A different shade of red (Laioni)

[xanathiel]

The capital of Surda was nothing too special in the eyes of the Shade. His eyes, dark red and brooding, stared out and paid witness to countless people who, by themselves, were insignificant. However, the magic in each of them gave them value. Magic was the only thing worthwhile. Everything else was temporary, and paled in comparison. Yet here, and all throughout Alagaesia, magic seemed to be dwindling. Xanathiel felt not only sorrow, but threatened at this turn of events. To save the world's magic, Galbatorix had to die. Saving lives was a secondary footnote.

Watching as the citizens hurried past to escape from the warm rain, the Shade shook his head and sighed, turning his attention back to the table at which he was sitting. Currently, he was in a quaint little inn located in the main part of the city. The establishment rarely saw customers, however, because the citizens in this part of the Empire had their own homes, more often than not. It was a rare sight for the inn owner to have any business to speak of, let alone a man that he suspected to be a Shade. Although he was terribly frightened of the possible-Shade-man, he rolled out the proverbial red carpet for him and had showed him every gracious gift he could possibly give, to earn more money and- possibly, more business. That is... if the man didn't kill him first...

Xanathiel looked down at the mug in his hands and narrowed his eyes at the amber liquid. He never drank alcohol, as a rule, but he had ordered some anyway just to make the innkeeper leave him alone for a bit. The human was frightened of him, he knew, but he wasn't the type of being to go throwing his weight around, especially when he was in territory with which he was unfamiliar. Being a rather old Shade, Xanathiel still hadn't bothered coming to Surda until he had joined the Varden, and had spent his years of service in Du Weldenvarden rather than wasting his skills elsewhere. He still remembered his pledge of loyalty to Ajihad. The human was a great man, and a great leader. He possessed a strength that so few humans did, that the Shade was impressed by the man's might. But Nasuada... She was different. Not bad, but different. He had pledged himself to her not so long ago, soon after her father's death.

Not that it changed much. The Varden was still, for the most part, distrustful of him. He didn't blame them. People often feared what they didn't understand, and as a practicioner of the darkest sort of magic, Xanathiel was already walking a very thin line. He had earned the respect of a few members during the Siege of Du Weldenvarden, but he was severely hindered in his ability to fight greater foes since he was supporting a huge number of the mortal footsoldiers. The human, Eragon, certainly hadn't needed his help.

Shadeslayer. The boy's new name. He had struck down Durza, a rather distasteful being and supporter of Galbatorix, or so it seemed.

"Good riddance," he muttered to himself, pushing the mug away from him. "Now there's just the matter of hatching the damned eggs and killing that fool king."

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

The city was dark today.

It couldn’t have been particularly late in the afternoon, but the rains had finally caught up with Surda’s dry climate. Heavy black clouds had rolled in, darkening the landscape, and the population acted like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had just ridden in. Clothing was wrapped in copious amounts around heads and bodies despite the uncomfortable warmth of the rain, and the petty humans scurried like ants to make it to their nests before- heaven forbid- they got wet. I myself was not fond of being completely sopping while in my clothes, but that was easily remedied by leaning casually against a shop wall, protected by the overhang of the balcony on the second floor. And it was entertaining to receive looks like I was the Whore of Babylon.

Granted, I hadn’t exactly dressed for a rainy day. I was all in black, complete with knee-high leather boots elevated by five-inch heels and a shiny leather skirt that barely covered my arse. My torso had nothing but a corset of the same material, while long gloves stretched past my elbows. I wore a simple necklace strung with wolf fangs and a large onyx stone that hung against my collarbone. My makeup was heavy, thick black kohl outlining my eyes and eyelids, while my lips were painted with a pigment that was somewhere between pink and red. My black hair hung loose around my shoulders, but I had carefully curled the ends as a little embellishment. I liked the overall turnout, as it suited the dark mood I had previously been in. However, the rain had notably cheered me up, that as well as getting to see the pathetic humans scurry and cower from it.

A flash of lightning jolted me out of my reverie, however, almost immediately followed by the roar of thunder. That meant the storm was very close. My powers did not lie in manipulating the elements, and I wasn’t keen on being blown away like a paper bag, or hit by lightning or drowned or some other unfortunate occurrence. I wasn’t about to die like some common mortal. It was probably best that I locate some shelter, then. I was a long way from my home in Silverwood Forest, however, so my only other choice was some tavern. If I just strolled into Borromeo Castle I’d be banished within five minutes. And so, keeping to the dryness beside the buildings, I moved off. Aberon did little to interest me, which meant that I rarely came here, which meant that I didn’t know my way around. When I asked for directions, I was known as an outsider and treated like one.

The only reason I’d even come here in the first place was to deliver my latest reports on several scouting missions I’d gone on in the past few days, as well as some I hadn’t done. The sudden coalition between the Varden and the Empire- which I’d been pleasantly surprised by being invited to- had kept me busy. I had delivered my reports to some bumbling fool near the Castle before the rains had started, after which, instead of returning home through the sludge and the mud, I’d instead decided to watch the petty mortals as they struggled through something so normal and natural. Now, the idea of having to spend time with some as well as sleep in a filthy tavern bed was most unappealing. I went into less populated areas- not quite rough places, but still sketchy at best- and searched for a telltale inn sign. I spotted one surprisingly quickly, a grungy old thing simply called The Cloak and Dagger. How original.

However, beggars could not be choosers, and so I rushed out into the pouring rain for a brief moment before escaping into the safety of the inn, opening the door with a rough clang. I stepped inside cautiously, letting the door swing closed behind me on its own. I was pleasantly surprised to find the inn almost entirely empty, except for one man nursing his mug of ale at the far end of the room. The barkeep, a highly nervous-looking man who couldn’t stop wiping his hands with a soiled cloth, jumped when I walked in. He blinked at me before shrieking, “Oh!” and scurrying around the bar, panting heavily as he raced towards me. He was overweight and clearly not well-versed in actions that required heavy exertion- like, running from one end of the room to the other- so I actually had to wait a bit for him to reach me, holding his arms out in welcome.

“’Ello, miss! Don’t get many elves in here.” He was sweating, far too much to only be due to the warmth. “What can I getcha?”
“Surdan wine. Aged and hand-crushed, none of that mass-produced swill you were no doubt planning on serving me,” I stated flatly.
“I see. Well, then, please take a seat anywhere, and I’ll get it to you shortly.”

He scurried off, and I took a step into the establishment. As soon as I did, though, I felt an incredibly heavy aura of magic press in on me, making me gasp softly. It was thick with darkness and the forbidden arts, and seemed to sing to me, a sound shriller than any music. I turned slowly, staring at the man hunched over at his table. His hair was bright crimson, and his hands were pale as snow. A Shade? In the Varden? And on top of that, a Shade sitting completely undisguised in some backwater tavern? Then the name hit me- Xanathiel. The infamous Varden Shade. He’d joined back when wizened old Brom was still leading this little pack of rebels, but was highly loyal to their cause. I didn’t know how to react. My mother had been a Shade. This at first made me nervous, but then ecstatic. No one knew more about forbidden magics than Shades. If I could observe him, maybe even approach him… my mind decided, I walked straight towards his table, gripping the empty seat across from him and pulling it out. I seated myself in it, a playful smirk curling my painted lips. I decided to start our conversation off with the most overused, vapid pick-up line I knew of.

“So,” I said smoothly, my Saxon accent adding a definitive sharpness to my words. “Do you come here often?”

Words;; 1070
Muse;; WEIRD. Laioni is new. XD
Thoughts;; Ehh, it's okay. But I finally posted, yay!!

[xanathiel]

Looking up from my mug, I planted my eyes on perhaps the sultriest woman I had ever seen. At first I thought I may have been hallucinating from the fumes in the air, imagining this woman as a part of my fancies and fleshly desires. But once she sat down at my table and opened those pretty little lips of hers, it became apparent that she was no hallucination. She was quite real.

Spirits, she had to say something odd, didn't she? Why couldn't the beautiful women just be content to be beautiful? I'd had enough of the faux-poets and so-called artists, especially the ones of a certain Rider persuasion... I narrowed my eyes and examined her more closely, trying to sort through the countless faces and names I had to find this one. At last, my memory proved a valuable asset once more, and I smirked.
"You're Laioni, right? The dark witch of the Varden?"

Still leaning forward, I looked her over for a moment and then returned my crimson eyes to hers.
"I've heard much about you. None of it very good, I'm afraid... But you seem to be fine so far."
I relaxed, leaning backwards slightly and putting my hand over the back of my chair as the waiter hurried forward to the table and brought her an odd drink, and then left especially quickly.

"What an odd little human, he is." I remarked. "But then, all life is odd in its own way... I hear that you're interested in... certain fields of magic. Dark magic. Forbidden, some call it. Is this so?"

I folded my hands in my lap and smirked, eyeing the woman before me with curiosity and apparent intrigue.
"Is it the forbidden aspect that lures you? That fruit which is prohibited and taboo... Often tastes all the sweeter for it."

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

Now that I managed to get a closer look at Xanathiel, I took his appearance in carefully. Shades had very unique facial features that weren’t what most would consider the classic beauty, but they certainly weren’t eye-bleeders either. And I rather preferred their unique looks- if they had the drop-dead gorgeous beauty of my kind I somehow doubted they’d be as widely feared. Such beauty was distracting. I, however, had put that distraction to good use many times. Once I memorized the Shade’s face, I looked over his expression. He appeared to be in a foul mood, clearly displayed by the look of utter irritation on his face. The urine-coloured swill served to him sat in the middle of the table, entirely untouched. Shades did not often partake in the carnal pleasures of mortals. I myself was not fond of them, although my elven nature often gave me certain urges. However, there was nothing wrong with enjoying a little wine every now and then. But just as those thoughts were running through my mind, the Shade looked up at me, his scarlet eyes widening as they took my appearance in. Ooh, so maybe he hadn’t quite relinquished all mortal passions. This would make my plan go far easier.

“You're Laioni, right?” he said after a long moment. “The dark witch of the Varden?”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised that he had heard of me. I was rarely spoken of, and rarely seen, and I preferred it that way. Though I often found myself desiring a variety of things such as power and revenge, I could never see myself as a public figure. Lurking in the catacombs of the ruins of Silverwood Forest was so much more enticing. Being among people was a prospect I found repulsive, and even a little bit frightening. But then, I reminded myself, Shades were the very epitome of black magic, and Xanathiel had specifically referred to me as the dark witch. It was no surprise, then, that he would want to know about any fellow practitioners of such arts within the Varden. He didn’t appear to be finished, so I simply continued to smile coolly as he leaned ever further in, so much that I could feel his moist breath tickle my lips.

“I’ve heard much about you. None of it very good, I’m afraid...” Our noses nearly touched. “But you seem to be fine so far.”

He moved away again, leaving me momentarily confused before I got the notion that he was playing the exact same game that I was. We were both very much intrigued by each other, and something told me that neither of us were the kind who were easily impressed. Were I anything else, except maybe a Shade, he likely would have brushed me off like a fly. And both of us waned to learn more about the other, something that we planned to achieve through darker means- seduction, deceit, the like of mind games. I also got the notion that this was a game I would deeply enjoy- it made watching petty mortals suffer through the trials of everyday life incredibly boring. For now, I decided to focus on the fact that I was on Xanathiel’s good side, and held his interest. I was going to see just how long and how far I could hold that interest, and to which end. I hardly noticed the bartender scurrying over, placing a goblet of blood-red wine before me, and running away again like the devil was at his very heels. I only glanced at it for a moment.

“What an odd little human, he is,” murmured Xanathiel in that deep, but oddly quiet tone of his. “But then, all life is odd in its own way... I hear that you’re interested in... certain fields of magic. Dark magic. Forbidden, some call it. Is this so?” His face came alight with a smirk that very much crawled onto his face. “Is it the forbidden aspect that lures you? That fruit which is prohibited and taboo... often tastes all the sweeter for it.”

Finally, a worthy opponent.

“Am I to assume that you consider my fruit so sweet?” I chuckled darkly, wrapping my fingers around my goblet. “Indeed, there is a certain… pleasure that accompanies such a terrifying craft. But this is well-known, and talk is little more than talk. Words are meaningless. They float on the air and dissipate like smoke. Surely you’ve heard more than mere rumours of this hated witch. I may, after all, be far less than I appear. Or a fraud.” I raised the goblet, which was almost full, and let the drink splash out of the cup with the movement. Tsking, I raised it a little higher and let my tongue slide over the uneven outer rim, deliberately licking it dry. I was unsure of just how clean it was, but the wine was surprisingly tasty, and it was worth getting Xanathiel’s attention. Setting the drink down again, I continued. “How can you be so certain that I am Laioni the Urgal-spawn, Laioni the Viper?”

Words;; 849
Muse;; Pretty good!
Thoughts;; -snort- I wonder if we should tag this as mature. XD

[xanathiel]

I chuckled at her words, noting with some satisfaction that verbal deceit alone could never fool me. Being so old and powerful has its drawbacks, certainly... Like attracting the moths of the Empire. However, there was always the flame with which to burn them all, and I took great pride and pleasure in setting the little moths ablaze. No, this was definitely the woman I had heard about through conspiratorial whispers and hushed conversations between guards and even lovers.

My eyes followed her every motion, especially when she spilled her drink. Her tongue darting out to catch the spilled wine stirred a notion within me that I had never chosen to sate with the weak women in the world. I loved power, and it was as tantalizingly erotic and alluring as the woman sitting before me. Certainly, she had her own beauty, with her dark hair, her fair skin, and her pouty lips, but the real delight was the power she wanted to wield. I know ambition. I know what it takes to get strength, and to hold it. This woman, this Laioni of the Varden... Was rumored to actually be the spawn of a Shade. I smirked at her actions and then nodded to her as she reiterated her belief that I could be mistaken as to her identity.

"You are Laioni. There is no need for me to demand any proof from you. I do not 'see' in the same sense as you mortal races do. I perceive, and I observe in color as the rest... But there is something more. Dark magic allows one to see to the very heart of things, to their core. I sense within you a miniscule drop of dark magic that you control, and this drop is the only proof I need. You are certainly the Dark Witch of the Varden, there is no dispute. And... yes, I imagine your fruit would be quite delectible. I'd very much like to sample yours soon, little peach."

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

Such an old creature was certainly my superior in many things, but not all. Perhaps after getting to know him a little better I might even call him master, and not just merely in the dark arts. His crimson eyes flared with something that was unmistakable in all men, immortal or no. Any fool could tell when a man liked what he saw, and though Xanathiel hid his emotions well, that brief flash told me everything I needed. Yes, I was far more beautiful than most- especially the humans of this Varden- weathered and browned and wrapped in rags- but it was rarely looks on their own that truly earned attention, especially when it came to men like this one. I satisfied his fleshly wants and needs, certainly, but it was the terrors within me that held his interest. I would have to be careful, then, if I didn’t want to lose it.

“You are Laioni. There is no need for me to demand any proof from you. I do not ‘see’ in the same sense as you mortal races do. I perceive, and I observe in colour as the rest... But there is something more. Dark magic allows one to see to the very heart of things, to their core. I sense within you a minuscule drop of dark magic that you control, and this drop is the only proof I need. You are certainly the Dark Witch of the Varden, there is no dispute. And... yes, I imagine your fruit would be quite delectable. I’d very much like to sample yours soon, little peach.”

I considered no man above me, and few, if any, were capable of inspiring me with any sort of desire. But the words that rolled out of the Shade’s mouth, especially the emphasis on those two little words, filled me with a sudden physical lust that nearly made me squeeze my thighs together. Not daring to lose my calm façade, I leaned back in my chair and settled against the rough wood, removing those thoughts of moist lips and hot breath and focussing on his words instead. Sensing dark magic in others was not an ability I had learned as of yet. I had only sensed Xanathiel because anyone could- a Shade’s power did not go unnoticed by even the least magically educated peasant.

And he wanted something from me, clearly. Certain bodily exertions were obviously on his mind, but he wanted to sample my magic, as well. Why else would he put so much emphasis on it? I was eager. No teacher was better than a Shade, and he likely wasn’t about to possess my body. I had no interest whatsoever in becoming a Shade myself. I was no fool- having nearly limitless power was not matched by an almost certain chance of death and losing yourself to a host of angry spirits. There were other ways to get that power, I was sure, but I would never unmask those secrets on my own. I needed someone who knew the ropes, someone as interested in me as I was in him.

“You embarrass me, Shade. Shall I blush rosy pink and titter like an aroused schoolgirl? But truly, it is an honour that my peach should so interest the likes of you. Is it the darker natures that surround it that hold you? Or are you more intrigued by the extent of this peach’s abilities?” I noticed he mostly stared at my lips and then my eyes, so I batted my lashes and let my tongue slide around the edges of my mouth, removing any wine stains. “Shall you squeeze me and enjoy me until you wring every last secret out of me, or will you tease me with little tastes until I give myself to you? No matter how forbidden, the fruit will call to you, torment you, and rule your dreams until you sink your teeth into it…” I raised my right arm and let the gloved back of my hand run down his cheek, my fingers brushing against his face for the briefest moment before I moved away again, “… and enjoy every last tantalizing bite.”

Words;; 696
Muse;; SEXY.
Thoughts;; God, I love this thread. XD