn’t exactly be Thorn’s top choice. The dragon was a vicious creature- I’d seen him tear apart humans as well as animals, and I wasn’t sure how well I’d fare with him. I’d read up on dragon behavioural books, and I at least knew that dragons weren’t stupid creatures, so at least I wouldn’t make the fatal error of many individuals by insulting him.

I glanced around myself, and shuddered for the umpteenth time. I’d only been standing there about fifteen minutes- I could even still see my black carriage disappearing over the hills to the north- but the cold made it feel like fifteen hours. I was standing at the gate, and had been given a rather large berth by coming and going peasants. Several times, a brave soldier or two had approached me and asked kindly if I wanted to wait in the warmth of a watchtower, but I’d be damned if I had to acquaint myself with those lousy drunkards vain enough to call themselves soldiers. One good thing about elves; their soldiers were true warriors, not mockeries of them, running around getting promiscuous young girls pregnant, drunk nearly to death, and starting idiotic fights. Philistines.

But finally, I was saved when a massive red dragon plunged out of the heavy grey clouds covering Feinster, a small figure on his back. All heads turned, and cries and shouts went up from soldiers and peasants alike. Some turned tail and ran, others gawked like idiots. They were idiots, after all. I clasped my hands and watched as the crimson comet dove out of the sky, racing towards the ground and then pulling up again just as he was about to end up splattered against the dirt. Thorn flew past me, leaving an enormous blast of freezing wind in his tracks that made me raise my hands to keep debris from flying in my eyes, and had my hair blowing out behind me. A ground-shattering thud announced that Thorn had landed, and I dropped my hands, letting my clutch slide onto my right wrist while I fumbled to fix my ruined hair.

Thorn had continued to grow larger as always, and now stared around himself, lips lifted in a fang-baring snarl as he glared at the humans around him. I certainly hoped he wasn’t hungry. Murtagh lifted his leg up over the saddle and dropped to the ground, landing feet-first with a clang. He was wearing classic Imperial armour, a helmet covering his features. He lifted it off, exposing shaggy dark hair and brooding grey eyes. Murtagh was a rather good-looking fellow, but I couldn’t be brought around to care. I only had Ereshkigal. No one could ever take her place.

However, the moment he saw me, Murtagh looked me up and down a couple of times before flashing white teeth in a lecherous grin. Oh dear. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn a dress that exposed so much cleavage. Self-consciously, I shrugged my shawl a little higher onto my shoulders before straightening and stepping towards the bonded pair. I curtsied graciously, gripping the hem of my skirt.

“Rider Murtagh Morzansson, and dragon Thorn.” I rose from the dip. “I am Pele Lahela Serowë, Imperial sorcerer, as you have no doubt already been told. It is an honour to meet you both.”

Words;; 1203
Muse;; Good, I like it a lot, but I was tired.
Thoughts;; Hooray! My first post for Pele in FOREVER!

[Ashkii]

<sup>OOC//:
Well, sorry this took a while, and sorry it’s nothing compared to your post. D:

BIC//:
Even though he was used to flying and was no stranger to the cold, his teeth had begun to chatter. The gloves he wore over his hands were never thick enough, and the armor, though it did stop most of the wind, could not cease the cold that seeped in. Probably all those weeks cooped up in meetings at the castle had weakened his body to the elements. Murtagh cursed Galbatorix for that. But instead of complaining to Thorn, he focused on studying the land below him, marveling at how small everything looked.

They were headed towards Feinster, a big, well-to-do city to pick up a little lady. Murtagh couldn’t help but shiver – and not without a bit of pleasure - at the thought of his companion for the mission: Pele Serowë. He had never actually had a conversation with the imperial shade, but he had viewed her from afar. Though Murtagh had been warned shades were clever creatures and should never be trusted or trifled with, he couldn’t help but be interested in the woman.

Murtagh didn’t know that much about her though. Most of the things he had overheard were whispered rumors and so he didn’t know whether to believe them or not. She was said to have been an elf before becoming a shade, and just by looking at her one could tell… even though she was obviously different from her kin. Although the rider couldn’t even call her an acquaintance and had only seen her at a distance, Murtagh could tell that he was one lucky man to be working alongside her.

’Or not,’ he heard Thorn growl in his head. The dragon himself had warned his rider not to be seduced by Pele’s looks, that she was a shade and was not to be depended on. Thorn respected Pele’s power and status, but was worried – and not without good reason – Murtagh would be infatuated with the sorceress and would not use good judgment. ’You are only human,’ Thorn reminded him, sarcasm practically oozing off of the words.

Murtagh though, was not worried. No woman had been able to seduce him before, and he had lived in the castle most his life, where beautiful noblewomen were in and out quite frequently. Besides, Galbatorix had dealt with shades for many years and nothing had ever happened to him! Murtagh patted the worried beast’s neck and laughed. ”Oh Thorn, just because you have no control over your natural instincts doesn’t mean I don’t.” The dragon huffed and smoke coiled out from his nostrils, but Murtagh could feel Thorn’s amusement, despite the dragon’s efforts to appear upset.

The rider realized it was time to get serious though and focus on the assignment. After picking up Pele in Feinster, they were to head to the small village of Melian to quiet the villagers’ rebellion. Murtagh felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought about the innocent people that would probably die that day. What sickened him the most though, was that he was actually excited to wreak some havoc. The young man knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but look forward to the expected slaughter.

Just as soon as he had started to worry about how he and Pele’s fighting techniques would mesh, Thorn interrupted his thoughts to announce Feinster was coming up in approximately thirty seconds. He quickly looked down, seeing the tall wall and powerful gate that protected the city. Murtagh gripped the saddle with one hand, and a scale in the other, ready for the impact that was sure to come. And it did, quite spectacularly, and Murtagh felt his teeth rattle as his dragon met the earth. Hearing the surprised shouts coming from peasants and soldiers alike, he worried they might try to attack him or Thorn. But he let those thoughts fade from his head when he noticed the woman standing a ways away dressed in a purple dress.

Murtagh patted Thorn’s neck once more to assure his friend before he swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. His armor made a small clanking sound, and he hated the way it made him sound awkward. Perhaps he was being too self-conscious though, he thought with a slight grin. The rider pulled the helmet from his head, cupping it under his arm so he could get a better look at the shade that stood in front of him, and so that, in turn, she could see him.

He wished he hadn’t removed the helmet though. He felt his mouth slowly falling open in obvious awe of her magnificence, and he had to force himself to close it. Murtagh recovered for a moment and flashed what he hope was a suave grin, but, the rider couldn’t stop himself from studying her more closely, and though he was sure Pele could tell he was eyeballing her, he just couldn’t stop. Finally, after what felt to him like a millennia, the rider finally managed to control himself and focus on her eyes instead of her exposed cleavage. He hated himself for coming off as a pervert and the stereotypical man, and hoped he could impress Pele as they started their mission.

’I warned you,’ Thorn snickered, although Murtagh could sense the worry in his tone. The young man wouldn’t admit to his friend he had been right about being distracted by the shade’s beauty, so instead, he simply ignored the dragon and tried to focus on what the sorceress was saying to him.

As Pele introduced herself, Murtagh began to wonder if shades could feel cold or not. The dress she wore was rather skimpy, the only bit of protection the shawl she had wrapped over her arms. He wanted to offer her some sort of coat or blanket, but the rider wasn’t sure he had packed anything that would offer much warmth. Besides, would she be offended if he did offer? Murtagh was so worried about whether to risk being a gentleman or not that he almost forgot to introduce himself. It was obvious Pele already knew who he was though. Hoping to announce himself as gracefully and respectfully as she had, the male dipped in a low bow before saying, ”It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Pele Lahela Serowë. I’ve heard many great things and I see none were an exaggeration.” Murtagh rose from his bow, a slightly troubled expression on his face. He wasn’t sure if he had used too much or too little respect. Deciding that dealing with men was so much easier, he forged ahead, deciding that there was never enough respect to be shown to the sorceress.

”I hope you haven’t been waiting long. If so, I’m terribly sorry.” He flashed a shy grin before he began to shuffle his feet. He certainly wasn’t coming off as debonair as he had hoped to. Murtagh wasn’t sure if she was the talking type. In a way, he hoped she was so he could talk with her, but just from the way she eyed him made him feel as insignificant as a bug, and when she didn’t say anything, he figured he had better start the mission now, before she truly got bored with him. ”So, are you ready to leave?” he asked, continuing to shuffle his feet awkwardly. Murtagh could feel Thorn’s amusement and he resisted the urge to march over to the dragon and kick him. ”I’d like to see you charm a woman,”</sup>

[/i] he spat at his companion, but he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded. Thorn obviously knew it, because he started to laugh and smoke billowed out of his nose.

As the villagers and soldiers shouted in fear at the sight of the smoke, Murtagh decided it truly was time to go. The rider motioned to the shade to follow him and headed back towards his dragon, glaring at people as they pointed and hollered. As the pair got closer to the dragon, Thorn bent low so that it would be easier for them to get onto his back. Murtagh couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, knowing that Thorn was making fun of him by trying to be as gentleman-like as possible. Murtagh turned to make sure Pele was behind him before he offered his hand to her. But it was as if he was invisible, and she pushed past him, awkwardly pulling herself up onto the dragon’s back.

The rider felt his cheeks go red and he pulled his hand back, roughly shoving the helmet back onto his head. It wasn’t the first time he had been rejected, but it was certainly the most embarrassing. Thorn’s amusement wasn’t helping either. The dragon continued to chuckle, smoke rolling out of his nose in billows now. Murtagh kicked the beast in the belly, but all that did was make the dragon laugh harder. With a grunt, the young man pulled himself up onto the saddle and strapped his legs in, not looking back to see if Pele had secured herself. She seemed capable enough.

’Now now, just because she’s not interested in you,’ Thorn teased as he opened his great wings to take off. Murtagh hissed under his breath at the dragon, but it was unheard as the beast’s wings flapped and caused the people to begin their shouting anew. Thus the most awkward trip of his life began. Though Pele had been opposed to his assistance before, it was obvious she was not as graceful as she was on the ground. Many times Murtagh found himself reaching behind to grab her arm to steady her, and every time he felt like he was violating something sacred. The rider would have offered for Pele to hang onto his waist, but one rejection was enough for the day. So instead, he sat waiting for her next slip, and every time he caught the sorceress before she began to slide off the saddle.

Finally, after about a half hour of the uncomfortable flight, Murtagh spotted the village of Melian. He breathed a deep sigh of relief and pointed it out to the shade, even though she had probably seen it already. Murtagh glanced backward, upset to see her sitting there so uneasily, looking as if she were freezing to death. He didn’t say anything though, and turned back around, patting Thorn’s neck, urging him to land quickly. The sooner they reached the earth, the rider figured, the more at ease both Pele and he would feel.[/sup][/center]

[.::Thorn::.]

It was cold again, and to make matters worse the armor he wore to protect himself from attacks was making it even colder. It made Thorn twitch slightly whenever the icy steel plates touched his underbelly. He thought of blowing fire onto the plates, and he would have too. Had it not been for Murtagh on his back. The black armor he wore was heavy. But Murtagh and the smith that made it thought that the black with gold trim made him look more fierce. Not that he needed help looking any more threatening then he was already. At least He didn't have to wear the plate that fit over his head, as he found that to be the most uncomfortable part of the armor.

In the back of his mind he could hear Murtagh chattering about the Shade that they were going to be working with. Thorn rolled his eyes. He didn't cherish the thought of having a Shade sitting on his back so close to his Rider. To say the very least he didn't trust them. He saw the town approaching and he began his descent into the town of Feinster. As he came to the ground he spotted the Shade. He banked sharply and flew over her head and came to the ground in a cloud of dust and debris spraying everywhere. He growled at the pesants that surrounded them causing most to back away in fear while his Rider dismounted from his saddle.

After much useless banter with his Rider a thought entered his mind. "I'd like to see you charm a woman" He Rider spoke with great confidence in his statement. To which Thorn simply replied. "I'd like to see you court a dragoness" He growled, amused with himself. As Murtagh and the Shade approached him he knelt slightly so it would be easier for the woman to get into the saddle. As they did he snorted with amusement at his Riders red face. He took to the air and began flying to the village of Melian. When he came into sight of the small collection of buildings he flew low to the tree line to preserve the element of suprise. As not much is more frighting then an armored beast and his Rider.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

Truly, the Rider was making a complete fool out of himself. I didn’t even bother to try and hide my obvious distaste for his slack-jawed gaping. Blushing and stuttering and gawking like a schoolboy. I sighed deeply. Humans might have been a powerful race if not for their enormous desires. They had persistence, self-determination, a strong sense of survival, but they were too controlled by their petty wants and needs.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Pele Lahela Serowë,” Murtagh finally said, dropping into a low bow. Too low, in my opinion. “I’ve heard many great things and I see none were an exaggeration.” Oh, the overly worshipful type. This day just kept getting worse. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. If so, I’m terribly sorry.”

He became quite nervous, which was obvious by the redundant shuffling of his feet and the fact that his face was the same colour as his dragon. He was grinning what he probably thought was a very charming smile, which was not returned. I wanted to scold him for being so ridiculous, but I didn’t want to make our relationship more strained than it already was. Besides, Thorn might not take it too well. The dragon was looking at me with obvious distrust, his crimson eyes glowing furiously whenever he turned his gaze on me. Something about me clearly bothered him. Maybe it was the fact that I was a Shade. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone was put off by my race.

An awkward silence persisted for several moments, only broken by Thorn’s heavy breathing and Murtagh’s foolish shuffling. I had decided not to speak unless it was necessary. Eventually, the Rider babbled, “So, are you ready to leave?

Again, I didn’t respond, but I did rearrange my skirts to avoid tripping over them as I approached the two of them. Despite my reluctance to sit so close to Murtagh and my fear of flying, the peasants were nervous. They were afraid of all three of us, and I knew only too well that fear led to hatred, and eventually, violence. That had happened countless times in history. The Urgals were a prime example. It really was time for us to be leaving. Murtagh beckoned me to follow him as he went up to Thorn, and I happily hitched up my skirts and hurried after him. Thorn bent slightly as I approached, making his saddle a little easier to reach. Still, though, I was hesitant. Murtagh held out a hand to me, but I ignored it, determined to make it up there all on my own.

It was even harder than getting up onto a horse, and I was terrible at that, too. My foot flailed for purchase, and I kept embedding the sole into Thorn’s scales, but if he noticed, he didn’t complain about it. Eventually, I managed to step into the strap to sit side-saddle, and heaved myself up with no small amount of difficulty. I wasn’t quite as fit as I could be, but I simply didn’t have time these days for exercise. Besides, it was unladylike to sweat and pant and wave big swords around. So I didn’t complain. Luckily, Murtagh left me alone as he swung up into the saddle with ease, securing his straps. I copied him. Or, at least, I tried to. By the time Thorn began to flap his enormous wings I was completely tangled, and fear rose in my gut like bile. Eventually, I forsook the straps entirely and simply clung to the saddle with an iron grip, my knuckles completely white. The dragon leapt into the air, and I desperately fought off the primal urge to scream. But then as we rocketed into the sky so quickly that my heart leapt into my throat, I lost the ability to make any noise. Maybe I actually did scream as hard as I wanted to, but it was inaudible in the whooshing of the powerful winds. After a horrifying, terrifying eternity, although it could only have been a few minutes, we levelled off, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. I regained it with a few enormous gasps.

I was a creature of the earth. I’d always hated boats, and now I firmly decided that I hated flying too. Besides the fact that it was minus a thousand degrees up here, I kept slipping. My hands turned to ice, making me lose my grip on the saddle, and every so often I would begin to slide off. Murtagh caught me each time with a steady hand, his expression one of concern. I was too cold and too scared to speak, though, so I just kept my mouth firmly closed as we flew. It only took half an hour to get to Melian, time that usually flew by far too quickly for me when I was curled up by the fire in my Urû’baen manor with a nice book and some hot tea. In the air, it was the longest half hour of my life. I screwed my eyes shut, willing the endless seconds to pass by faster. I tried looking down, but when I saw just how high up we were my stomach did a massive back flip and I tore my gaze away. After this, I would never, never ever ride a dragon again.

But finally, much to my relief, Murtagh pointed to the ground after he saved me from falling off the saddle for the umpteenth time. I had to truly force myself to look down again. Small mud brick houses surrounding fields filled with toiling farmers the size of ants covered the ground, and farther south, there were larger buildings that indicated a town. We were at Melian! I could have hugged Murtagh, but I was still freezing. Thorn banked sharply, and my ears popped painfully at the increasing air pressure, making me wince. He spiralled downwards, carefully avoiding Melian and dropping into some thick woods near the town. He found a clearing and landed rather suddenly, and this time I did hug Murtagh, although only because I feared for my life. Luckily, the dragon’s feet seemed to absorb most of the shock, because my spine wasn’t jarred. I awkwardly unwound my arms from Murtagh, whose expression was a mixture of amazement and joy. Clearing my throat, I slid down from my side-saddle position, making a whoof sound when I hit the ground. Murtagh hopped down right after me, steadying me with a hand. I cleared my throat again.

“Well,” he said awkwardly. “Here we are. What information do we have?”

Ah, strategies. Something comforting and familiar. I reached into my purse, which was miraculously still hanging by its strap on my shoulder, and yanked out a couple of pages I’d ripped out of several inventories in the palace library. I rearranged the parchments, peering at them carefully and wishing I’d remembered to bring my reading glasses along.

“If this isn’t outdated, the village mayor is a Kayos Verresson, and he is being harried into making a decision whether to secede to Surda or not. According to spies, he was indecisive about it, but that was two weeks ago, that easily could have changed. He might not even be the mayor anymore. Although from how desperate these people are, if he is, and he decides to remain Imperial, then he might have a rebellion on his hands.” I glanced up from the papers, meeting Murtagh’s gaze. “Galbatorix has suggested a public demonstration, something to scare or awe these people into remaining Imperial citizens. I suggest we refrain from any violence. That would certainly rid us of the rebels, but that might spark the survivors and even other settlements into joining up with the Varden, and we would more than fail at our assigned task. Perhaps we could show Melian the Empire’s power, or show that Surda is weak and wouldn’t be able to handle more people. Or show that the Varden is really the enemy here, I’m not quite sure. Or maybe we could even make some kind of compromise. As long as they stop threatening to revolt, Galbatorix will be happy.” I tucked the sheaves of paper back into my purse. “For now, we should focus on finding Viktor Varnava, the reputed leader of the rebel faction. As you can tell by his name, he doesn’t hail from Melian, maybe not even from Alagaësia at all. If we can convince him to stay, we can most likely convince the others as well.” I looked from Murtagh to Thorn and back again. “Do either of you have any thoughts on how we should go about this?”

Words;; 1450
Muse;; Sleepy.
Thoughts;; It's alright... I am very, very tired. DX