Facing Demons & Taking Chances (Faust pls)

[Faust D'Rinishad]

The dark elf forfeited a nod in response, finding both truth and accuracy in the woman’s assessment. She was stronger than most people, not only physically, but mentally as well. Whereas some allowed grievances to inhibit them from overcoming tribulations, Viskyia Crow would be stopped by nothing. Faust secretly admired her for her obstinacy, something that he personally lacked at times. Although he would have been hard pressed to admit it, some of the most insignificant challenges that he’d faced had nearly crippled him –in soul, at least. For as much as Viskyia believed herself capable of learning from the Prince of Har’oloth, he was discovering far more about himself from her. She was not the enigma that he’d previously perceived her to be. That had been an erroneous deduction. Her power derived from her inner strength and resolve, and he could see that now.

Time suspended momentarily before their spar renewed again. During that reprieve, though, Faust stared long and hard into the woman’s gaze, peculiarly seeing much of himself in her reflected stare. Her citrine eyes, perhaps the only of their kind, commanded his attention and stirred the fires in his heart. It wasn’t lust that wrestled him; it was something else, something that he could not accurately discern. Of course he could not deny his longing to caress her soft flesh, to run his hands through her snowy hair, and to feel her unrestrained warmth against his, but it was not only physical attraction that provoked his desire for her. The dark elf had loved someone a long time ago, a woman who’d ultimately betrayed him in the end, and for a long time he’d believed that his heart would forever be callous to the prospect of another romance. He’d abandoned the sentiment known as ‘love’ on that brightening. But the feelings were coming again. They were here –or rather, what he imagined they would feel like.

The dark elf’s obsidian visage, although normally steeled to deny opponents insight to his thoughts, betrayed him. A layer of deep consideration superimposed his features, and it was sprinkled with transparent bewilderment. Despite the countless battles that the Vysstichi Lord had participated in, none of them had yielded such an unorthodox reaction from him –even when the kiss of cold steel had rendered his flesh from bone. Viskyia had disarmed him like no man, woman, or demon had ever done before. It was a phenomenon that the dark elf could not explain, and his vulnerability was written across his regally dressed countenance. Only the brush of wind caused by the pair’s swirling movements removed him from his stupor.

Faust’s ebon fist found its mark, planting swiftly into Viskyia’s gut enough to draw the air from her lungs. The dark elf would have, no, he wanted to apologize, but his pure respect for her fighting abilities sealed his lips. To impart a word of pity would have been to insult Viskyia’s competency as a warrior, and she was far more deserving than that. She was every bit his equal and the Prince of Har’oloth was all too aware of the incompatibility of sympathy and recognition on the battlefield. And besides, had he paused to assess Viskyia’s condition, he surely would have chewed his tongue free from his mouth as the woman’s foot hooked around his legs. It wasn’t carelessness that had lured the dark elf into Viskyia’s ensnarement; it was her own masterful creativity and adaptability. At his current proximity to her, there was little hope for the dark elf to evade the woman’s foot which snaked around his ankles, and thus he did the next best thing: he braced himself to absorb the blow.

Bending at the knees, the Vysstichi Prince grimly accepted Viskyia’s crafty sweep, and his jaws clenched together as he fell backwards, tucking in his legs and using the momentum of his fall to roll away from her. He rebalanced himself on the balls of his feet in a crouch, an approving smile flashing across his lips. “I should have seen that one coming,” He said, chuckling faintly as one hand slipped down to massage his ankles. Long ago when he’d still been a traveling swordsman, he’d traversed through the Pegasi Woodlands of the Prime Province only to be waylaid by an elfin princess and her magically animated father. The latter, one Khalonderial ap’Tindomeral, had, to the dark elf’s utter astonishment, led with a sweep and not his long sword, an atypical assault that had resulted in the Vysstichi’s defeat. It had been a humbling time and the dark elf had thought that he’d never fall prey to such a ploy again, but apparently that wasn’t to be the case. Khalonderial had used his sword feint to disguise the sweep. Viskyia had used her athleticism. Apparently this was a lesson that the Vysstichi Prince still needed to learn.

When their duel finally ended after a few more bouts, the dark elf found a number of bruises springing along the surface of his skin. He frowned whenever he uncovered one, but his grimace was laced with notable amusement. “Who is to say who the better fighter is? You were not coming at me at full strength,” He countered, grinning to Viskyia as he advanced towards her, one of his hands stroking her side gently as he adopted a concerned countenance. He hoped that his punch hadn’t been too severe. “We should rest. Besides, as my teacher used to say, there is nothing that heals wounds greater than good food, and I promise you that that’s exactly what we’ll be having once we clean ourselves up.” As if to emphasize his point, the dark elf frowned and wiped some dirt that had smudged his elbow when he’d fallen to the ground during their fight.

When Viskyia spoke, though, Faust blinked and turned a startled gaze upon her. His face warmed considerably. “Then it is good that we have the rest of the evening and tomorrow morning to indulge in one another’s company,” He honestly said, smiling genuinely as he touched the low of her back to guide her to the doorway. “And you are right, of course. For both of our sake’s, it is better that we end our duel. I wouldn’t be as worried about you breaking your neck as I would be your accidentally breaking mine.” It was a friendly compliment, one designed to convey to Viskyia that he more than acknowledged her combative abilities. He acknowledged her strength as a person. He acknowledged her as an equal.

Faust did not miss the connotations of Viskyia’s request to bathe, but he found himself choking on his next words. His flesh screamed out to him, but the gentleman that was the Lord of House D’Rinishad admonished him for entertaining such temptations. He wondered, for a moment, if he was reading her wrong, in which case he would be making an utter fool of himself. She’d only known him for a short while, after all, and no matter how profound an interest he’d developed for her over such a small period of time, there was no way of telling if she reciprocate his feelings. Plagued by this internal debate, the dark elf cleared his throat and re-appareled himself just as Viskyia finished collecting her belongings.

“A hot bathe does sound nice, and I’ve some ointment for your bruises if you’d like afterwards,” He said, slowly exhaling and waiting for Viskyia to join him at the doorway. When she did, he would lead her down the hallway and back towards the main hall of the mansion. Not surprisingly, because the dark elf was so unfamiliar with the building, he needed to start from the entrance every time he wanted to go somewhere. Subsequently, he frowned in embarrassment as he and Viskyia reached the bottom of the stairs again from the rightward hallway, only for him to lead her back up the stairway to the second level where the master bedroom and the adjacent guest rooms were situated. He’d never been in any of them before, and thus when they returned to the upstairs junction he paused.

“I’m sorry. I thought you might want the scenic route,” He lied, obviously joking. Chuckling to sublimate his humiliation, the dark elf gestured for Viskyia to follow him as he pushed into the master bedroom. There were windows on the left side of the room, though like most of the windows in the mansion they were covered by velvet drapes that denied the sunlight any entry. There was a large bed situated against the back wall, the head of a massive elk mounted over it. Faust tilted his head and stared at the makeshift trophy for a second or two before shaking away the image and stepping to the right wall where there was a large armoire and beside it another doorway. “Here it is…” He said, opening the door wide enough for both of them to step through.

The bathing room was, not surprisingly, dreary like the rest of the mansion. A square-sized tub was built into the floor with a polished black marble finish, and there were steps descending into it to prevent occupants from having to leap into the water. To the right of the bathtub was a thin black screen standing high enough for people to change behind with some privacy. Turning back to Viskyia, he held his arms out to his sides as he gestured to the room. “I hope this will suffice. There are clean robes and towels behind the screen. You can change behind it if you’d like.” Smiling faintly, the dark elf approached the water’s edge, kneeling down beside. Whether or not Viskyia chose to comply, the Vysstichi Prince casually entered Clara, summoning forth a small Elemental Orb of fire and channeling it into the water. He slipped one of his hands into the pool then, feeling for the heat and waiting for it to rise to a comfortable temperature before dispelling the orb.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia looked thoughtfully at Faust, then grinned suddenly as if a thought had struck her out of the blue. "You're dark skin has me at a disadvantage. I was hoping to get an accurate bruise count so one of us had bragging rights." She said with a gentle laugh after she helped him with moving the furniture back in place. She picked up her bag and the pile of weapons she'd left near it. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she joined him for their search for a bathing chamber. "Ointment is definitely a good idea." She felt good, despite the bruises and being slightly winded.... her body was warm, functioning well, and a good spar always left her spirits high and her energy levels up. Coupled with the promise of good food and a warm soak, there was no hope of a change in her good humor.

The .... search ... if one could call it that, brought her a sudden acute case of mirth. She coughed a few times into her hand, covering her laughter at him until she could finally not hold her thoughts in further. "You know, being of the social status you are, I might have a slight recommendation for you." The jeweler said, her eyes absolutely serious though they did sparkle with the light hearted mood that had settled upon her. "A cartographer on staff for the mansion to assist your navigation during visits might be a sound investment." She grinned suddenly, flashing delicate white teeth before pale lips concealed them once more. It was a jab at him, for certain, but one that lacked maliciousness. The half-elf was decidedly laughing at him as she trailed along beside him. Viskyia wasn't a tall woman, not for any far stretch, and as she walked beside him she had to lengthen her stride, though it was no difficulty for her. Up the stairs they went, back down, and finally back up again. She grinned the whole time, eyes dancing, withholding further comments deciding he needed no words to clue him into her thoughts. Faust was... hopelessly lost in his own home.

When they discovered the Master Bedroom, Viskyia looked around curiously. No one lived here. It was obvious from the sterile feel of the room. She too paused a moment to stare up at the elk. There was something... slightly offensive about it. Not for the first time she wondered about the original owner of the estate. "It's a grisly thing to hang over where one should only find peaceful rest. It's a pity such as that doesn't still roam a forest somewhere." The half-esh said softly. Her mood didn't dampen, but her feelings on the issue were clear. "It's one thing to hunt life to sustain life, but I don't think that honors the life the animal gave. I will never truly understand such trophies." She said thoughtfully, and followed him further into the chamber to discover the bath.

She surveyed the room they had discovered together and nodded. "It's actually lovely, for all that the place feels like no one lives here." The half-esh said as she slipped behind the screen. Her own house in Nexus was small, cluttered, and filled with the signs of her life. Everywhere within it, touches of Viskyia lingered. It had none of the rambling hollowness the Manor had, which was sad in so many ways. The old building was all but an abandoned corpse, picked clean and now only filled with a sprinkling of life who's exclusive job was to make sure it died no further.

She stowed her bag, removed her clothing and slipped on a robe of black silk. Everything was black, and she wondered suddenly if the previous owner had any sense of color. The robe trailed the ground and the sleeves were much too long. A man's... found in triplicate. Then she pulled towels out of the lined linen closet behind the screen and found candles tucked within it. A firewick was there too, and she smiled. More supplies on higher shelves contained soaps, scented oils, and special delicate rinses for both their hair. She soon had a basket filled with accessories and exotic products before she exited. She'd taken a bit of time with it, and had missed Faust's casting. It was a good thing, because magic often spooked her and her current mood was much too lighthearted.

Bathing for Viskyia was an art. She often visited the bathhouse at Nexus, and more often than naught her and Nydardomond shared one along with drinks and good converstation. Thats how she'd first met Zokia... in the bathhouse of Nexus... so the half-esh showed no signs of embarrassment as she got the room ready for them. Faust had taken care of the water, though it gave her pause a moment in trying to figure out how he'd done it. She peered into the depths expecting hot rocks or some other means, but found nothing. Servants.... she decided as she pulled the drapes to darken the room. Then she moved about it, setting up the candles in their brackets and lightning them. It was not a seduction scene, no, not truly. Rather it was an attempt to establish a relaxing atmosphere. She laced the water with scented oil, and laid out their supplies, pleased there were sea sponges and numerous other accessories for the sheer pleasure of pampering ones self.

If he gave it a thought, any thought at all, he'd realize by her calm action and the way she systematically laid out the bath that she was trained as a body servant. The bare flesh wouldn't even give her pause, nor would the intimacy of the bath. To her, it was a necessity and a pleasure shared with a friend.

He'd find things ready when he finally came out from behind the screen. The room would be dark and bathed in candle light with the scent of jasmine rising from the water carried by the steam. Viskyia had no way of knowing if the Vysstichi Prince normally bathed alone or with servants, so she was momentarily torn. Instinct and training told her to move behind him and gently relieve him of his robe, thus offering him privacy to slip into the tub while she turned to hang up his robe. But ... no... here she was no servant. Here, he'd treated her with a level of respect reserved for an equal, so she'd bathe with him as one. Slim hands found the loops on her belt and freed them slipping it from her shoulders. As she did so, she spoke. "You know, I've been wondering... and I'm going to ask you again. If you don't live here... and the academy has no true apartment... where do you actually live?" The robe puddled to the floor and pale toes slipped into the water, testing it. "Perfect" She declared and slowly slipped into the water. She made no attempt to cover her form. In her mind, he'd seen it all already through their spar. When the half-esh scooted over for him and settled into a nook in the bath, she leaned back and sighed. Keeping her eyes politely on his, she smiled gently and awaited his answer. The half-esh was decidedly at home in the situation, and all but broadcast a gentle and calm welcome through her body language and soft languid eyes.

[Faust D'Rinishad]

“I suppose that you could classify me as one giant bruise then,” Faust jested, flashing a lighthearted, self-deprecating grin. “In which case, you would win.” Laughing good-humoredly, the dark elf led Viskyia through the passageways on route to the bathing room. Although embarrassed by his lack of navigational ability, he appreciated the woman’s patience. Home was a loosely defined word in the Prince’s vocabulary. He found himself staying at the Academy more than he did at the lucrative D’Rinishad facilities, a fact that properly revealed his simplistic nature. Despite being of noble birth, the dark elf had never spoiled himself. Of course, a part of the reason for this stemmed from the fact that he’d been hunted for centuries by his extended family. Perhaps the habit had stayed with him.

“I doubt a cartographer would help much,” He replied later, holding the door open for Viskyia. “His services would go to waste.” Matching the half-Esh’lahier’s grin with his own, the dark elf trailed inside behind her. He immediately detected Viskyia’s change in demeanor as she laid eyes upon the elk, a scene that seared into the dark elf’s consciousness. Watching her carefully, it wasn’t long before he surmised the cause for her sudden distaste, and to be honest, it surprised him. Being a ranger of minor regard himself, the Prince of Har’oloth harbored no fondness for needless killing, especially when it included mounting an animal’s head on the wall like some golden trophy to be won in the coliseum. He’d slain his share of beasts, yes, but never to display it on a mantle for commendation.

He touched her gently on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Viskyia. Believe me when I say that the animal’s life was no taken by me. The um, mansion’s previous owner had a penchant for hunting game. But while I do not agree with it, I’ve found it difficult to change things here for some reason.” He shrugged equivocally, not bothering to elaborate any further on the matter. The place practically reeked of the vile nosferatu, Vincent, former lord of the estate, and although Vincent was long dead, slain by Faust’s own hand, the mansion was a firm reminder to Faust of what became of those who sold their souls to power and avarice. That was the reason he seldom care here. And it was also the reason why the place seemed untouched by usage.

“Thank you. But the reason it feels like no one lives here is because no one, in fact, lives here,” Smiling at the jumble of words, the dark elf folded his hands behind his back, whistling to himself to lend Viskyia some idea of his distance. He hardly knew her, and many women were oftentimes more shy than they revealed. For the sake of maintaining his standard level of genteelness, he politely maneuvered to the doorway, his orbs naturally fixing upon the elk head to provide Viskyia her privacy. “Again, you are free to come here as often as you like. It’s nice being able to talk to someone, to share a meal with even though we haven’t already. Heh. Believe it or not, but a household full of servants can be lonely at times, especially for the servants themselves.” Staring off distantly, the dark elf kept the meaning of his words to himself. It was true that he was the lord of the manor, but in many ways he was as alone as the homeless orphan –always on the move but never really at home.

The sound of arranging objects caused the dark elf to pause in contemplation, and he realized seconds later from the discernible heat that she’d positioned candles throughout the pool. Inhaling deeply, Faust reveled in the hint of jasmine emitted by the burning flames, smiling in relief as Viskyia submerged in the water. He was not shy, not by any means, but it had been a long time since he’d participated in such an intimate setting –even if unintentionally so. With the woman’s features concealed by the steaming water, the Prince of Har’oloth discarded his robe, folding it into an immaculate square and setting it beside the pool’s edge. His ebony physique, polished by his glistening sweat, was again accentuated by the glimmer of his flowing silver locks.

“Where don’t I live is the bigger question,” He honestly answered, breathing out heavily as he slowly acclimated to the heat of the pool. Settling against the wall of the tub, the dark elf spread his arms apart, resting his hands on the edge of the bordering groundwork. He assumed a pensive expression, wondering how to accurately reply to her question without seeming like a complete fool. Faust was an enigma, in many ways, and only his lifestyle could render an absolute understanding for Viskyia. Of course, as she could not witness the busyness of his life, it was somewhat difficult for him to organize a response into words. “I have homes throughout the Empire. I have lived in Imperia, Nexus Prime, Candaceburg, Riparia, Paxia, and Primus Gaudeo, and in some of these places longer than others.”

He paused briefly, settling his crimson stare upon her. Unlike others whom Viskyia may or may not have had the experience with, the dark elf’s gaze remained leveled and unwavering. He respected her, more so than he did most people, and subsequently he gifted her with the deference that she deserved. She had, out of obligation or not, invited him to bathe with her, and he would not defile that invitation by welcoming himself to a temptation that opposed the essence of being a gentleman. “And then, for the greater part of my brightenings, I choose to live here in Vortex. The Academy is not the most suitable place to live, but I like it there. Coming from the streets myself, it’s hard to forget my roots.”

Smiling faintly, the dark elf bit his lip, caught in an internal debate about whether or not to explain himself further. It didn’t take long for him to decide, though. Viskyia wasn’t judgmental. “You know, I think that before I can answer that question fully, I must honestly tell you that you and I do not come from very different backgrounds. You see, my mother was the Matron of House Kitrye’veresi, the most powerful clan in Har’oloth. She was murdered by my Aunt many patterns ago. Being one of the only survivors of that massacre, my Aunt hunted me down for years. I survived for a long time on the streets of Vortex, and then I finally grew up…” Averting his gaze to the surface of the waters, the dark elf sighed, “My Aunt is dead, and my cousin, her daughter, is now the Matron of House Kitrye’veresi. Ever since her ascension, I have worked tirelessly to help her return House Kitrye’veresi to what it was before my Aunt murdered my mother. Because of that, Har’oloth has become my home, and yet at the same time, it is far from it and it will never be.” Shrugging slightly, the dark elf braved a glance at Viskyia, wondering if she understood –or even the implications of his confession. Whereas Kedrinus was the thorn of Viskyia’s past, Faust’s aunt had assumed an identical role as well.

In any case, he hoped that his testimony would help to elucidate why he was the way that he was –to some extent.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia simply smiled when he commented that he was one giant bruise, and nodded when he said he didn't kill the animal. She'd guessed as much, though hunting didn't bother her in the least. Trophies did. She even gave him a dubious look as he rejected her idea of the cartographer. It was all in good humor though, leaving her in a mild relaxed mood for the bath. One thing was for certain, you could tell a lot about a person just taking a bath with them. In Nexus, bathing was a social event and the public baths were often busy. She didn't mind though... her little house had no facilities. Being a runner, it was on her way and she took advantage daily. This was by far the better option, and allowed her a chance to get to know Faust a bit better.

He was far more complex than she'd initially assumed, that much was certain to Viskyia as she leaned back letting the water soak at her bruised form. The oils stung at her scrapes as at the same time the heat did wonders for her muscles. Before long it was clear, absolutely clear, that her assumptions about Faust where somewhat misguided. Rich, spoiled, growing up in comfort and security; she often assumed these things about people in his position. It surprised her that this wasn't the case. Instead, he traveled extensively, and she thought about this a while as she listened to his voice.

It was a good voice... soothing, gentle, forthright.

The half-esh was probably a fool, no... she decidedly was... but in that warm relaxing moment, Viskyia sudden felt connected to him. It was a hard feeling to describe, but the sensation that she simply knew him struck her. No, she didn't know anything about him really, but there was some sort of acknowledgment within her, a recognition that he was what he was and that what he was indeed was something familiar. She enjoyed the sensation, leaning back and listening to him speak. Under the water, she drew a knee up an wrapped her arms around it, wanting the water to soak her sore shoulder. Having a decided lack of height had its advantages in hot water, and she took full use of it as she listened.

Viskyia was a good listener. She had the distinct impression that Faust didn't often talk about his own life. So she kept quiet, wanting him to feel free to do so. When he confessed he had homes throughout the Empire, she nodded, knowing full well some people traveled and rarely settled down, preferring their landscapes and social surroundings to change drastically sometimes overnight. Truthfully it wasn't something she could understand, but she respected the difference. "So Vortex, out of all of them, is indeed your favorite place? Because its close to your roots?" She wondered why so many people were drawn here. The city was enormous, and in itself an enigma because it had such a cultural mix. Relationships existed here between races that could not function properly anywhere else.

Her thoughts turned. It must be difficult not being grounded, or having firm roots in just one location. The half-esh was a lot like that but it wasn't by choice. It was because she had to be able to run on an instance's notice and couldn't afford to attach herself to one place really. Before, she'd been considered a child... in many ways she still was, growing slowly and learning hard lessons one after another after another. Being raised on an estate, never leaving it, never going outside.... had taken a toll, rendering her ignorant to a lot of things in life. Faust's style of living was one of those ignorances. So she listened, intrigued.... until he shocked her most of all.

When he spoke of his House, and his aunt murdering his mother, a pale hand reached out beneath the waters and captured his dark one, only for an instant... a touch, squeeze, and a release. It was a brief show of sympathy, gone before he could even decide if it had happened. "I had no idea." She said softly, eyes wide. Viskyia knew something about the streets of Vortex. They were brutally mean, and that Faust had survived was a miracle in itself. The Jeweler said as much. "Its... a small miracle you're even here today, Faust. I can't believe how lucky you are to even have made it this far having been on the streets here. Vortex... is one of the hardest harshest places on Telath for someone with no connections, no support structure, and certainly no House to back them. I... I'd wondered why you were so understanding... so... well it makes more sense." The half-esh was stupid about a lot of things in life, but she knew that for certain, but in this she was sure.

"You must have gotten along with your cousin far better than her mother. I'm glad you've reunited with them, because it sounds like she needs your help. Thats the funny thing about life. We can't change the past, not ever, we can only strive to improve the future." The fact that Faust's aunt was dead lead Viskyia to more questions. "Did she fall to foul play? I've heard rumors of the House wars, and the women without Vysstichi Houses being somewhat ... ruthless in their power plays." She had heard rumors of all of this, though the stories she'd be privy too had been brutal twisted tales, not something she thought possible in reality. One never knew though....

It made her own problems seem slightly petty, she realized suddenly. She was an escaped slave, not someone cast forcefully from her House, homeless, cut off from all she knew. In many ways, Faust's situation had been far worse than her own. At least in her case, she'd made a choice. He'd had no choice at all.

Such things bred strength and character. It made so much more sense now.

"I see what you mean." The half-esh said gently, when he spoke of Har'oloth being his home and yet never being a true home. Outcast, fighting his way back in and carving out a place... but the mental scars of exile would always be there. "I firmly believe home is within. It's the only solid place you can always count on." She wondered suddenly if that was his reasoning for having so many homes. Citrine eyes met crimson ones as she tilted her head and looked thoughtfully at him. It seemed protective somehow as she softly said the next thing that came to her mind. Truth be told, it slipped forth before she could stop it. "It seems to me that a man who has lived in Vortex, Imperia, Nexus Prime, Candaceburg, Riparia, Paxia, and Primus Gaudeo will be forever protected from loosing the only home he's ever known. There's always another one waiting, another place to go... and if you live so many places, its hard to let one effect you and get under your skin. If war takes a place, even disease, or other sorts of strife, a body is forever protected from such losses." She was definitely overstepping bounds, and she realized it the moment the words tumbled out.

[Faust D'Rinishad]

“Vortex has been good to me,” the Vysstichi honestly answered. “My teacher, a half-elf named Jhael, took me in a few years after my clan’s descent. Along with his daughter, Adria, Jhael taught me most of what I know today.” A thin smile formed across the dark elf’s face. He remembered those brightenings well, back when he and Adria had become rivals in vying for Jhael’s attention. And surprisingly, the half-elf had chosen Faust as his successor, a decision that had, peculiarly enough, not upset Adria. Ever since that time, he and Adria had become good friends. She’d taught him the value of giving people chances regardless of the color of their skin.

Resting his arms along the tub’s adjacent walls, the dark elf slouched in the water. “So yes, it is close to my roots, though not in the way that most people envision another’s ‘roots’. It took me a long time to assimilate back into my clan.” Chuckling at the thought, the Prince of Har’oloth fixed his attention firmly upon the woman as she continued to inquire more about him. Her questions were genuine enough –even if a tidbit personal. He seldom enjoyed disclosing such intimate details about his life, but there was something about the candidness of their conversation that dispelled any of his previous reservations.

Or maybe it was her touch. Pausing instinctively as her fingers brushed against his, the Vysstichi nodded solemnly. He was internally conflicted about whether or not he should be truthful about his forthcoming answer, particularly as it wouldn’t paint him in the greatest light –at least, not in the half-Esh’lahier’s eyes. Nevertheless, she’d opened up to him immensely, and the tenderness of her tone deserved an honest response. “For a time, Viskyia. I’m afraid that in Har’oloth, power changes as quickly as currency in a marketplace. My cousin rules now, but who knows, in the following cycles her name may become nothing more than a memory. And such was the fate of my aunt…” He equivocally said, daring to meet Viskyia’s citrine gaze as he uneasily organized his thoughts.

“My aunt fell to my own hands,” Faust finally admitted. His obsidian visage, normally wrought of gentleness, suddenly adopted a dour quality to it. “The House wars that you heard of never end. They self-perpetuate. They are driven by a continuous cycle of murder and revenge. I am not proud to have taken her life, but it was a necessary action. In this world, as you know, there are only so many places for one to run –and there are far too many corners to get trapped in.” Sighing deeply and lowering his gaze to the tub’s surface waters, the dark elf shrugged.

Although he feared Viskyia’s judgment, he knew that he was not undeserving of it either. He lived a difficult, double-sided life, one that not only forced him to become the bane of evil, but also to work for the greater good of those who needed his help. Sometimes it was a challenging task to differentiate between the blur of circumstances, but the Prince of Har’oloth accepted that it was impossible to please everyone. One man’s enemy was another man’s friend. It would always be like that.

Viskyia’s wisdom pervaded the conversation again as she spoke of ‘home’ originating in one’s heart. It was an optimistic outlook, and to some extent it did explain the dark elf’s peculiar concept of it. As he considered his life in the soothing pool, he realized that his friend’s words, in many ways, described his mentality perfectly –only he’d never been able to articulate it as precisely. “Or perhaps he has never found his home,” the dark elf countered with a smug smile. “I have been to many places, seen many things, and experienced the uncanny, but I have never found myself staying at one location for very long. But you are right. I think that a part of me is scared to recognize a single place as home. Life is too ephemeral, too fleeting. And you said it perfectly, a tangible home is subject to the conditions that surround it, but the home of the self is everlasting.”

Nodding tersely to commend Viskyia’s insight, the Vysstichi bit down on his lower lip for a short moment. There was a question that had been bugging him all brightening, but he was hesitant to ask it. He’d come clean in revealing that he’d slain his aunt, Alaret Kitrye’veresi. He’d done what he’d had to do for his family’s sake and for his own. He wondered, though, what Viskyia was prepared to do the following brightening. Would she trust in herself to stand up to the tyrant that was Kedrinus the Necromancer? She had every weapon that she needed, but he wondered if she had the will to use them.

He had to know.

“Viskyia, I truly do hope that you understand why I did what I did…” He said slowly, purposely alluding to his earlier confession about his involvement with his aunt’s demise. “And I apologize if I am overstepping my boundaries, but there is something that I earnestly wish to know before we endeavor to the Esh’lahier’s estate tomorrow…” Waiting curiously for her attention, he offered a consoling nod.

“What will you do when we face him tomorrow? This man has beaten you, taken advantage of you, and robbed you of things that no person should ever be robbed of. What are you prepared to do? And are you willing to go the full distance in doing it?” Therein were the questions that described the Prince’s thought processes. Actions spoke louder than words, and Viskyia would have a choice to make on the morrow: would she fight, would she flee, or would she freeze? Faust made it clear that he would help her along the way and that he would stand beside her as she faced the phantom of her past, but it was ultimately Viskyia’s decision how to proceed from there.

What would her decision be?

[Viskyia Crow]

She listened silently throughout Faust's quiet explanation of his House's dynamics and his role in them. As always, Viskyia was a listener, and she tried to hear the whole of the truth always before she cast judgment on anyone or anything. With the man speaking before her, there was no difference. She heard the whole of what he said before coming to a conclusion. There were factors in his life and in his environment that made his actions necessary. That much she could understand. To Viskyia's thinking, Alaret Kitrye’veresi's death was on the woman's own hands. If she hadn't merited killing, she wouldn't have been. Though the half-esh didn't know Faust well, her gut instinct told her that much was true.

His lifestyle though, so much like Kedrinus' though driven by the females of the House rather than the males, saddened her. Blood. Death. Intrigue. Politics. A subtle warring of power back and forth. Men in his society were tools more often than naught. If they didn't grow strong, they were simply cast aside for others who would. As she ducked her head back, wet her hair, and then proceeded to gently cleanse it, she understood one blatant truth. The odds that Faust would ever know peace in his life were perhaps so slim that they could not exist. And the reasoning for it was just as simple as the circumstances of his birth and the ebony hue of his skin. He'd had two choices, that much was clear. The first road was that of a follower, blindly letting those in authority control him and dictate his life. The other road was the one he'd taken, strengthening his mind and body, choosing his side, and buoying it up to make it stronger so he'd have freedoms within that choice that allowed for his own personal growth. That might explain why he was a prince now.

Her mind wandered on, thoughts coiling around each other. The one truth was, in the end, that she simply couldn't understand all of it. He'd given her a glimpse, a thorough one at that, and one she appreciated. Her words followed through with her thoughts. "In the end, I don't think someone who's not a Vysstichi can truly understand what you go through, and what you continue to go through. That includes any of your people, for that matter, not just yourself. Female dominated societies are strange things to most of us surface races. I can hear what you say, and understand your meaning... but its like slavery, Faust. You cannot know what it is until you've experienced it. There's a whole different view on the inside. I think, in the end, because you've embraced your heritage and supported who you did, you were stronger for it, regardless what you had to do in the name of that support. You had very good reasons for opposing your Aunt, and in the end killing her. I can only admire that you had the nerve to do what you had to do and move past it. Doubly so, perhaps, because what you did put yet another female into leadership and not yourself. Some would call that a bit self-less." The half-esh admitted. Then she took a deep breath, shrugged a little, and gestured. As she spoke she finished her hair and was free to move on to cleansing her skin.

The converstation flowed after that, perhaps more thoroughly, perhaps less strained. For it seemed to open Faust up to speak more of himself. "I sincerely hope that someday you do find a reason and a need to settle more thoroughly. There's something to be said about belonging to one place, to one group, to be an integral part of something bigger. It's something I've never had, but something I've longed for all my life. I want to somehow, somewhere be able to say 'This ... all this... is mine.' And not because I own it, but rather because I've made something mine through the blood and sweat of my own labors. It's too much to hope that a feeling like that will ever come with a family or love, but I think its possible and probable that I'll be able to have that sense of self about some place in the near future. It's just hard sometimes, knowing that someone could come and take it all away at any time. All Kedrinus would have to hear was that there was a yellow-eyed jeweler somewhere, and he'd know. I'm not sure I can do any of that in Nexus, even with the Nexus Gem and Jewelry Shop... it's more Titus Crows than it will ever be mine. Sometimes I'm haunting the shadows of his life, picking up his pieces because he gave me permission to be there, to do so... but Nexus... its a tough place to live, and they are already making threats to prevent my rise in the guilds." Viskyia took a breath, looked worried for a moment though she didn't give Faust the impression she was worried about the guilds. The impression she gave was that she was worried about change. Her next words backed those thoughts.

"It's humbling to realize you stand at a crossroad in your life with multiple pathways stretching out beyond you in all different directions. I'm not afraid that one path would be more difficult over another, but I'm worried that I cannot see the end to each of them to know which is the one that will take me where I want to be. I know everyone feels this way, but it doesn't make it easier. I just know I'd take the toughest most bloodiest path possible if I knew in the end it lead to a sense of belonging and a home, Faust. I wonder... if you could see the future, all the way down those pathways yourself, what would your heart long for?" Personal, Viskyia always made everything personal when a situation was such that she could do so discretely. She'd never call Faust out among his friends or family, or even in a crowd. But here they were alone, and she was curious. The dark elf lord could refuse to answer, or gloss over the question easily and she'd let him, not insisting he answer. But Viskyia had always had a curiosity about what others felt was ultimately important.

The talk turned from him to her though, and her relationship with Lord Kedrinus Laskinu Gha’Nalis, and her reaction to him in the morning. "Turn around. Let me look to your hair while I think about how to answer this." If he complied, she'd settle behind him and begin working soap into the silver strands. She would be far more comfortable with something to do with her hands while she thought about the encounter. Viskyia had been trained as a body servant, and had acted as one for years. It wasn't odd to her, but comforting, taking care of someone else. It would sooth the turmoil in her mind giving her a chance to really analyze her thoughts. The truth was, she was hoping childishly that Faust's company would offset Kedrinus' reaction and prompt him to peacefully sell her papers to the man.

"You aren't overstepping your boundaries. But there is something you don't understand. You should because its important. While he was my Master, Kedrinus never once beat me. He never raised a hand in anger to me. Slaves are valuable things, and skilled slaves are especially important. When you are born into slavery, Faust, there is nothing that is taken away." Her fingers kept working, busy... she was good at what she did, serving others and it showed in her touch, which was professional and impersonal. "So, its a bit incorrect thinking to picture a past full of violence. There is none. Instead, I was a tool for him. I was given knowledge I needed to better serve him and those he wished me too. The big scars on my body are ones of my own making from a process I'm still going through. The fine ones are from him." Viskyia had a soft almost lace-like etching to her skin in places that were visible on her pale skin only in the oddest of lights, as if she'd been repeatedly cut by very thin extremely sharp blades. They almost formed patterns, but there was no roughness to them, as if the cuts had indeed not been too deep. Faust wouldn't know, and perhaps couldn't understand that the process of their creation had somewhat addicted her to the sensation of pain, which was something she never spoke of to anyone. It was a secret shame, once she'd been free enough long enough to realize the cravings weren't normal and spoke of a deeply damaged psyche. If one ever cut her though, outside of a sparring ring, even accidentally, it wouldn't be something she could hide readily. "Every day I have to learn how to live a bit better outside of the world of someone dictating my life... when to get up, when to get dressed, when to eat, when to exercise, when to work. Sometimes its not so easy. I was with him thirty years, and while it is true sometimes he let my blood and invoked my pain and fear, he did so in the name of his rituals for a purpose other than maliciousness. For the most part, my duties were both light and dark... cutting stones for him, acting as a body servant to whomever needed it... I was no pleasure slave ever, though he has quite a few... and I served as his living alter because he knew every way possible to get a creature to feel afraid or feel pain without truly harming them. He took nothing away from me. He gave me life, if anything, when he let me live after my mother bore me." She didn't know if Faust could understand the feeling a slave had for a Master. It was a complex situation, a convoluted set of thoughts. Viskyia had no idea how much she'd changed since she fled The Gha’Nalis Estate. Would she be able to stand before Kedrinus without trembling? "He'll want me back now, I think, for all that I am his daughter. His interest was changing when I fled, and he sensed in me what drew him to my mother, from what I know now. If I end up back with him and represent myself truly, I know my fate. I am certain of it. If I show an ounce of spirit to him, I will take Mariaska's place and our relationship will change. Kedrinus has no interest in the weak, the humble, the reverent. These things don't make his blood boil." The thought sickened her, but as she spoke the words, she realized suddenly that she was a lot like her father. Fear spiked through her a moment and she paused in what she was doing.

"No... I'm nothing like him..." She whispered the words outloud, and then blinked as if she hadn't, moving past the awkard moment.

"If I go before him tomorrow with you, the only way he will let me go is if he thinks I am a broken spiritless creature who's been thrown away. It will not hurt either, if he thinks you are the one that has brought about the change. I cannot look him in the eye. I can have nothing but emptiness in my gaze. I will need to be in a place beyond fear and pain, and outside the boundaries of hope and will." She knew her father, and knew him well. "He's a powerful Arcanist, and has the Gods own ear I suspect for hes sacrificed enough to them..." She knew first hand, because countless things had been given over to the Gods as offerings as her time being Kedrinus' alter. "It would not hurt either he he thought I was with child or had some other malady that he would consider as 'damaging' to me. If that was the case, any child sired on me automatically belongs to him due to my ownership. He valued my virginity highly in his craft, and if someone changed that, it makes me worthless to him other than to cut gems and gemcutters are easily replaced. I cannot do this without a dominate male that outranks him in Vortex's society being involved." It was asking a lot. It was a plan of sorts, but only a plan by an inferior tactician. What she was saying was that on the morn, she'd need to be everything she was not.

"I think though, you ask if I will fight him if I must. The answer is yes, though honestly I do not think my skills outweigh his nor his arcana. It won't be easy, for I've had thirty years of hard training to obey him instantly, but I'd try. It's hard to... explain what that feels like, to serve someone, but when its all you knew for years it is a hard feeling of need to shake. I can tell you sometimes taking care of another is an amazing sensation to someone like me. It's just a sad thing in life that you cannot be both willful and yet serve another's needs to satisfy both parts of a whole without the situation being wholehearted complex or ridiculous." She confessed.

"So truthfully, tomorrow I'll dress in silk and jewels and vacate my spirit and hope I can afford the coin he will ask for the price of my freedom. If it is a deception you cannot abide by, then by all means suggest something else. You are both older and more worldly, Faust, than I can ever hope to be for this confrontation." She said humbly.

If he indeed had turned his back on her and let her work on his hair, she'd have spoke all of this softly, out of his sight unless he turned his head, as she worked soap gently into his long strands and expertly washed the waterfall of silver and rinsed it with the urn resting on the edge of the tub just for that purpose.

[Faust D'Rinishad]

“I wouldn’t call it self-less,” He admitted with an undisguised wince. His ebony features softened under his self-imposed scrutiny. Despite their recent affiliation with one another, honesty had already begun to define their relationship. Consequently, Faust could not veil the truth of his earlier account, one that, he realized, colored him in a noble light. Whether or not he was noble was ultimately Viskyia’s prerogative to decide, but he refused to paint a quasi-honest portrait of himself. She had been lied to many times in her life, and he was resolved not to become one of those who did –not ever. “The woman who leads House Kitrye’veresi, my cousin, depends a lot on me to help her . . . and by help I mean that she comes to me to make every decision.” He sighed finally, his slender shoulders submerging in the steaming tub for a moment. Rilvin Kitrye’veresi was more of a puppet than anything else. She had been installed for the sole purpose of her malleability.

The half-Esh’lahier’s words earned her a curious stare. “I admire you, Viskyia,” He said, self-consciously averting his gaze to the water’s surface. “I wish I could say that I knew what I wanted out of life, but I don’t. You must think I’m a fool, and I don’t blame you if you do. Here I am, a free man, telling you that I still don’t know what I want out of life when you have never had the chance to do what you wanted to do.” He smiled weakly. What was life like for Viskyia? What was it like knowing that every one of her dreams could be shattered at the whim of her Esh’lahier master? It was no way to live, but it was the only way that Viskyia Crow had ever known. Her fate hung on an edge, teetering on the brink of impossibility. Every decision could result in a loss. Every move could become a broken dream.

“Hopefully you have chosen the right path then,” He replied, smiling amidst the steamy vapors that filled the room. “And I pray that it may not be the bloodiest one. If it is, though, then at least you will not be fighting it alone.” Imparting a candid nod, the Vysstichi Lord reflected on his latent promise. He had vowed to help Viskyia, even if that meant intervening on her behalf against her Esh’lahier master. No one deserved slavery, not even the vile orcs. He had found a kindred spirit in the woman, a spirit that reminded him of himself. Had he not been like her under Alaret Kitrye’veresi’s reign? A fearful man who was constantly looking over his shoulders? He knew what it was like to live in apprehension, to perpetually worry about his every decision, his every move. And yet, there was a clear difference between him and Viskyia. She knew what she wanted. He did not.

“I can’t ever imagine myself settling down,” Faust admitted. “And to be honest, I’ve never thought about it. Like I told you before, my home has been everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I suppose that Vortex would be the closest place that I could ever call ‘home’, but I have always enjoyed the freedom of the road.” It was not exactly a definite answer to her question, but it manifested the Vysstichi Lord’s own ambiguity. What more was there to life than living it day by day? He wondered. Life was too transitory to plan too far ahead; it came and went quicker than a person could blink his or her eye. Faust thought of his own mentor, the late Serion D’Rinishad, who had perished in the bowels of the Cold South. Had his plans been in vain? Had his aspirations to equalize the Vysstichi race with the rest of mankind amounted to nothing more than an ultimately purposeless dream? As he stared at Viskyia, the dark elf’s contemplative visage betrayed his uncertainty, and he flicked at the water’s surface.

“Purpose,” He finally answered. “Sometimes it seems as if mankind’s struggles lack any eternal value. And sometimes I wonder why I was created. Why did the Gods give me these hands and these feet? Why did they allow me to experience all that I’ve experienced. These questions haunt me at times, and yet other times I find myself refusing to consider them. In my experiences, Viskyia, life is more fleeting than the wind. It comes and goes, and there is no certainty to it. I don’t know if that answers your question, but I long to discover if I’ve a greater purpose in life. I live each day knowing that every one of my decisions has the power to effect another person’s life, but I wonder sometimes, well, if there is more.” He shrugged then, hoping that his explanation had shed some light upon his perspectives on life, or lack thereof. Having been a veteran of multiple wars already, the Prince of Har’oloth knew better than anyone how quickly life could pass one by.

He turned around slowly, purposely keeping his gaze skyward to avoid staring at her womanly features. Viskyia undoubtedly possessed attractive qualities, both physical and otherwise, and the dark elf determined not to disrespect her with behavior that would relegate him just above a tavern drunkard or scoundrel. His civility stemmed in part from his heritage, or rather, the fact that male Vysstichi were required to pay absolute obeisance to their female counterparts, but Faust was more well-mannered than most. His long-time teacher and father-like figure, Jhael, had taught him the value of etiquette. Still, in a way the Vysstichi Lord was grateful for the opportunity to turn away from Viskyia out of fear that his mien would disclose his bashfulness.

In any case, her explanation concerning Kedrinus’s treatment seized his consideration. Indeed, he was unable to relate to the slave-master relationship. His association with Alaret had been more of a master-servant connection, one that had not bound him wholly to her will. Even when his aunt had assumed authority of House Kitrye’veresi, he had been relatively free to act of his own accord. Of course, his autonomy had been severely restricted, but she had not dictated his every decision and action. In regarding Viskyia and her father, though, it occurred to the dark elf that hers was a much different situation, and yet, he had a difficult time believing her. Although he had not intentionally observed her in an immodest manner, he had noted the various scars running along her slender figure. They were blade marks. While he knew Viskyia to be knife wielder and a veteran of many fights, the intricacies of the scars were too definite to have been afflicted in a haphazard bar fight or tavern brawl. Deciding to maintain his silence out of respect for the woman’s good faith, he merely nodded.

“So long as you are prepared to do what you must do, and only you know what that is. I will support you either way.” He nodded, hoping to communicate his sincerity. Viskyia had been correct. Faust would never be able to understand her affections for her father, whatever they were. Hers was a peculiar relationship, one that could only be comprehended by those who had lived in her position. He continued to listen to Viskyia, though, desiring to learn where she was coming from. At the end of the brightening, it was Viskyia’s fight alone. He was nothing more than a helping hand, a hand that might be able to encourage her to see her intentions to the end. He did not envy her. Surely her situation was more complex than any he had ever been in, and the Gods certainly knew that he had had his share of those. But this was not a fight that could be won with a sword alone. Viskyia could slay her father, certainly, but that would not absolve her from the burden that continued to weigh upon her shoulders.

The more Viskyia spoke of her father, the more Faust realized how his role might be pertinent yet. Kedrinus, despite his social affluence, was nevertheless a creature of custom. He followed the patterns of nobility, or more specifically, the hierarchy of societal authority. However, Faust was reluctant to fully confide in Viskyia’s optimism. A man like Kedrinus, that is, a necromancer of considerable power, was equally as likely to be obsessed with control as he was with losing a potentially valueless slave. To lose a slave, regardless of one’s position on society’s rung, was no small matter, but more poignantly, to lose one’s daughter was far more humiliating. Although Faust candidly hoped that the situation would resolve according to Viskyia’s theory, the dark elf doubted that it would be the case. For her sake, though, he withheld his opinion. She was a shattered soul; she needed encouragement now; she needed to be reminded that she was not alone on this endeavor. One way or another, Viskyia Crow would be a free person the following brightening.

As her hands continued to knead his hair, the dark elf instinctively fingered a peculiar medallion that hung around his neck. The emblem was chiseled of some monotonous stone and fashioned to display some swordsman piercing the skull of a demon. Faust had never removed the medallion from his neck since acquiring it from a demon hunter amidst the rooftops of Riparia, but perhaps this once, he would do so. Viskyia needed it now more than he ever had before. His slender, callused digit slipped underneath the necklace, fishing it over his head. Smiling faintly, he slowly turned to face her. “As I said earlier, Viskyia, you have to do what you have to do. But when you face your fa-, no, Kedrinus tomorrow, do it with confidence. Do not forget who you are. Do not forget where you’ve been. And do not forget where you might go.” He instinctively glanced at the medallion in his hand, his fingers slowly uncurling from it to reveal it to the woman.

“I wish that I could understand what you are going through, but I don’t. I would lie if I told you that I knew exactly how you’re feeling, but I can try. When we go to see him tomorrow, wear this…” He held the medallion out to her, nodding for her to take it. “I’ve worn it for years now, and it has protected me like a guardian angel. You could have used your share of those in the past…” He said with a consoling smile, “…but hopefully this will serve as one for you in the present. When you face Kedrinus in the morning, you will face him on even grounds. I do not propose that you repay your father wrong for wrong, but I encourage you to finish what you’ve started, to accomplish what you've been striving for all of these years. That is what you’ve longed for. Don’t let anyone ever take that from you. And if Kedrinus requires money from you, I will gladly pay it. It’s the least I can do. You’ve given me a lot to think about, and you’ve spoken more wisdom in one brightening than I’ve heard in many years now. We’ll go to see Kedrinus together tomorrow. I hope that he takes the bait, but do not fear if he does not.”

He sighed then, absorbing it all while entertaining the prospect of an eventful morning. When he had agreed to help her, he had latently implied that her cause was worth personally investing in. He sincerely wished that he could do more for her. Faust knew all too well the joys that freedom could bring, and no price could ever be attached to autonomy. Maybe, just maybe, the Gods had sent Viskyia to him for this very purpose. Maybe this was one of the ways that they were showing him how he might be of service to those around