Early in the day Sarah hummed a Blackwolf battle hymn she was particularly fond of from the original Kir clan, while cleaning the guest room for Maiwen. The lyrics spoke of a battle about three hundred years ago in Nirdor, where the clan faced ten to one odds against an orcish invasion at their main stronghold. They had nowhere else to flee to, it was fight or abandon their ancestral home. The Kir's prevailed at great cost but, they always were a stubborn lot. Her elder brother Madrin had inherited the ancient spirit for certain. About ten years later clan Iria formed the first stages of the northern alliance with the Kir's. This included five great tribes counting those two when it was finally drafted and signed by the chieftains.

It was sad really, that such stories had been forgotten in the wake of the betrayal that turned Nirdor into a dark place. Sarah was often complimented on her fine voice. She enjoyed any opportunity to practice. With the difficulties of being a spy such times were often rare.

She had finished late in the afternoon making sure the place was spotless. She sought out Maiwen to let her know her room was ready. The young girl was harder to find than Sarah suspected. However, she was skilled and finding people who didn't want to be found.

Later, before Verial or Deanna returned to the villa she noticed Sahar in the solar. Sarah gave a polite curtsy and informed her that the room had been prepared though she didn't know if the lords sister intended to use it. "I found her but, she is hard to figure out Lady Sahar. Please excuse me." Another curtsy was given, and Sarah left to find some dinner.

The twins met up in the stable after both the mounts were returned. "Shaun please tell me mother kept watch on the wanderers"

"Aye, dear sister. However, she had to choose whom to shadow since they left at different times. The healer was the obvious choice since we're here for her sake anyway." Shaun laughed quietly. "She has quite a bit of luck, I feel sorry for anyone that chooses to test it."

"Good, I was worried. By the two fangs I hope I can get proper sleep tonight." Sarah had several late nights recently, thank the gods mother kept watch outside.


Sasha Blackwolf had to shoot a raven from the sky during the night. No small feat for any archer. The older woman was a marksman of such skill that she managed. The right wing was pierced but, she had a small magical gift for healing. It was only useful on small animals however, she often employed it to take out messenger birds. Then Sasha fixed the injuries she inflicted. Her belt knife was heated then plied to lift the light blue seal on the letter. She read the contents that was in Verial's hand. She saw no reason to hold onto it, since it was a simple inquiry for Madrin, not a security breach. "There you go little one, on your way." The raven left her hands and continued its' trip to Eiler.

***OOC Note: Following Sasha Blackwolf's interception of Verial's raven, the events take place the next morning and were taken from chat play***


Deanna-DiCorvino
Deanna had spent two hours with Sedric, who as promised, met her at dawn with the sword she had eyed the day prior. By the time they had finished, Deanna was sweating, her muscles aching, but there was a flush of pride to her face as she sheathed her sword and handed it over to Sedric. The Captain, who was breathing heavy from effort and rather impressed with her skill had insisted she keep the weapon and they made plans to meet again on the morrow at dawn. Deanna had returned home to the villa and bathed, changed into a warm dress of a vibrant hued blue and left to go to the stables. Amazingly she had managed to avoid most everyone in the household, which was saying something. Waving to Shaun, Deanna greeted the mare she rode the previous day, and grinning at the lovely chestnut colored horse, saddled her and within moments, both Deanna and the mare were off. Today's destination was off to the south, as Deanna had decided to explore as much of her new homeland as possible. She was prepared with some provisions in her saddle pack, especially apples for the nameless horse (something she would rectify as soon as possible), and the two rode off past the forest. They came to a snow covered grassy field littered with evergreens that had this amazing panoramic view of a small mountain range. Off to the southwest were cliffs that would overlook the ocean. After some time, Deanna tied the horse to a tree and withdrew an apple from her pack. She was busy feeding the animal when they both heard the sound of another horse galloping in their direction, the large stallion neighing as he spotted Deanna's mare. Deanna stilled as she realized the rider was Verial, whom upon spotting her, appeared as if considering turning the stallion around to gallop back the way he came. Deanna could see, even from this distance, that he was mentally deliberating, but after some time, he finally rode toward where Deanna and the mare had camped, but made no immediate move to dismount. Deanna bit on her lip and groaned, wishing she had gone off in another direction, any direction, but decided to put on her brave face and nodded her head to him before going back to feeding her mare. "I was not aware the Lord was visiting the stable this morning or I would have made other plans. My apologies," the words were murmured quietly as Deanna pet the mare on her nose, who nudged her hand in return for more apple.

Verial`Akilara
After approving Edgar's request of the upcoming Winter Masquerade ball, Verial had spent the rest of the day doing anything else that included not planning for such an event. That sort of thing was better left off to Edgar, the rest of the Villa's staff and perhaps Sahar if she felt so inclined to partake in such a thing. Verial had spent a good part of the morning and well into noon busying himself with requesting provisions and supplies, sending out official letters to Eiler with offers of trade. Verial had a mental note in the back of his head that Sahar could not be left without her wine, although Verial never thought her a lush, especially not in comparison to say Layla Victoire. When lunch hour rolled around, Verial moved away from his desk and made way to leave the Villa, intent on taking another ride and testing out the same white and lightly gray spotted horse he had ridden the other day. There was, without a doubt, a certain sort of release and relaxation Verial had gotten yesterday from his ride and he was hoping to do the same today. Galloping through the snow, horse and rider headed southwards from Chaliceton, Verial leading the animal along intent on taking another ride and testing out the same white and lightly gray spotted horse he had ridden the other day. There was, without a doubt, a certain sort of release and relaxation Verial had gotten yesterday from his ride and he was hoping to do the same today. Galloping through the snow, horse and rider headed southwards from Chaliceton, Verial leading the animal along the coast once more. Verial had not yet reached the cliffs (he was curious if the cliffs were constructed in the same manner as in the northern most tip of Chaliceton) when he came across a grassy field covered with an unusual and sparse amount of snow dotted with evergreens. There among the field was Deanna and her own horse and Verial stopped almost immediately, sucking in a breath and contemplating turning away from this spot. However, there was a gentle subconscious pull towards Deanna as usual and Verial nudged his horse in his direction. Interestingly enough, the stallion he rode seemed to be a bit excited over seeing another horse, that being Deanna's mare. Just a few feet away, Verial did dismount from his saddle, his boots landing softly into the dusting of snow and looked questioningly at Deanna. "Sorry? I do not understand," Verial said. "You are free to ride wherever you wish. Arthuran is just as much yours as it is mine." Before Deanna could answer, Verial's horse gave him a rough push against his back with its head and Verial had to steady his footing. Verial turned back and narrowed his eyes at the animal that almost appeared to look longingly at the apple Deanna's mare was munching away on.

Deanna-DiCorvino
Deanna shrugged as she cooed over her mare who was eyeballing the stallion as she ate, seemingly smug that her rider cared enough to offer her treats. She didn't reply to Verial's comment, figuring there would be no point and avoided a potential argument. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the jealous stallion's attempt to gather Verial's attention long enough to coerce some of the fruit for himself. She hid a smile and leaned closer to whisper to her mare. "What do you think, little lady? Should we give him some or make him suffer?" The mare snorted and polished off the last bits, and Deanna tried hard not to chuckle at the mare's brazen disregard for the male...either male. Deanna reached into the pack and plucked out another red fruit, one she had been saving for herself, but feeling rather sorry for the pathetic brute, gave her mare a pat on the head before turning to walk the few feet toward Verial and the stallion. She avoided eye contact with Verial, though she felt her cheeks burn at such close proximity. Staring hard at the stallion who was practically drooling over the apple, Deanna smiled at him and asked, "Want some?" The horse stomped in the snow with glee, and Deanna took a big cruchy bite of the fruit, teasing him before she held it out in her hand so he could munch gleefully. She chewed and swallowed, glancing at Verial with an arched brow. "Next time bring him a snack. He seems rather needy." Her tone was as neutral as she could muster when she next asked, "Escaping from the daily grind of lordship?" She almost asked where his sister was, wondering why Maiwen wasn't following him around in that stalker way of hers, but didn't want to come across as bitchy...or jealous. Which she wasn't. At all.

Verial`Akilara
There was something that Deanna wanted to say in regards to his question, but Verial could tell she had bit her tongue instead and held back whatever words wanted to surface. A few silent minutes passed before Deanna grabbed an apple from her own pack and teased Verial's horse by the thought of a treat and then biting into the delicious fruit in front of the stallion. At long last, the horse was delighted when Deanna fed it the juicy, red snack. "He does, doesn't he?" Verial said replying to Deanna. After which he turned to his horse and whispered the word, "Beggar." The nameless stallion snorted at Verial after chowing down on the apple and then took a few steps towards Deanna. The animal affectionately nudged its head underneath Deanna's forearm in thanks, bowing its head for a moment. Afterwards, the horse shook its head, its main swaying some over its neck and Verial looked up at the gray skies above Arthuran while contemplating Deanna's next question. "Something like that... I have not seen Maiwen since that night and I am hoping to put some much needed extra distance between her and I by visiting places she hopefully does not know about." Half a frown marred face as he looked at the sky as if expecting Maiwen to drop out of it. When he dipped his gaze back down to Deanna though, his face was nearly expressionless. "That and Edgar is busy having everyone assist him in planning some Winter Masquerade Ball."

Deanna-DiCorvino
She hid the scowl that appeared on her face by ducking her head against the stallion's neck to offer him a hug. Maiwen. So Verial wished to put distance between himself and his sibling did he? Did she bore him already? Deanna swallowed these bitter thoughts as she withdrew herself from the stallion to give him a pat on his flank before meeting Verial's gaze. "A Ball?" She blinked in surprise. "You will host a Ball at the Villa?" It seemed so out of the ordinary, so unlike Verial, but it was not her place to question such. Verial ruled Arthuran, not she. Deanna glanced away, pondering this bit of news. A Ball meant invitations were being sent if they hadn't been already. A Ball meant visitors, and though it was a Masquerade, there was still a chance someone would recognize her. She voiced none of these thoughts as she had no intention of attending anyway. "It sounds...lovely," she managed to say at last. Deanna kicked at the snow with a booted foot, trying to muster up some sort of conversation with Verial, but she found herself lacking. "I...," she fell silent, exhaling slowly. What could she say that wouldn't sound stupid? "I am sure it will be quite grand." There. That didn't sound too stupid, she thought as she rubbed her arms briskly, the chill in the air nipping at her.

Verial`Akilara
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and looked towards Deanna who moved around to give his horse a gentle pat on its flank, the animal neighing lightly in response. "It is, apparently, their tradition every winter. Edgar believes it would be good for others to get to know Chaliceton, to visit this far away town they know so little about. I agree with him, but I also did not have any reason to tell him 'no' either." Verial then took the reins and led his horse to the tree where Deanna's was, tying the reigns to a branch as well. Afterwards, Verial stepped back towards Deanna who was shuffling her feet through the snow. "If you have any intentions of attending, I don't believe you have reason to worry over someone noticing you. As it is, I don't think the people of Chaliceton are that ignorant to the news of what happened in Eiler and... no one has bothered to question about Lady Amelia's past and where she is from." Verial took a few steps away from Deanna, heading a bit across the grassy field to a spot that he could hear the ocean not far off crashing against the cliffs. "Grand indeed," Verial said, but he was lost somewhere in his thoughts and did not make eye contact with Deanna.

Deanna-DiCorvino
She was focused on the horses, how the stallion attempted to nuzzle the mare, and though at first she resisted, eventually responded to the male. It was rather sweet how content the two beasts were in each other's company when their humans couldn't even manage to to be in the same area as each other. She had been prepared to gather the mare and ride away, but not even in her desperation to leave as being in Verial's company was beyond unsettling to her, could she do that to the mare and her newfound love. She would reluctantly give the two lovebirds a moment or two of happiness before she spoiled it. Deanna cleared her throat, drawing Verial's attention to her. "I have been around town some lately. It's really quaint there. Enjoyable even." She reached up to brush strands of her auburn locks from her face. "The taverns, well I've only visited one really, but that one is nicely kept and clean. I was thinking to move my belongings there." Once again Deanna bit down on her lip, a gesture she did when clearly uncomfortable. "I think it would best if I stayed there. For me...for you." She wasn't asking for his permission, or his blessing, merely stating what she believed was the wisest course. "That way you can be a proper lord. Visible to your people instead of...," she gestured feebly, indicating his avoidance of her. Strangely there was no trace of bitterness in her tone, no hostility, though it was a struggle to keep herself in such a calm state of being. "I just wanted you to know, is all."

Verial`Akilara
It was quite amazing how on certain days Deanna and Verial were one and could stand each other's company, as if their heart beats were in sync. But there were other days, such as the present one, where bolting away seemed to be the most viable option. Still, Deanna stood her ground as did Verial. Part of him was pleased that Deanna was beginning to enjoy her stay in Chaliceton, however much she protested in the beginning due to what had happened with Sharay. Nevertheless, when she suggested she move into the tavern, an obvious frown set on Verial's face and his brows narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused a beat before finally getting out the right words. "Perhaps you might be right and maybe you could even get a job there. It would be like the Oak Barrel Tavern for you in some ways," Verial said. He then shook his head and let out a short sigh. "Though I wonder what to tell people why Lady Amelia has moved from the comfort of the Villa to a tavern?" Verial knew that Deanna was right, so he did not protest or even deny his avoidance of her when she gestured to herself in response. He had never been quite good at hiding things from people and this case any different. Eventually after a long silence, Verial regarded Deanna with his odd colored eyes and nodded gently. "I would tend to agree with you." Though it was clear he was not pleased with having to avoid Deanna's company due to compromising their emotional states and the thought of his wayward sister.

Deanna-DiCorvino
It had not been her intent to inform him she was leaving the Villa just to hear him ask her to stay. She knew he wouldn't, but there was a part of her, a very small part, that was devestated by his reponse. Still she carried herself with as much grace and composure as she could muster, her jaw squared as she sought the answer to his question. "You wish to know what to tell people for the reason I am leaving? Tell them that I can no longer be in your presence any longer for it pains me physically, mentally and emotionally to do so. Tell them that each moment I have spent in your arms I punish myself because I know it is not right, but at the same time being with you is the only time I truly feel anything outside of emptiness inside. Tell them that it kills me to know that another seems to bring you moment of joy...and pleasure, no matter how sick and perverse it is, and that I cannot stay under the same roof knowing this. Tell them that my guilt for all I have done has been a heavy burden to bear, but those moments that I did lay with you, my spirit felt lighter for however brief a time...because of you." Deanna turned on her heel and walked to her horse, angrily brushing at her eyes as she fumbled with the reigns and mounted the startled mare as quickly as she could. She dug her heels sharply in the mare's flank and snapped at the poor creature to ride as hard and fast as she could away from the Lord of Arthuran.

Verial`Akilara
He stood, open mouthed and shocked at everything that Deanna had said. Initially, part of what she had said upset Verial. It was now obvious that Deanna was hurt and felt as if she was being punished by his agreement to let her stay at the tavern. Verial had agreed with her. It, unfortunately, was not the best thing for him to say which he realized little too late. What was he supposed to do? Pull her into his arms and say, 'Deanna, don't go. I love you.' It was out of the question, because as far as Verial knew, the only feelings Deanna had for him were those of a certain dependency. They needed each other, but did it stretch any further than that? If Verial had an answer for that question, it was met when Deanna suggested that one of the reasons he tell people that she had left was because Deanna had some assumption in her mind that Verial was sleeping with his sister. Gods, he wished he had let Deanna stay the other night instead of dismissing her so she could see just how angry he was with Maiwen and not smitten with her. If the thought of Verial possibly sleeping with his sister sickened Deanna, then Verial's own feelings over even being accused of such thing were far worse and disgusted. Even as Deanna closed by saying she felt lighter while with him, however short of a time it was, Verial could not say a damn thing. He watched Deanna go, fists clenched at his side, lips pursed tightly together and a dark anger and hatred setting inside of him. Verial let Deanna go, not because he was incapable of catching up to her and telling she was wrong, but because he feared what might happen if he did catch up with her, regardless of how much he actually cared for Deanna.

What am I doing?

When Deanna felt she had put enough distance between herself and Verial, she had allowed the mare to slow to a trot much to the relief of the horse. Taking a longer way home, or rather back to the stable, would give her time to reflect upon her behavior which was, in her opinion, shameful.

She had acted the fool back there, and that angered Deanna more than anything else. She cursed herself repeatedly for the ridiculous little speech she had given Verial as a response to the reasons she deemed it necessary to reside in the tavern instead of the Villa. Why had she even bothered to mention it in the first place? Where she chose to live in Chaliceton was no one's business but her own, and yet like a blubbering fool, she not only informed Verial of her decision to leave, but actually expected a reaction different from the one he had given her. It was a rational response that he had given, and made absolute sense. Did she truly believe he really wanted her to stay? What would be the purpose outside of awkward encounters and resentment?

Deanna felt herself grow angry as she thought of Sahar and her words of wisdom concerning the potential problems should the two remain bed mates. The healer was without doubt, correct in predicting an unfavorable outcome as a result of their selfish and senseless behavior, yet it should not have come to this. Whatever sexual encounters Deanna and Verial had should have remained as detached and uninvolved as possible, which is what it had started out as. So what exactly had changed?

She shook her head and laughed bitterly as she petted the mare on the side of her neck as they rode. The problem did not lie within Verial, for he was keeping to their unspoken bargain. It was she who had foolishly allowed herself to feel something, anything, for him when the truth of the matter was that there was nothing between them and never had been. She knew it, but still had allowed her emotional state to corrupt any sense of logic and rational thinking in believing otherwise. Deciding to move out of the Villa was the smartest decision she had made since arriving in Chaliceton. Verial had obviously sensed a problem brewing concerning Deanna and nipped it quickly before it escalated into something that would undoubtedly end in an extremely violent way.

Why the heartfelt confession then? Deanna replayed the scene over and over in her head and came to the conclusion that at the time she was not in her right mind and confused sex for something else and the result was the obvious hurt she felt. This delusion must have stemmed from Maiwen's abrupt visit while they were in the tub together which ended with Verial sending her on her way. So easily had he dismissed her as if she were nothing more than a common whore, and from that moment on, had gone entirely out of his way to avoid her...his big mistake. Perhaps Maiwen had talked sense into him, perhaps he was guilt ridden over sleeping with the woman who orchestrated the death of his son or perhaps Deanna was correct in assuming that Verial came from a rather bizarre bloodline who believed in keeping it in the family. Whatever it was, it had disturbed Deanna greatly which resulted in the insanity she was currently experiencing. The insanity being that she believed she felt something for Verial that wasn't in the cards. It wasn't quite love, but damned if it wasn't close enough to it.

Deanna wasn't one to simply give her heart, and her body for that matter, away to whomever was convenient. Three failed relationships later (though honestly, could one even count Quinn?), Deanna had gambled her heart and lost both times. Obviously there was a problem, and the very idea that she would even consider any sort of relationship with Verial just proved Deanna needed psychological help as well as a heavy dose of mood altering drugs.

But she hadn't lied about how she felt when with Verial. Even with all the guilt, hatred and loathing weighing her down, she truly had felt a moment of reprieve in his arms...and bed. She had felt the sting of rejection and it did cause her pain and distress. Just thinking of it now made her nauseous. Very nauseous in fact. Deanna felt her stomach lurch and yanked hard on the reigns, jerking the mare to a sudden halt. She scrambled off the mare with her feet barely touching the ground before her digested breakfast spewed out of her mouth and defiled the pristine whiteness of the snow covered ground. Unable to stop herself from vomiting, she ended up dropping to her hands and knees until finally she no longer felt the desire to purge. Her throat burned and she cupped fresh snow in her hand to bring to her mouth, cleansing herself of the foul taste before wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Shaking and sweaty, Deanna glanced up at the horse who regarded her with mild interest as she nibbled at the few shoots of grass that poked through the snow.

“Really don't trouble yourself. I'm fine.” Deanna said dryly as she rose to stand, her legs slightly wobbly, but she was able to mount the mare without falling. I'm making myself physically sick over this, she thought with a shake of her head as she concentrated on breathing slowly in through her nose and out of her mouth as they rode toward the stables. Deanna had to stop twice as the urge to throw up was strong, but despite her illness, she made it to the stable and handed the reigns over to Shaun. Her skin was clammy and she felt exhausted, so she apologized for being unable to tend to the mare herself as she was feeling sick and needed to lie down.

Deanna walked in a daze toward the Villa and barely took note of Edgar and Sahar discussing something about invitations as she stumbled past them, the queasiness in her stomach indicating she was due for another vomit session. Hand clamped firmly over her mouth, she frantically raced to her room hoping to make it to her toilet in the bathing area. Luck was not favoring her, and Deanna found herself hunched over, heaving whatever little contents there were left in her stomach onto the throw rug on her floor. She was breathing heavy and felt like she was dying when strong hands hooked under her arms and helped her to her feet. It was Edgar who led her to her bed where she sat on the edge, a concerned Sahar hovering behind him. Vaguely Deanna was aware of the healer requesting herbal tea and hard biscuits from Edgar before the door closed behind him. Sahar had returned from the bath with a wet cloth in her hand which she dabbed on Deanna's forehead and mouth. For once, she did not protest the assistance of the healer.

Sahar helped to remove her soiled clothes and slipped a clean chemise over her head before aiding Deanna into laying down on the bed. Only when she was sure Deanna wasn't going to be sick again, did Sahar ask, “Something you ate?”

Deanna shook her head, the motion bringing forth nausea again and she took several deep shallow breaths until the feeling passed. "No idea,” she choked out. “Stress maybe? Some air-born disease?” Sahar fired out questions which Deanna answered as best as she could when Edgar knocked on the door, announcing his arrival. Sahar admitted him into the room, but cautioned him to remain at a distance in case Deanna was contagious, and the manservant didn't hesitate to agree as he left the tray on the table before leaving quickly. Sahar helped Deanna into sitting position and brought her the tea infused with peppermint to settle her stomach.

“I need to examine you,” Sahar stated firmly and held up her hand quickly as Deanna immediately began to protest. “I don't want to hear it. You are going to lay back and shut up so I can do my job, do you understand?” Deanna let out a martyred sigh, but did as requested knowing the sooner Sahar looked her over, the sooner she could sleep.

“Make it fast. I think I'm going to throw up again.”


***


Deanna slumped against the headboard, her face deathly pale as she stared down at her hands which were folded upon her lap.

“I have never asked anything of you, but I am begging you now,” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she lifted her amber gaze to plead with Sahar who reached for one of Deanna's hands and squeezed gently. “You don't understand...,”

“Deanna I do understand, believe me,” Sahar sighed sadly. “but understanding does not change anything. There is nothing I can do about that. I am sorry Deanna. I am.”

Deanna was quiet for some time before she nodded with reluctant acceptance of the healer's determination.

“Though you do not have a fever, I suggest you remain in bed for the remainder of the day. You need to rest and I will periodically bring you something light to eat and more tea.” Sahar bit down on her lip. “If Lord Verial should inquire why you will not attend dinner...,”

“He won't,” Deanna intoned in a voice devoid of emotion, then added, “Your word, Sahar. Remember you gave it to me.”

The desert magae nodded unhappily. “I did, and I mean to keep it, but Deanna you are making a mistake. Verial can...”

“No.”

“Deanna be reasonable! Verial would understand..,”

“No.”

Sahar threw up her hands in a fit of exasperation, anger finally showing in her words. “You think to just leave? Do you honestly believe he will not notice that you are gone? He is not blind nor stupid! Use your head, woman! Think of how this will affect him. What this will do to him?”

Deanna turned her head away, refusing to look at the woman or budge on her decision. “I am.”

The healer let out a breath. “When?”

“Soon. Perhaps after the Ball, perhaps sooner. I don't know yet.”

Sahar stared at her for a beat or two then rose. “Take some time to think about it. I am here to help you all that I can, alright?” Deanna did not answer, so the healer took that as her cue to leave. “I'll check in on you later. Try to sleep.” Deanna listened as the door shut quietly indicating Sahar had left before she inched lower under the covers to lay her head upon her pillow.

It did not take long before she submitted to her troubled and plagued sleep. She dreamed the same nightmare of fire and blood, of chaos and death only this time it was slightly different. This time she found herself surrounded by demonic children who clung to her and called her Mother before their dark magic consumed her, and she held them protectively in her arms even as they destroyed her.

***OOC note: The Masquerade Ball will be played out between December 17th-19th. This will be to give anyone who wishes to rp the storyline out an opportunity to do so in chat or in forum play. Also keep in mind this is a Masquerade Ball for our characters and there will be voting on best costume after the event is over...Dystopia***


Sahar was sitting in the conference room when Edgar entered carrying a tray signaling it was tea time. The magae glanced up and smiled, especially upon taking note there were two cups available, indicating Edgar would join her for tea. As the manservant set the tray down, he had to grin seeing the scattering of parchments, ink pots and quills, and wax seal stamp that was the personalized insignia of the Lord of Arthuran. Since Verial wanted little to do with the upcoming ball, Sahar had personally taken it upon herself to handle the event, and that included sending out the invitations.

Edgar sat down beside Sahar and carefully plucked one of the invitations inscribed with Sahar's elegant script. There were four in total, three already rolled and sealed with the wax seal that represented Arthuran, specifically the six pointed cerulean blue snowflake that was the symbol of the Goddess Elysia with the initials VA that were set in the center. These particular three were meant for royal dignitaries of the three remaining continents of Aleris: one for King Elias Lowell of Eiler, one of the Padishah and Bel Telal of Heruin, Princess Ameerah Sultan and Prince Valorius Malku respectively, Lady Layla Victoire of Elved, and the last of which Edgar held in hand was addressed to Reid Feral, Editor-in-Chief of The Chronicle newspaper. It was expected that the leaders of the continents would naturally inform those who wished to attend the Masquerade of the personal invite, which usually consisted of Commanding officers, Priests and Priestesses of their corresponding deities, and other high ranking officials. Even though Reid held no particular title of his own, Sahar had decided to invite the dedicated news official, and knew that he would immediately post news of the Masquerade Ball in the paper for all to see.

As Sahar dropped a cube of sugar in her tea, Edgar began to read the wording of the invitation.

You are hereby invited to attend
The Annual Chaliceton Winter Masquerade Ball
Held at Northsea Manor on December 17th
Festivities to begin at 8:00 pm.
Hosted by Verial Akilara, Lord of Arthuran

Edgar nodded in approval. The Chaliceton Winter Masquerade Ball was quite the gala event. Everyone was expected to attend in lavish costumes of their choosing, the more elaborate the better, and Edgar in all of his time in service at Northsea Manor, or the Villa as it was known by the locals, had seen some rather impressive and ostentatious costumes from both men and women. The banquet hall would be opened with a magnificent feast spread out on several huge tables for guests. There would be plenty of wine, ale and other assorted spirits for consumption. There would be quite the variety of musicians to play in the ballroom, which though mainly unused for a majority of the year, was already being prepared and decorated for the Masquerade. The ballroom had a capacity of at least one hundred people, but more than often double the amount had attended and often guests spilled out onto the terrace and courtyard, as well as the main hallway. It was indeed a grand event known for giving prizes for the most creative or outlandish costumes, and had so far been quite the success each year. This year would hopefully be no different.

Naturally all leading officials would have guest quarters prepared at the Villa, while others in attendance had the option of staying at one of many taverns that were located in Chaliceton, reserved just for guests of the Ball. Sahar had never attended a Masquerade before, and was especially excited to play the role of hostess. She had been considering her attire for the event and even discussing a few options with Edgar when Deanna had arrived home a few hours prior, and all thoughts of the Masquerade had been set aside to tend to her illness. Edgar concurred that the invitations were ready to be sent out, and would send them off via ravens to their destinations as soon as he finished afternoon tea with Sahar.

The desert healer had removed her head scarf and shook out her mane of dark wavy locks, feeling rather invigorated despite the day's trying events. Edgar, a man old enough to be Sahar's grandfather, once again was struck by the woman's beauty, intelligence and grace, could not for the life of him understand why the current Lord of Arthuran was not as smitten with her as was every other hot-blooded male whom had the fortune to come across the magae. Had Edgar been twenty years younger, he would have boldly asked for Sahar's hand, but as it was, he was genuinely content having befriended the young beauty. From the time Sahar spent with Edgar, he knew the feeling was mutual, and this pleased him greatly. Edgar was fully aware of the protective, almost sisterly way Sahar felt concerning the Lord Verial, and often mused how lucky the Lord was to have such a woman look after him. It was the Lady Amelia that the elder manservant could not figure out, though he found her pleasant enough the brief moments he did manage to speak to her.

“How does the Lady fare, Sahar?' Edgar inquired with concern as he sipped his tea. “I do hope she has not come down with something dreadful that would cause her not to attend the Ball.”

Sahar smiled thinly and patted Edgar's hand. “Do not fret, Edgar. Lady Amelia will be fine, I promise you. Her attendance of the Masquerade...well, that is debatable. Frankly, we should count ourselves fortunate if the Lord himself makes an appearance,” she made a face at that, hoping that Verial would not disappoint her by ducking out of the Ball and his duty as host. As it was, Sahar had her hands full with both Verial and Deanna as of late, and actually welcomed the distraction of planning the winter party event.

“Has the Lord returned yet?”

Sahar chewed the inside of her cheek and shook her head. “Not that I am aware of, though if you happen to see him before I do, please send him my way Edgar. I have matters to discuss with him,” she paused then, her brows drawing together in consideration. “Actually Edgar, if you do see him, send him to the dining hall...and Edgar? Bring wine. Lots and lots of wine.”

Murderous. It was the one word Verial could think of to describe his current state of mind as he watched Deanna and the mare she rode flee the scene. He was appreciative of her escape if only for the fact that he knew if he caught up to Deanna, he would be tempted to strangle some sense into her. Verial stood unmoving, the cold wind of Arthuran hitting his cheeks. That effect of nature did little to soothe the heated emotion that bubbled and threatened to rise from within him.

After some time, Verial did manage to pick up his feet and walk over to the tree where his horse was tethered. He untied the reigns from the branch and set the horse free. The animal, sensing some impending danger, took one look at its rider and fled the scene, galloping back to Chaliceton. Once Verial was alone and the gray and white spotted horse was well out of the way, that anger inside Verial erupted. It transformed him; skin was replaced with obsidian colored scales and where wings lacked, dark appendages grew once more. Sharp, lethal-looking talons dug into the earth and a tail flicked outward. Where Verial previously stood was a black dragon, stretching out over the scarce trees in the area. A few of those trees toppled over in Verial's transformation and the beast let out a roar the echoed through the barren snow lands of Arthuran.

Verial took to the skies. It had been quite some time since he had transformed into his dragon - his other half. The last time was since the Val`nothe attack. Despite all the rage that compromised his being, the wind felt good beneath his wings, a sensation he realized he sorely missed. As he flew, he thought about Deanna and all she had said. Verial was trying to understand how she could think such a thing about him - that she believed he had sent her away to sleep with Maiwen. The mere thought sickened him. Perhaps he had given Deanna reason to, as he had made to avoid her since Maiwen's arrival. But what type of person did Deanna actually peg him for?

It wasn't simply this little tid-bit that bothered him though. His so-called relationship with Maiwen was the least of Verial's frustrations. In any other situation, it would have been easy to explain to Deanna how he felt. That he had no romantic feelings towards his sister, because Deanna was honestly the only woman on his mind at the time. Though there was nothing really 'romantic' about what he felt for Deanna per say, when he was with her the emotions he felt resembled love, however foreign of a feeling it was. There was no simple way to go about explaining this to Deanna because despite everything, there was still an overwhelming amount of grief, regret and hatred they felt for each other after everything that had happened - namely the loss of his wings and the death of his son, Kyrian. It was something unforgettable. It did not matter if Verial had forgiven Deanna; revealing to her the fact that Verial loved her would have been out of the question. For one, she would not have believed Verial and hated him for feeling that way. At least they could have agreed on one thing - that to love each other would have been wrong.

Foolishly, Verial had allowed himself to grasp onto some measure of hope, however small it was. Perhaps the loss of his wings was really insignificant. As proven by a few of their more recent days together, Verial was able to feel something other than anger and guilt. If Deanna had made him feel more alive in those days, maybe he would not wither away to nothingness - an emotionless shell of a person - as he so assumed. But if this confrontation with Deanna in the woods had shown him anything, it was they could not co-exist with each other. Not because they couldn't behave like rational adults, but because it was unhealthy and not right. They lived in the shadows, unsuspecting if someone was closely watching and waiting to kill Deanna. If the two had allowed themselves to feel anything else, it was only to mask the negativity that was ever present. There was no place for a union of Deanna and Verial - not now or any time in the future.

The weight of all these thoughts swarming in Verial's head like a subconscious attack made something happen. His flight led him south across Arthuran. Verial had made it past Elysia's Temple and was flying over the center of Eternal Lake when his wings ceased to function. He fell through the sky and fast, a black blur parting the clouds and snow that was carried on the wind. There seemed to be no way to get his wings to work. He could not pull himself up and was only able to marginally use them by catching the wind and gliding. Therefore, the impact when he hit the thick, solid ice of Eternal Lake was not as devastating.

Verial crashed against the lake, his side hitting first and his wings falling about his torso. Because he was in his dragon form, there would be no broken bones, although likely in his 'normal' form there would be a fair amount of bruising and cuts. Verial did not dare to shift; he lay there breathing heavily through gritted teeth and clearly stunned. What had happened? It was logical to suggest that maybe his failure to his wings was due to him not having flown as a dragon much lately. But what if it had something to do with the loss of his angelic wings?

Verial opened one of his odd colored eyes and looked down at the snow covered ice. His cheek was pressed against the ice and he was unable to gather himself up right away. Instead, Verial tried to see beyond the frozen water that made up Eternal Lake and swore he thought he saw the angry, imprisoned eyes of the Val`nothe staring back up at him. Just then, something clicked inside Verial. For a brief moment, he felt a connection to the trapped Val`nothe. They had both killed or wanted to kill 'gods'. But more so than that, he felt the anger and helplessness that consumed it. The very raw emotions that chained it and threatened to eat away at whatever soul it had. It was that link that the two beasts shared.

And so, with that fury coursing through his veins, Verial slowly pushed himself up with his muscles aching in protest and made his way walking back to Chaliceton.


By the time Verial returned to Chaliceton and not as a dragon (there was no sense in scaring the whole town), it was nightfall and past dining hours. His footsteps led him right to the Villa and beyond the front two double doors. Inside, Edgar was waiting in the main entry room tidying up furniture in the Villa. Upon seeing Verial though, the older gentleman could not stop his mouth from opening. Verial looked as if he had been in some sort of fight; there were scratch marks on his face and bruises along one side of his torso and neck where he had fallen onto the ice of Eternal Lake. Parts of his clothing were dampened and muddied from the walk back to the Chaliceton, but Verial seemed to pay no mind to these details. He ignored Edgar's open mouthed stare and started up the steps in the Villa's main entrance way until the butler came stuttering after him.

"My Lord, are you okay? What happened to you? Do we need to alert authorities?" Edgar said.

Verial turned back slowly to look at the man as he was a few steps ahead. "No, I'm fine. Horse got spooked and threw me off."

Edgar looked at Verial skeptically not believing a word the Lord of Arthuran had said as it appeared to be more than just a mere horse riding accident. Still, the older man did not pry. Eventually, he let go of a long, drawn out breath and then gestured in the direction of the dining hall.

"Lady Sahar is waiting for you in the dining hall," Edgar said. "She asked me to send you in that direction once you arrive home."

"Not now," Verial said and moved back up the steps once more.

"But, My Lord, what should I-"

"Not now," Verial said looking over his shoulder, his voice projecting more of a growling tone this time. The butler of the Villa backed off and left Verial to his own devices, though it was evident of his disappointment as he walked away shaking his head. Edgar was likely on his way to tell Sahar that Verial would not be joining her due to his foul mood. Whatever way Edgar put it, it wasn't the first concern on Verial's mind.

With every muscle sore from the fall, Verial managed to make it to the top of the stairs. It was not eventual rest that urged him onwards, but an anger that drove him forward and right to Deanna's room. He did not knock, merely opened the door which was thankfully unlocked, and then shut it behind him bolting the door. When he turned about face, Deanna who was now sitting up in her bed, had a look of shock upon her face, her lips opening and closing several times as if she wanted to say something but could not find the words. Her skin was pale, more so than usual and normally Deanna would have flung herself from that bed, but she did not make a move and instead sat on her bed as if trying to process his sudden presence in her room.

Verial held up a hand to silence Deanna before she could get in a word. There was anger in his odd colored eyes and behind that anger, irritation.

"I want the truth from you," Verial said. To this, Verial swore he almost heard Deanna's heartbeat thud a little faster in her chest, but he brushed it off as his imagination and not his sensitive drow hearing. "I've given you nothing but honesty, so I expect the same in return after I ask you what I am going to ask. You tell me that you think its best that you stay in the tavern for both of us. I agree and then you proceed to be upset with me. I can't comprehend if what you said back there were your actual feelings or not. If so - if I actually did make you feel something other than the emptiness that is usually inside you - why would you ever trap me into agreeing to such a thing?"

He paced a few footsteps and then stopped before Deanna's bed, letting out a light laugh. His hands then laced behind his back as right now that was the best place for them.

"Were you purposely trying to bait me, to allow yourself to believe that I am actually in love with my sister and that I'm having some sort of affair with her? Do you think me capable of such a thing? Is it because I was so quick to lay with Sharay that you might be under the assumption I just throw myself along to whoever is there?"

Verial shook his head and his brows narrowed. "Did it ever occur that maybe I sent Maiwen away because I did not want you to see how angry I was with her? That I did not want you to see me throw her out into the hallway? And that maybe... I've been keeping you at arm's length because I respect you and don't want to fuel Maiwen's sick, perverse need to be a voyeur? But no, you've come to the conclusion that I'm fucking my sister. After all, I suppose that is the simplest solution."

"I want to know, what am I to you?"

(Chat logs from 12.11.12.)

Deanna DiCorvino
Deanna seriously considered the heart attack she was presently having as a blessing in disguise, and prayed for a swift death as Verial entered her room. She had been reading up on herbal lore, the uses of certain plants for certain situations, her stomach finally settling for the day when the Lord of Arthuran, in all of his fury, forced himself in and bolted the door behind him. Quickly Deanna slid the book under the covers, having marked a particular page, her eyes wide and fearful as she tried unsucessfully several times to speak, to question his presence which was if truth were told, terrifying. He was a wreck, physically and obviously emotionally, but it was the look in his face, more specifically those odd colored eyes of his that froze her solid upon her bed. When Verial demanded the truth out of her, Deanna considered bolting and running from the room, even if she had to break down the fucking door to escape. She did not even consider how Sahar had obviously broke her vow to Deanna, for how was she supposed to reveal painful truths to Verial? Realizing she had little choice in the matter, her body trembled with fear of his reaction and her lips parted so that she might speak, so that she might explain...but Verial continued his speech and his truth had nothing to do with what she had been dreading, what she had swore to hide. She almost laughed then, that shaky laugh that had been bubbling in her throat, but now was not the time to express her relief. She uttered not a single word as he spoke his hurt, his anger at her, as he questioned her intentions and her actions. It took everything in her power not to lower her gaze, to look anywhere but at him. Whatever relief she felt earlier was quickly replaced with a new kind of panic that filled her. Truths. Verial wanted, no demanded, truths. From her. How could she express her honesty now, when there was so much at risk? As far as she was concerned, whatever hope there might have been was snuffed out the moment she arrived home ill, the moment Sahar had that little heart to heart with her. Verial could never know, for Deanna knew it would destroy him just it as it was destroying her, perhaps moreso. He had finished speaking, she realized, and Deanna let out a shaky breath as she slid from under the covers and stood on wobbly legs. She held onto the side table for support until she found her footing, and only when she was absolutely positive the queasy feeling her stomach felt earlier had passed, did she make any attempt to walk the few feet to where he stood. The nightgown she was wearing earlier had been soiled by her vomitting, so Deanna was clad in another owned by Sahar, and thankfully it reached almost to her knees. Deanna bit down on her lip, considering how best to answer his questions, when inspiration struck her. She could have responsed in a violent and hatefilled manner. She could have demanded him to leave her room. She did none of these as she strode past him to her bathing area where she found a clean washrag and ran it under water, wringing it out thoroughly before returning to Verial and with a gentle push of her hand upon his shoulder, forced him to sit down upon the bed. Amazingly he actually did as she silently bid, and with great care, Deanna dabbed at the cuts and scrapes that decorated various areas of his face, in particular a nasty one near his temple. As she tended to his wounds as gently as possible, she spoke for the first time, her words as soft as her her movements. "What you are, to me, is Lord of Arthuran. What you are, to me, is the one who risked everything to save my life, and I hate you for it, now more than ever." She did not meet his eyes as she spoke, instead focusing on the rawness of his injuries. "I ask forgiveness for presuming what I did regarding Maiwen. I should have...known better I suppose, but...you must understand...," Deanna sighed, unable to properly express how she was feeling, and figuring it wasn't worth the effort anyway. Hoping to steer the coversation away from her and her personal feelings, Deanna tilted his head back some so she could tend to a particularly nasty cut on his chin. "Considering that I did not bloody you...this time....," she tried to smile but failed, "...I'd ask what happened to you in my attempt to avoid the conversation you seem so insistant upon having."

Verial Akilara
After a few minutes, Deanna did not speak in response to his demands and many questions. Instead, she slid away from her bed and made an attempt to stand, which was something Verial noticed she struggled with. Her hand went to the side table for support and her knees shook a bit until Deanna was once again able to find her footing and walk. Verial watched her with something other than anger in that moment; it was interest. Since when did Deanna become sick and what from? Still, he did not bother to question her apparent illness when she walked past him to her bathing room, bringing back with her a damp cloth. With a gentle push of her hand upon his shoulder, to which Verial winced slightly because of his bruises, he went grudgingly and sat down on her bed. Deanna brought the washcloth to his face and began to tend to the cuts that marred his features. It was something Sahar usually did and was uncharacteristic of Deanna. There was a part of Verial that was touched... almost. His head was titled back some by Deanna's hand so she could inspect him more and it seemed that she was ever cautious of avoiding his gaze. Verial, however, kept his eyes on her. "Why do you hate me for it?" Verial said. Some reasons were obvious and he understood, but Verial thought there was more to it than Deanna was letting on. His hands slid to his sides and then moved upwards to lace together in his lap. Verial pulled his head away from her hand then and looked directly into her gaze for a fraction of a few seconds before she could avoid him again. "I can forgive you for your assumptions about my relationship with Maiwen, or lack thereof, but I do not understand. I need to know. I'm sure you think you are not capable of properly expressing yourself, but I don't believe that." At her attempt to change the subject, Verial let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "I fell." It sounded like an excuse, but it was true.

Deanna DiCorvino
Whatever softness Deanna had previously expressed toward Verial and his injuries slid away revealing that carefully placed mask of icy hardness she had spent years perfecting. Deanna tossed the bloodied washrag on the nightstand and regarded him with her cold amber gaze. "I hate you because my very existence is nothing short of a cosmic tragedy that I am painfully reminded of every day, because you chose to keep me alive. I hate you because your actions have brought...consequences, as have mine and they will forever change me...us." Each word was laced with bitter poison and she spat them at him, her hands curled into fists, ignoring the twisting of her gut as she continued on without mercy. "I thought, stupidly I might add, that since fate so cruelly decreed for you to by my 'savior' despite all that has happened between us, that somehow, for some reason...we...," Deanna shook her head angrily. "Forget it. It doesn't matter what I thought. I care for you no more than you care for me, which boils down to 'pity sex' on some guilted level." Deanna turned away from him and padded on barefeet over to her window so she could throw open the shutters and look out at the starry night sky. "I don't care what you believe where it concerns me, Verial. As far as I am concerned, we are both liars and damn good ones. Leave it at that, Lord Akilara, and do not worry yourself over where I decide to bed myself at night."

Verial Akilara
He could not tell if Deanna was being intentionally cruel to mask other emotions she might have felt, since being cold and hateful was something she had obviously perfected. Either way, it did not matter to Verial because with her bitter and resentful words the damage had been done. Verial laughed a little as she spoke, the sound scoffing. For a moment, he finally looked at anywhere else besides Deanna - at his boots, the floor, the wall. "Of course. How could I be so stupid? To think I might have meant something else... I am no hero and I never strove to be yours." His words were spoken through clenched teeth. It would have been a perfect time to leave - to gather himself and head right out of Deanna's room. But something Deanna said made his head snap up in response. She simply stated that their feelings for each other were based on the mere thought of pity sex. Verial had sworn he told her before he cared about her, but he guessed that was just more water under their bridge that was about to be submerged. And then when Deanna turned from him, almost dismissively, to gaze outside the window, something inside of him snapped. In the middle of her sentence about the two of them being nothing more than liars, Verial stood. Verial reached to his side at his waist and drew from his belt a dagger that he had taken with him on his ride today. He strode towards Deanna and grasping her shoulder with his other hand, turned her and then pinned her up against the side of the wall next to the window. The blade went against Deanna's throat, the coldness of the metal pressed against her skin. There was some new emotion in Verial's odd colored eyes as he stared at her. "I never wanted you to die, Deanna, but now I'm not so sure. You've pretty much convinced me that you're fucking miserable no matter what I do. I can kill you now, but I want you to know this. I would not be killing you out of hatred or vengeance; it's out of pity."

Deanna DiCorvino
She was grateful her hair covered most of her face so he would not see her wince at the bitter words hissed through his clenched teeth. She had hurt him, she knew it, and it it tore at her to do so. Every word spoken tonight had contradicted whatever truth she had given to Verial earlier. New light had been shed on the situation, the game had changed, and with that came the lies she had so convincingly thrown at him. They were meant to protect him, for his own sanity, and even though it hurt Deanna to cause him so much pain, she knew it was for his own good. One day he would thank her even, if he ever spoke to her again. "You don't know what you're saying," she murmured quietly to herself as she heard him move, presumably to leave. What happened next was not even something she could have predicted. One moment she was staring out the window, masking every bit of emotion she felt course through her, and the next thing she knew, Verial was inches from her as he pinned her against the wall. She saw the flash of metal too late before she felt the coldness of steel bite against sensitive flesh. Torn between shock and outrage, fear and fury, Deanna reached out with both hands to grab handfulls of the ruined shirt he wore to pull him closer, forcing his head downward so that he had little choice but to stare into those fiery orbs. "Then stop fucking talking about it and do it," she lashed out at him, contempt filling her voice. "Do it! Revenge, hatred, pity, you think I care? I don't. Maybe once but not now. Never now." Keeping one hand clenched in his shirt, she raised her other hand to fit over his that held the dagger, her fingers sliding over his so that she pressed the blade harder against her throat drawing a thin ribbon of blood. "Do it," her voice lowered as she baited him while she inched closer so that her lips brushed against his. "Verial please," her voice grew less steady as she released her grip on his shirt to thread her fingers through the dark hair that hung at the nape of his neck.

Verial Akilara
There was some part of Verial that thought perhaps the idea of him actually killing Deanna would be some sort of threat. That maybe when the steel of the blade was pressed against her throat that something - anything - would have mattered to Deanna. If she was hurt, angry or surprised by his actions, Verial didn't know it. As usual, Verial saw nothing more than a hollow shell of a woman before him. Instead of trying to escape the dagger that was against her neck, Deanna inched towards it, pulling Verial closer by grabbing his shirt. Her hand lifted, fitting over his to press the blade harder against her throat so a small trickle of blood was drawn. Verial's eyes lowered to watch as the blood made a slow trail down Deanna's neck and across her collar bone. During this, Deanna's lips brushed against his own and he was left momentarily stunned and frozen to the spot as if not knowing what to do. Between such an intimate action and her pleading with him to actually kill her, he didn't know how to respond. After several seconds however, Verial seemed to wake back up. He pulled back on the dagger, wrenching free from Deanna's hand and took the blade away from her neck, slamming it into the wall behind her above her shoulder. Verial leaned towards Deanna's ear and whispered one single word, his voice bitter, "No." With that, he took a step backwards from her, as if making a motion to leave.

Deanna DiCorvino
There was a shred of hope that Verial would actually go through with it, but that hope faded the moment he drew the dagger from her throat to impale it into the wall. Deanna closed her eyes and lowered her head as he whispered "No," and stepped away, her face crumpling with the pain and torment she felt. Tears burned behind her eyelids but it was her own life's blood that slid slowly down the hollow of her throat, winding its way down to the dragon scale that hung between her breasts. The thin circular obsidian object burned hot against her skin, a reflection of the misery inflicted in both Verial and herself. Deanna opened eyes to stare at him and though she kept as much revealed as possible, there was no denying the anguish she bore in her features, in the one simple word that was asked. "Why?"

Verial Akilara
From the moment Verial took a step away from her, Deanna's possible death out of the question for the night, Verial saw an evident look of disappointment on her face. Her head lowered to hide the pain she bore since the remainder of her blood would not be spilt. Verial watched as the trail of blood eventually began to stain the collar of the night gown she wore, the crimson liquid seeping past the clothing to trail lazily between her breasts where his scale hung on a thin, leather cord. It was Deanna's amber gaze that finally made him lift his head again, anger now marring her features. Her lips parted and she asked him "Why?" Why would he not kill her? Why would Verial not grant her this one thing? He looked at her, blinking a few times as if in disbelief, as if couldn't comprehend that she didn't know. The words were out of his lips faster than he could stop himself. "Because I love you." And after he had finished his sentence, he realized the words he had just said and wished he had said anything else but that. He would have settled for cursing at her in draconic, but no - the truth just came right out. To make it worse, instead of fleeing the scene (which might have been the best thing to do), Verial stood as if expecting some sort of response.

Deanna DiCorvino
She asked. He had answered as honest and heartfelt as he could, and all she could do was to look away, her teeth sinking down on her lower lip. She had to still her hands as they drifted toward her midsection, and so badly did she want to tell him the truth. Why she was pushing him away. Why she did not deem herself worthy of existing. Several times her lips parted to speak, and just when she thought she had worked up enough bravado, fear reigned her in. Fear of how he would react, fear of his disgust, but most of all, fear he would be accepting, and in that fact, want for her to as well. She couldn't. She was simply a shell to house an unwanted entity, an entity that may contain her biological matter, but its entire reason for being was all Sharay's. It was not fair. Not to her, not to him. So what choice did she have but to turn him away? The silence ticked by slowly from the moment Verial told her her he loved her and she still had yet to say anything. Did she not love him back? Did she not feel love for him? Deanna considered, seriously considered how she felt and determined the answer was no. She did not simply love Verial. It was more than that. She needed him. He was her air, for without it, she could not draw breath so her heart could beat. Verial was her counterpart, her other half. She knew this now. For so long she had believed it was Maxim Redmont who held that honor, but Deanna realized she could very well exist without Maxim no matter how much he had hurt her. She knew that was not the case with Verial. They had bonded whether willing or not, and that went beyond the boundaries of love. "When we travelled to Tezzra's Gorge," she began quietly, her head turning slowly to look at him. "You were infected by Elijah. I knew you were dying and wanted nothing more than a cure, but...," she looked down then, ashamed by her next words. "I thought to myself that if...if I bit you...if I infected you, that maybe my blood would counteract the effects of Elijah's." Her hands having minds of their own, rested upon her abdomen which wasn't something out of the norm, but meant a great deal more to Deanna. "I was going to do it, bite you that is, without your permission and hope for the best. I hoped to save you, but...more than that," she lifted her gaze once more and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I thought if I did that, not only would it save you, but you would be...like me. That you would share my bloodline, and you might...have been with me." It was a shameful thing to admit for she had been with Quinn at the time, but the moment Deanna had tasted Verial's blood, as foul as it was, she knew then she had tasted home. "I didn't though, because it wasn't the right thing to do. Because you would have hated me, and I did not want to risk that." Why the confession of something that happenend so long enough and was not even significant in their relationship? She pushed away from the wall and walked to where he stood in silence. "You love me, Verial?" She reached up and cupped his face within her hands. "You shouldn't," was all she said before lowering his head so that her lips met his and she did everything possible not to shed the tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

Verial Akilara
After the silence between them strained on, Verial moved a foot backwards. Even as he watched Deanna contemplating over his words, taking in the details of those three little magical and tragic words, Verial had it in his mind to turn around and walk away. Part of him didn't want to know what Deanna was going to say. If he had to be honest with himself, he didn't know if Deanna's reaction mattered all that much. Whether she actually hated him, felt the same or was just neutral, it was beginning to sink in the reason he had told her the truth was because he was not sure if in the future if he would remember that he did love Deanna. Verial was always on the brink, on a teetering edge between who he actually was and the angry and hollow person he was withering away to. And now that she knew, though Verial still wished he had held his tongue, there was a considerable weight off of his shoulders. All these thoughts were interrupted when Deanna began to finally speak and it was about their time in Tezzra's Gorge. Verial bit his lower lip, taking in the secrets that she was telling him about their journey back then. When Deanna was done explaining this, Verial released the hold on his lip but he did not look ashamed at her. Instead, there was mild surprise written on his face. Though she had not returned his sentiments with the same words, perhaps Deanna was subtly saying there was part of Verial that made her feel like she belonged somewhere which was good enough for him. She crossed the room, standing before Verial and asked him again if he loved her. "Yes, I do." Verial leaned slightly towards her as the palms of her hands cupped his face. "I know." There was something in him that wanted to apologize for some reason, but instead, Verial closed his odd colored eyes and kissed her back, allowing his arms to lower and wrap around Deanna's waist pulling her closer to him. As Deanna's chest would press against his own, for however brief or long the moment was, Verial held onto her as if she were part of him and indeed, more so than either of them realized, she was.

Edgar was nearly finished with his nightly chores and dreaming of a good book and a finer brandy drink when his Lord entered late in the evening. The older gentleman had been waiting for Verial as promised to the Lady Sahar, but upon viewing the Lord's appearance, the manservant nearly forgot about the lovely desert woman's instructions and chased after Verial in concern. The Lord of Arthuran had given some feeble excuse of his horse throwing him off, but Edgar wasn't born yesterday and knew a lie when he heard one.

Still, he held his tongue and did not pry as he figured once he informed the Lady Sahar of the Lord's physical state, the healer would take charge of the situation. He admired Sahar's fearless way of handling situations, and seeing Verial in the mood he was in, Edgar knew he was in no way equally matched to handle Verial especially after several attempts to relocate Verial into the dining hall where the Lady Sahar had waited all night for him. Nothing was going to sway the Lord, and frankly Edgar was in a state of shock with the curt and rather cold manner Verial had responded to him with.

Edgar watched in silence as Verial headed upstairs without another word, but the manservant could see in the way he walked that the Lord was in a great deal of pain. The elder man sighed and turned away to find Sahar, knowing it was going to be a long night ahead of both of them.

“I'm getting too old for this,” he grumbled to himself, wishing he had had a drink or two first before delivering the news.

Sahar was discussing menu plans for the upcoming Masquerade Ball when Edgar entered the dining hall with a long suffering look upon his face. The desert beauty finished going over some last minute changes with the cook before dismissing her so that she might give Edgar her full attention, her dark brows drawn together as she frowned. “I'm guessing Lord Verial is home, but isn't in the mood to deal with me right now, is that correct?” Edgar sighed and briefed Sahar on the “Verial Situation” as he termed it. Sahar's frown deepened and she pushed her chair away from the table to stand as she listened. “And he went straight upstairs? He was able to make it by himself?”

Edgar nodded wearily. “Lady, he was a man on a mission, an angry man I might add. There was no way I was going to stop him. Judging by the look of him, he would have torn my head clean from my shoulders.”

Sahar offered Edgar a small smile and pat him on the arm reassuringly. “As if I would allow that to happen, dear Edgar. Perhaps the Lord truly did fall from his horse and is simply angry at himself and that poor creature. I shall find out right now.” Sahar smoothed the deep rose gown she wore and adjusted her head scarf as she drifted in the hallway toward the stairs with Edgar hot on her heels. The older man, bless his heart, was not about to allow Sahar to confront Verial on her own and insisted on accompanying her as some sort of backup. Sahar chuckled but did not send him away and the two of them climbed the stairs until they reached Verial's quarters.

Sahar knocked once and waited. When there was no response, alarm bells went off in her head and she attempted another knock which resulted in continued silence. “My Lord? I'm coming in.” Sahar called out, fearful that perhaps Verial had fainted or something worse as a result of his injuries. Both healer and manservant walked inside the room, stopping short when there was no sign of Verial. “My Lord?” Sahar hurried over toward the bathing room, worry evident in her movements and her tone of voice, but again she found the room empty. Confused, she turned to face Edgar. “You are sure he came upstairs?”

Edgar nodded briskly, confused as well as to Verial's whereabouts. “Indeed Sahar. He was quite irate and agitated in his behavior.”

Sahar stood in the room as she pondered where Verial could have gone off, when her honeyed gaze suddenly widened. “Oh gods,” she sucked in a sharp breath. “I know where he is.” Inwardly Sahar groaned and prayed for strength. If the Lord of Arthuran was where she thought he would be, then there would be hell to pay concerning Deanna. How he had found out was beyond her, for Sahar had told no one. Edgar peered at her with confusion, but Sahar just shook her head. “Edgar, you don't want to know, believe me. Just prepare yourself for...anything.”

Sahar rushed from the room and her long legs carried her swiftly down the hallway until she stopped suddenly at the door that led to Deanna's room, Edgar glued to her side and her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she tried the door only to find it bolted shut. “This is bad..so very bad,” she whispered and was prepared to bang on the door when Edgar grabbed at her arm to stop her. Puzzled Sahar stared wildly at him, wondering why he had done so when the older man shook his head.“Do you hear that?” he asked as softly as possible and the two of them leaned in so they could press their ears against the wood of the door.

Seconds ticked by and then Sahar's expression went from concerned to wonderment. “Oh...my...,” she said in hushed tones, trying not to laugh at the astonished Edgar who blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was hearing. “Is this something new or...?”

Sahar hushed him with a slice of her hand and shook her head, rolling her eyes. “If only,” she muttered and he chuckled darkly as Sahar swatted him on the arm and indicated for him to be silent. “Quiet, they'll hear you!”

“With all that noise she's making?” Edgar chortled as he pressed his ear against the door once more and nodded in approval, trying hard not to laugh. “Well done, sir.” Edgar murmured as he glanced at Sahar who stared at him in shock. “What?” He whispered. “Good for him!”

Sahar clamped her hands over her mouth. “Edgar!” She hissed and tried to drag him away. “We shouldn't be listening to this! It's wrong!”

Edgar nodded vigorously. “Oh I agree. Completely unprofessional,” but the elder man made no move to leave, and unable to help herself, Sahar followed him as both had their heads plastered to the door once more. “Rather loud, aren't they?” He commented and that drew silent giggles from Sahar. A few moments passed before she whispered, “Was that her or him? It's hard to tell.” Edgar pressed his lips together, his eyes squinty and listened intently. “Him I think....oh wait....yes, that was him. Was that a growl? Oh...heh...heh...we should go now,” Edgar was turning red as he struggled against the laughing fit that was threatening to overtake him and he grabbed Sahar by the arm and dragged her away.

It wasn't until the two conspirators were downstairs in the kitchen did they look at each other and busted out in hysterics until the tears ran down their faces and they shook with mirth. “Now that,” Edgar panted as he wiped at his eyes, “was priceless. I shall never look at the Lord or Lady Amelia in the same way again.” He quipped until Sahar slapped at his shoulder between fits of giggles. “Edgar! We heard nothing!" The older man snorted as he rummaged through the cupboards for the bottle of brandy and two glasses. “Of course not.” He poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to Sahar who saluted him. “Our secret,” he winked and grinning at each other, they drank.

***

Sahar and her partner in crime were up rather early preparing for the day, and as Edgar was instructing the servants on their chores, Sahar was busying herself with a breakfast tray to take to Deanna's room. Freshly baked cranberry muffins were placed on a small plate as well as tea...for two. The healer assumed that Verial had spent the night since she had not heard him sneaking back to his room in the middle of the night. As she passed Edgar in the hall with tray in hand, they shared a conspiratory grin as Sahar carried herself upstairs and balancing the tray in one hand, knocked on Deanna's door.

She heard shuffling and waited for a minute or two until the door opened and Deanna stood clad in a robe, her brow raised at Sahar. The desert beauty smiled sweetly at the sleepy eyed woman who glanced at the tray before settling her gaze upon Sahar, a quirk of her lips. “You two left before he started with the Draconian. Should have stuck around for that.” Sahar had the grace to look embarrassed at being caught and mentally chastised herself for forgetting Lord Verial's enhanced drow hearing. Flushed, Sahar handed Deanna the tray. “I heard he sustained injuries before uh, paying you a visit. Does he still live or have you sucked the life out of him?” The healer inquired tartly.

Deanna snickered and shifted to the side so that the healer could clearly see the Lord lying face down in bed, his head buried against a pillow. “Good morning, my Lord. I trust when you are ready you will pay me a visit so that I might tend to your wounds?” Sahar called out cheerfully to Verial who grunted something unintelligible and waved a hand in agreement. Sahar took that as her cue to leave and as Deanna set the tray down upon the side table, paused and beckoned her silently over who frowned and stepped into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her.

Sahar looked Deanna over before asking as quietly as she could, “How are you feeling?” The amber eyed woman waved a hand back and forth in a so-so fashion, and Sahar nodded as she continued prodding, “Did you tell-?” Deanna shook her head no which drew a sigh from Sahar and a look of chastisement. The healer considered lecturing her again, but the look Deanna gave her as if anticipating such caused Sahar to bite her tongue. “Very well. Remind the Lord I still need to speak to him concerning the Ball and I really must tend to him." Sahar mustered a smile toward Deanna before leaving to return downstairs.

The healer had hoped with the new year approaching, perhaps things would finally settle down and they could all lead a life of normalcy. Obviously this was not to be, but a woman could hope couldn't she? Sahar ran a hand over her brow and considered taking up serious binge drinking as part of her New Year's Resolution having a feeling it would be the only way she was going to be able to deal with the Lord once the shit hit the fan.

The first rays of pale silvery light that streamed through her window was what caused Deanna's eyes to slowly open as she left the deep slumber of a restful sleep. For once there had not been any nightmares to tear at her dreams, nightmares that would pull her shaking and afraid into the world of reality where she would sit up and wait for her heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm of beat. For one night she had slept soundly and deeply only to awaken rested if not slightly nauseated.

She was lying on her side facing the opened window, still in that foggy state of confusion as the realm of sleep was trying oh so subtly to tug her back, fighting against the state of awake. Even though the shutters had been left wide open to allow the chill of the morning air to enter her bedroom and her blankets had somehow tangled around her waist during the night, she did not feel cold with her bare skin exposed. The slumbering figure beside her breathing soft and deep even breaths radiated enough warmth to keep her body temperature comfortable. Oddly, Verial Akilara generated enough body heat to act as her own personal heated blanket. Perhaps it was the dragon in him, but being therianthrope (though since the loss of her hyena, Deanna wasn't exactly sure what flavor of animal she was even though logic dictated she had inherited Sharay's tiger) herself allowed Deanna to maintain her own sense of warmth against the cold. Having Verial around was a bonus as Deanna truly loathed the frigid temperatures of Arthuran. In some strange way, she was as much of a child of the sun as the desert born Sahar.

Deanna used the quiet period of time to muse over recent events that surrounded Verial and herself. Since her talk with Sahar who had examined her and found that she was breeding (much to her astonishment and dismay), Deanna had done nothing for the remainder of the day prior to Verial's arrival late in the evening but conceive (heh) of ideas how to rid herself of the abomination growing in her womb. Such an occurrence should not have been possible considering Deanna had been told near a decade earlier when she had tragically lost the child she was carrying by her then husband Davian, that she would no longer be able to bear children. Her body simply would not allow it as the miscarriage had damaged her internally as far as the Goddess of Chaos and Death's priests were concerned. Deanna, even at such a young age, had stoically born that truth with understanding and honestly had thought nothing of it until now. As far as she was concerned it was impossible for her to become pregnant, and when Sahar had informed her she was, Deanna was caught between hysterical laughter and requesting a blade with which to slice her wrists.

Because of her unique genetic makeup (and the fact it was goddess-like intervention that had caused such an anomaly), Sahar had to assume exactly how far along this unwanted parasite had progressed in growth. Deanna had no true knowledge of gestation within human beings, having been nearly a child herself during her first pregnancy, so she relied on Sahar's expertise. As far as the healer was concerned she estimated Deanna was a third of the way through for a normal human pregnancy, but having very little knowledge on therianthropes and their breeding patterns, the desert woman could not be sure of her calculations regarding when this abomination was due. It was a guessing game for both women, and immediately Deanna had decided to put a stop to it by requesting Sahar assist in termination by any means possible, which was rejected by the healer who swore to preserve life, all life, at all costs. Deanna was on her own.

Deanna was having a crisis of conscious this morning as she knew she simply couldn't destroy something that was part of someone whom she loved deeply, but ultimately knew in her heart she was not capable of caring for or loving something that, in her eyes, did not belong to her to begin with. There had to be another way. She was in the process of reviewing other options when she felt warm fingertips gliding down her bare spine, and suddenly all thoughts of evil spawn flew out of her head. Deanna smiled softly and turned so that she faced Verial who regarded her with his heavy lidded odd colored eyes.

However long they remained in complete silence, Deanna could not say. Words were unnecessary to express thoughts or emotions, so they relied on none. Gentle fingers traced the contours of their faces, traveled slowly across each others skin and on occasion was the brush of lips to accompany the lightest of touches. In that time they had perfectly mapped each others body, had discovered every curve, every imperfection, and in one case, Verial had found out much to his devious delight that Deanna was slightly ticklish near her ribs...well...more than slightly, and he nearly received a broken nose for his efforts. Her muffled laughter as he dodged her swinging fist was the only break in their comfortable silence as they lay perfectly happy in bed, neither expressing any desire to join the rest of the world. Deanna knew her time here in Chaliceton with Verial was short, and therefore was determined to savor each and every moment she had with him before she deemed it time to leave.

Verial had shifted on top of her, wincing in pain as he obviously had forgotten about the trauma his body had received earlier, but that did not deter him from lowering his head to kiss her, and she obliged by wrapping her legs around his waist. He had just found both of her hands and was lacing his fingers with hers when they heard the knock upon her door. Simultaneously, they turned their heads toward the sound, and Deanna murmured, “Sahar,” as Verial groaned and nodded his confirmation. With a chuckle, she wiggled her way out from under him as Verial slammed his head into the pillow and muttered curses and oaths, some even in the common tongue. Making sure at least his lower half was covered, Deanna slipped into her robe and padded over to the door where indeed Sahar stood with a tray in hand.

Deanna chose with obvious glee, to inform the healer that indeed both she and Verial had heard her and Edgar last night listening at the door, the sneaks they were, fighting to smile as the color rose in Sahar's cheeks. Deanna did find Sahar's next inquiry rather amusing regarding the life sucked out of the Lord and graciously stepped aside so that the healer could see that her beloved Verial still breathed, though barely, and much to his discomfort Verial half waved to confirm Deanna hadn't managed to kill him yet.

She had taken the tray and set it down when the healer requested to speak to her privately in the hall, and Deanna mentally groaned as she knew why. Dutifully she answered Sahar's questions, the anger in her amber orbs evident as she cut Sahar off from further discussion. Now was not the time to get into such matters, if at all. Deanna still had no intention of revealing anything to Verial regarding her predicament. It was for the best. It is to protect him, she told herself repeatedly, and though clearly unhappy with the situation, Sahar reluctantly gave in and left.

When Deanna reentered her room, she found Verial sitting up in bed with part of a muffin in hand as he crammed the last bit into his mouth. With a shake of her head, Deanna laughed at him as she poured two cups of tea, her stomach still too tender for the consumption of food. Deanna brought the teacups over toward the bed and set them on the nightstand, but did not offer Verial his. Instead she carefully climbed on top of him and straddled his waist as she lowered her gaze to regard his injuries and even allowed her hand to trail gently across the swollen red and purple skin, the light touch still causing him pain as Verial jerked from under her hand, hissing in a breath. Deanna frowned at him and withdrew her hand, resting it upon his chest instead.

“I promised Sahar I would send you her way when I was finished with you.” The tilt of her lips expressing she was far from doing so, and her smirk grew as she watched Verial glance mournfully at the muffins and steaming fragrant tea. “You must be starving, poor thing. ” The mocking tone of Deanna's voice indicated her lack of pity for Verial. “You can eat, but first...,” she leaned forward to place a kiss on his lips. “You're going to tell me exactly how you managed to wreck yourself, and Verial, don't waste your breath trying to bullshit me with some lame excuse that you 'fell'. You're not some battered housewife living in fear of her abusive husband to come up with such a blatant lie. Especially not to me.” She shifted upon his lap and adjusted her robe for comfort. “The truth, Verial, and then I will let you eat.” She smiled wickedly then. “Maybe.”