[Imperia Graveyard and Cemetery] Girls will be Girls (Ar'ileth)

[Ilista]

Timestamp: 2nd Ponutis, Winter of Era XV

It was odd, well it felt odd, slightly. It had been a while since the girls had been alone, the few times of note had been when the women, slave and Mistress, first met, and when Ar’ileth had been sent on a task by her instructor. Yet as Ilista walked beside the tall Vysstichi and the pair walked the city streets, it was almost a companionable silence. There was, a surely odd affection, between the twins of Yelkith themselves, without including Ilista, but with the willing slave… well it just made a rather close, little family group.

Ilista was a slave in some sense, yet even in the den of darkness she had been cared for, given clothes, food, company, protection. She did not endure the squalor and depravity of the slave holding cells, had not been sent out into the servitude of the House, nor had she been beaten, tortured, or worse. Quiet frankly if anyone truly asked the telera her view of her place, quiet a few heads would turn, be scratched, and simply puzzled.

There was genuine fondness for Ar’ileth Yelkith, although the telera would not hesitate to admit to the dark one how the necromancer terrified her companion at times. Ar’ileth seemed taken in by Ilistas’ pictures, and her stories, and in turn Ilista was enchanted by the sweet, almost innocent expression and questions when the pair first met, and the kindness shown in one cruel darkening, and a most proactive form of possessive protectiveness in another.

So the pair walked the streets of their new home, acquainting themselves to the surface city by the sea. The sky was dreary promising rain at any moment, when there was…a keening sound, a sobbing. The pair had traveled just past the Government District, and had met a most curious sight, a massive expanse of wall that reached up high to the sky and seemed to be topped by jagged shards of glass and metal.

The telera was curious, were there people trapped on the other side of the wall, and was that why they despaired so? Ilista looked to the Matrons’ daughter in silent question but turned, the sobbing, crying sounds were not from behind the wall but a procession a street over a group of humans, well dressed, but in somber colors, walking through a heavy iron gate with a pale wooden box, a small group of women followed crying as they went along.

“Mistress Yelkith?” Ilistas’ soft voice floated to the sweet noblewomans’ ear, floating and melodic, the two words however calmly said were questioning and curious, Ilista had never seen a funeral procession and was curious to it, and oddly, wanted to follow.

[Ar'ileth Yelkith]

Naturally Ar'ileth had led the pair, in spite of the fact that she held to Ilista, holding to the telera's arm. They were exploring this city of sinners, these sun-kissed fools who knew nothing of what they truly were. It was almost amusing, how they clung to their everyday lives, and what little power that they had...Transitory, really, when they were destined to become nought more than slaves, stooping and bowing before their vysstichi lords.

Ar'ileth took them for fickle-minded, immature, and yet still they had their uses; sometimes, at best. Most could glean some use as tools, whilst others still held value in entertainment. The Yelkith twins enjoyed toying with these nigrivs, for a start, lulling them into false senses of security, one way and the next, before breaking them, completely, and nailing any pieces that remained upon their wall.

The procession of weeping humans piqued the young female's sense of curiosity, as it had done her beloved pet's. Crimson eyes scanned the crowd, resting upon each individual in turn, before finally coming to the matter of the pale wood box. Then, the dark princess smiled- a wicked thing birthed from iniquitous thoughts- leading the telera closer, alongside.

"They are very sad, to mourn so..." She observed, her soft voice lilting, drowned with whimsy in the dark.

"Let us go, sweet Ilista...Let us go and bring them cheer..." The young vysstichi smiled, the curve of her lips a sickle as she moved, with plans already diverging in her sickly, sweet mind.

[Dignitas]

A crackle of thunder torn the sky asunder from some place west of here, echoing loudly as it rippled away. A rather despairing place, the dark princess and her slave had come to none other then the Imperian Graveyard. The final resting place of so many there was no other sadder place within the whole city. Not mere era's, but centuries of sadness, anger, grief, and despair were captured here, brooding here, like a layered blanket atop this already bleak city. For the vysstichi necromancer Ar'ileth, she could almost taste the negative emotions of the funeral procession that covered the air as much as the same as the gray clouds above covered the sky.

A large group by Imperian standards, the twenty black clothed humans moved slowly, numbly past the gate of the cementary. The box didn't seem to be large, if anything maybe a bit smaller then an average human height would be. Four males of their race carried the box foward, heads down, very slowly. In fact, the whole group seemed to be moving very slowly. One of the ladies in the back of the procession was crying so loudly that she verged on screaming a few times, her emotions both raw and unrefined. Such a curious notion, that they dressed up so fanciful when the one they dressed for couldn't see any of it.

Now inside the cementary, the group continued along the small crack ridden stone pathway to the top of a large hill near the back. In the cementary keepers house, a small bell begun tolling. Hallowed and deep, the sound resonated througout the cementary. The procession stopped near by a newly dug grave, with a lowering device made of crude wood and pulleys that was to lower the coffin below ground. A priest of some kind was also aready there, with a book open and awaiting all to take their places around the grave. Again, the sky opened up and thunder to the west boomed loudly. Slowly the people filed around the grave, now most of the sobbing and crying openly. In a moment the priest would begin the curious ritual these humans seemed to have for thier dead.