RP:Funeral Pyre

From HollowWiki

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc


Note: This RP comes before Dagger in the Dark.

Summary: Khitti begins to despair again despite all the work she's done and the progress she's made towards her goal of getting rid of Amarrah. Seeking a temporary release from everything, she dons that silver necklace once more and shocks herself with an item taken from Raiez's cave. This places her in another dream, years later than the last one that both her and Brand had experienced. Not long after, Amarrah takes hold of her in her weakened and unconscious state. Brand returns home eventually and immediately notices something's off.

Rented Room (Frostmaw Tavern)

The week following the atrocities Amarrah had committed and Khitti’s loss in the tournament had been a long one. Misery had once again become a permanent addition in the vampiress’ life and now more so than ever did she crave those happy times that the vision, brought on by the necklace, sent to Khitti and Brand. It may not have been real, but it’d been damn close. Brand, who’d gone off elsewhere for now, had said that it’d never happen, that she should’ve known they could never have a life like that. They were both doomed to die in combat as good little soldiers usually do. This realization only made things worse, and she’d ignored it up until now. Now, she was doing her best to move on, but those thoughts lingered as she washed her face in the basin in the side room. Verdant eyes stared back at her, her reflection just as equally saddened, frustrated, and exhausted as its real world counterpart.

The sleep deprivation had been overwhelming, darkly painted and lined eyelids flickered shut as she fought to stay awake. Between the veil of the waking world and dreams, images of that vision, and the dream she’d had in Raiez’s cave as well the few bits Brand had showed her of his own, glided across that mirror’s silvery surface. Everything she could’ve ever wanted was in that world and only now did she realize that it was happening again--this hadn’t been the first time she’d seen these images, as they were the reason for her sleeplessness now. Khitti stirred herself awake again, tears flowing freely as she raised a fist in the air and punched the mirror with an angry scream. Spiderweb-like cracks spread throughout the surface, a few large shards from the impact falling to the floor. She didn’t care if she’d have to pay for it, she just needed the memories to go away.

Both hands, bloodied and not, remained balled up into fists as she headed into the other room, the tears neverending. Khitti retrieved that broken necklace from the pocket of her duster and put it on, but...nothing happened. More uncontrolled crying continued once she realized she didn’t have the means of sparking it to life. The jar of objects from Raiez’s cave was remembered, and she was soon tearing through it on the floor in front of the bed to find something enchanted with lightning magic. An odd obsidian wand with a skull on the end that sparked at Khitti’s touch was found after what seemed like forever, the redhead’s lips twisting into a frown as she brought the skull-end of the rod to the necklace and gave it a shock much stronger than what Brand had produced. A scream would be heard floating down the staircase as the necklace’s defense mechanism sprung to life again, digging its claws into Khitti. The smell of ozone drifted about the room as Khitti collapsed onto the floor, unconscious once more thanks to that bit of jewelry.

“Peach. Hey, peach. ... Hey, c’mon, you can’t sleep here, your back’ll get all screwy again.” Gentle hands were at Khitti’s shoulders, trying to rouse her. Khitti would awake slouched over at the end of a wooden pew, chin tucked to her chest. That voice, familiar and yet not, would fade in as she gained consciousness. It was tight with restrained emotion, as soft as the accompanying hands were gentle, as if its owner expected her to break apart if not handled lightly. The smell of incense wafted in from a distance, fifteen pews ahead of her. As Khitti managed to groggily open her eyes, murmuring some indication of life, Brand would come around to her front and take her hands in his. Thumbs would pass over the backs of her hands in repetitive motion, attempting to massage all worry out of her. He sank to his haunches, misty green eyes peering up at her. His hair was thinned at the temples, and white hairs were sprinkled in amongst the reds and blondes. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you back to the hotel. I kept tellin’ you you couldn’t deny sleep forever...”

The redhead (well, she was starting to grey much like Brand was, but she likely would’ve denied it as most women tend to do) shook her head, as if that was going to shut Brand up so she could go back to sleep. “What…? Brand...Lemme...lemme go back to sleep.” She let out an angry, tired sigh finally then opened her eyes, setting her sights on the male in front of her through squinted eyelids. “Where are we…?” Khitti pulled one hand out of his, using it to rub the sleep away from her face with another sigh. Her other, unoccupied one gets a better grip on at least one of his hands and gives it a squeeze as if to say ‘yes, yes I’m awake’.

A young redhead in a formal black dress arrived at Brand’s left, exchanging with him some meaningful glance. She seemed about to voice a question, but Brand was quick to cut her off before she could ask it. “Merida, go get your sister, would you? Tell her to get the car warmed up and brought around front, an’ we’ll be out in a minute.”

Merida’s response was to deepen the frown on her lips and stalk off again. She’d definitely inherited her father’s pout. Brand waited for her to be out of sight to make another attempt at bringing Khitti to consciousness. “C’mon, peach. We’re gonna have Meg drive us there, okay? Do you want --” Brand hit some sort of wall and fell mute. He could only direct Khitti’s attention to the front of the church, where the incense still smoked. The platform was all lined with flowers in yellows and reds and blues, a burst of color cleaved in two by the obsidian altar and the dozens of white tulips atop it. Off to one side was displayed a portrait of Dominic just as he might appear in Lithrydel, all messy bangs and the faintest smile upon his lips. Brand’s gaze lingered on the casket just beside it while he tried to find the will to complete that most awful of sentences. “Do you... want to say goodbye one last time?”

Something in Khitti stirred as Brand directed her attention towards the front of the building. There was definitely remembrance of the -why- she was here, but there was something else too. Besides that mother’s love for her child that came with this world’s Khitti and the heartbreak that tore now at the inside of her chest, there was utter and absolute dread that poured over from the Lithrydel side. The redhead’s face drained of all color as she stared at the casket with wide eyes from afar. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable, especially around Brand, and pushed away from him, sliding out of her seat and stepping into the walkway. If he tried to move behind her, or even near her, she’d move away again, heading slowly up the path to those flowers. Dominic...was gone? One step. Dominic was gone. Two steps. Dead. Three. Forever. Four. She’ll never see him again. Five. This continued on in Khitti’s head until she came to a stop, just a few feet from the casket itself. It hadn’t occurred to her until just now that she’d started crying along that long walk to the front, the tears streaking make-up down her cheeks as they pooled under her chin.

Brand followed behind at a distance, his footsteps slow and heavy. He’d not peered into the casket before, and had no intention of doing so now. That… thing in there, that wasn’t his son. His son was the kid who chased after butterflies and ice cream trucks, the teen who locked himself away painting or drawing for hours on end, the introverted young graduate student who’d burst into a monologue of enthusiasm the second he was asked about his thesis. This particular apple couldn’t have fallen further from the tree, but not in a bad way, he’d thought. Dominic had been so full of passion for all the little things in life Brand never would have thought twice about otherwise. So how could he have --?

“Chauffeur says time to go.” Megara stood paces behind both her parents in a bright, printed summer dress completely inappropriate for both the occasion and the weather. Where Merida was almost a carbon copy of Khitti, Meg had taken great pains to differentiate herself from her twin sister and their mother as much as possible. Large cat-eye glasses partially obscured her smoky eye makeup, as well as the fact that she was avoiding eye contact. Her hair had been dyed black (Brand hadn’t had the heart to spoil her rebellion and reveal that her mother had done the same at that age) and was bound back in a tight braid. She was fidgeting with the end of it now that Brand had turned his gaze on her; she’d clearly been waiting the entire day to be berated for her manner of dress, her unaffected demeanor, -something-, and was getting antsy that it still hadn’t happened yet. Well, she’d have to wait a bit longer. Brand didn’t have the energy for teenage antics right now.

“Alright. Kiwi, whenever you’re ready…”

Brand and their daughter were regarded with nothing more than a side glance over her shoulder, but nothing was said. Each one received a pointed, cold stare for separate reasons. In Meg’s case, it was a look of disappointment for the way she spoke, for how she dressed--didn’t she care at all that Dominic was dead? The look given to Brand was one of ‘how will I ever be ready?’ complete with vague confusion. Khitti shook her head, returning then to the task at hand. An unsurmountable anger had started to well up in her, her emotions shifting rather quickly from the heartbreak that had been there during her walk up the aisle to Dominic’s side. She lost him. Her baby. Her little sprout. How could she not have done everything in her power to save him? All those battles she had fought to protect him. Wait...battles? What battles? The only ‘battles’ she’d ever fought was with Brand, and despite the fire that would erupt between the two during their fights, they were always insignificant and nothing seemed to be able to keep the two apart for long.

A strange sort of battle was being fought now, though, in the back of Khitti’s mind. This is your fault. You couldn’t keep him safe. You couldn’t keep him from leaving. Just like Lydia. Just like your parents. This continued in her head as she edged closer to the casket, taking those steps to close the gap between her and her son. More tears welled up as she eyed her Dominic, a hand moving to brush those long black locks from his eyes that always seemed to go right back where they wanted. “I let you down...didn’t I? I always knew I would. I couldn’t protect you. You didn’t deserve this… I’m so sorry.”

Brand stood frozen in place, unable to retreat and unable to move forward to comfort Khitti. His job was to protect her, dammit, but there was no protecting her from this. He couldn’t save her from this pain. Couldn’t save Dominic. Maybe if he’d seen the signs in time… maybe if he’d parented differently… maybe if he’d called more often or if they’d moved to be closer after the kid had graduated or …

It was Meg who approached Khitti now, clearly out of her depth though she was. She snaked an arm around her mother’s waist and, chewing on a lip, stared down at her older brother. “It wasn’t your fault, mum. There was nothing you could have done...” He looked like plastic, she thought. Some waxen mannequin with all the flaws and personality removed. Dominic would pop around the corner any second now and announce this to be another one of his weirdo art exhibits, right? ‘A Post-Mortem Sculpture of the Self’ or something equally pretentious sounding. Ugh, nerd. Meg pulled away from her mother to kick sullenly at the table holding her brother’s casket, and then as if from nowhere sprang the outburst she’d been holding back all along. One kick became two, became three, became punches into the side of that wooden case that punctuated shouting and sobs. “God, what the hell is -wrong- with you?! Why couldn’t you have just frakkin’ -said- something, you idiot? You really think we wouldn’t have dropped everything for your stupid ass?!” Kick, kick, punch. Meg’s theatrics finally drew Brand out of his stasis, and he restrained his daughter with firm hands and a growling, “That’s enough.”

Green eyes stared down at Dominic as Meg took out her aggression and pain on what was left of her older brother. Khitti reached a hand back and placed it on Brand’s arm, as if to say ‘it’s okay’ in regards to Meg; she’d done the very same thing when Lydia and their parents died, she understood everything Meg was feeling perfectly. There’s another sweep of her other hand, through Dominic’s hair, and then a kiss pressed to his forehead just as she’d always done with him when he was growing up, the faintest of smiles mustered for her eldest. He’d been so full of life, so happy. What had she done wrong? “Goodbye, my little one…” Khitti’s bottom lip trembled as she spoke, and before she could start crying again, she pivoted on her heels to face her husband, though her trying had been in vain, unfortunately, as tears began to surface again. She stared at him questioningly, as if he had all the answers--he always seemed to have them in the past, some way of comforting her in the worst of times--but now she’d likely be met with nothing.

Brand released Meg with a drawn out sigh at Khitti’s wordless reassurance. Meg took the opportunity to kick at the table one last time -- defiance, mostly -- then ran down the aisle and back out the door. Probably, she’d have found something else to punch by the time Khitti and Brand finally made their way out there. Brand seemed in no rush to follow, though, instead returning Khitti’s gaze with that same tired look he’d had all day. He had no answers. There -were- no answers. Not this time. Certainly, no answers either of them wanted to hear right now. That stare between them extended until, in the distance, a clock struck nine. Three hours since the funeral had begun. Three days in a blur of grief since learning of Dominic’s -- he couldn’t even think the word. He wasn't yet ready to admit it to himself.


“Well,” Brand sighed again, holding a hand out for his wife to take, “What now?”

Khitti shook her head at Brand, letting out a sigh of her own, “I don’t know.” After a moment’s hesitation and a bit more staring on her end, she finally took that outstretched hand. It wasn’t Brand’s hand, however, that she grabbed ahold of. A lanky alien-like form stood before her, the being faceless, its oil-black body slick with the very same acidic slime that the Khitti of Lithrydel had once been able to summon up in times of need. It released her hand almost immediately, clawed fingers moving forward quickly to grab the redhead by her upper left arm, dragging its nails down through Khitti’s flesh as they reached her wrist, ripping her arm into ribbons. The shock was too great for the woman, as she could barely let out the tiniest shriek; the strange thing became even stranger as its face split from the middle and fanned outwards like a lily’s petals, letting out a horrifying screech. Khitti tore her arm away from the beast in an attempt to try to escape from it and…

...she was back in the church. She’d jerked her hand away from Brand and stumbled backwards, falling onto the steps behind her. This didn’t seem to faze her at all for she was soon pulling off her coat and inspecting her bare arm--to her surprise, she’d find faint scratch marks in place of the damage that Amarrah had left. It looks like nothing more than marks left by an angry cat.

“I...think I might need a drink…” was breathed uneasily as she finally looked up at Brand, confusion and fright written on her face.

Concern momentarily overtook the exhaustion on Brand’s face. The way she’d stumbled back… was she so sleep deprived she was starting to hallucinate? At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him. He wasn’t sure how he was getting by on so little rest, himself. Brand helped Khitti to her feet and, arm in arm, they made their way toward the exit. “...Yeah. Wasn’t gonna say anything, but likewise. A drink, or two… or three.”

Brand pushed open the double doors, revealing the brewing blizzard just beyond. Night had come quickly -- too quickly, Brand thought -- and the flurries from earlier that day had given way to high winds and snowflakes that pelted toward them at a nearly horizontal angle. The headlights of the vehicle before them penetrated into the darkness for now, but if things got much worse…

Brand swallowed the thought. Only a few miles to the hotel, and they could drink and rest and grieve and wait out the storm somewhere safe. Somewhere warmer than here. Brand opened a backseat door to usher Khitti inside, revealing the twins in front and Meg drumming agitatedly on the steering wheel.

Skinny arms clung to Brand as he led Khitti outside. Just as she was getting into the car, something down the street up ahead caught her eye. A figure? No...there was more than one. What the hell were people doing in the street in the middle of a blizzard? She eyed them warily as the dark shadows in the snow beyond slowly got larger, tossed a concerned glance over her shoulder towards Brand, then got in the car, grabbing his hand to pull him inside next to her.

Once they were situated, the ever impatient and irritable Meg (she was so much like her mother, heh) pulled the car out into the proper lane and took off down the road, as fast as she possibly could get away with in the storm. It wasn’t long before she was weaving around the odd, slowly shambling people that deemed it necessary to wander the streets in the middle of a blizzard. Multiple curses left Meg’s mouth (okay, she’s definitely like -both- of her parents) as she let out a bit of road rage until something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye--was one of those people hurt? It’s enough to take her full attention off the road ahead of them. Enough for her to plow right into one of the strange people about. The body hits the front of the car with a sickening thud, rolling off the hood and back onto the ground.

That odd feeling Khitti had when she got into the car surfaced again. It was stronger now, overwhelming. Something was very, very wrong. The girls were freaking out, of course, and rightly so as they probably just murdered someone. Quickly, Khitti unbuckled herself and pushed open the car door, eyeing the three of them, “S-stay here.” She pushed it closed and stepped gingerly over to the body. It laid on the ground, clawing at the air, its broken legs not allowing it to get up and go anywhere whatsoever. Upon seeing Khitti, the zombie let out a breathy growl, ever reaching for her, cold dead fingers aching to rip through her flesh. The redhead lets out a faint yelp and backs up...right into another one. This one wastes no time in grabbing hold of her and taking a chomp out of her shoulder.

Each tooth of the creature was as a searing hot metal upon flesh. Even when the zombie pulled away, repelled by some unseen force, the sensation lingered. Blisters rose upon Khitti’s skin -- blisters that grew ever angrier and full of fluid until they burst, splashing her face and clothes with that familiar pitch black slime. The undead encircled her now, watching. Where once there had been only a handful there was now a throng of them, though none any closer than her arm’s length. One after another clawed out of the ground to join with the others until the wall around her blocked out the road ahead, the car behind, the snow-laden trees and empty buildings on either side. There was nothing but the horde now, watching her every movement. If she stepped forward, so did they, maintaining their ring around her. The acid seemed as if it had absorbed into Khitti’s skin now, infecting her muscles with numbness and fatigue, and soon she would move no longer.

From somewhere beyond her vision, one of the zombies screeched. A second joined. A third. A fourth. With sickening squelches, wailing, and rattling of bones, others joined in until they were all one cacophonous symphony. The snowstorm withered overhead as they performed, clouds parting to reveal a starless night with streaks of dark violet and sanguine red. With the sky and eerie chorus as backdrop, one undead rose twice as tall as the rest and shambled towards their center, towards the immobilized Khitti. The noise crescendoed with every labored pace the thing took forward. Louder. Louder, still. So loud Khitti’s ears might burst. And then the undead stood before her, and at last the throng fell into uneasy silence.

“They hunger,” rasped the creature. Murky, milk white eyes gazed down upon her, unseeing. “I feel their lives, their destinies spilling out before me. They deny their path and are left ravenous and empty.” A deep breath filled its lungs, or what might have once been lungs -- but now there was only tattered flesh hanging inside the creature’s ribcage, slapping together in protest of the sudden shift in pressure.

“What... do you seek?”

Today seemed to be one of those days where things couldn’t get any worse...could it? Well, at least these weren’t spooky, scary skeletons. That would be too much. Things felt...way too familiar though. At least, in regards to the zombies anyway. The holes where the boils had been and the bite on her shoulder was still searing with pain, but she did her best to push it out of her mind as she stared at what she assumed was the leader of the horde. What did she want? There were a lot of things. Humans always craved -something-. She was silent as she contemplated the question put before her, her body frozen in time.

“I want my son back, “ was said finally with conviction, “and I want you to leave my family alone.”

There was a moment of obvious inner struggle as she tried to move, tried to fight whatever had paralyzed her.

“But, most of all...I want you to obey me.” What was she doing? Surely she’d lost her mind. What power did she have over a legion of undead? It felt...true, though, despite the fact that it sounded like utter madness--there was some actual part of her head that told her she could control these things. “I want you to go back from wherever you came from. Crawl back into the little holes you came out of and -die-.” She almost sounded like Meg with all of that defiance that oozed from her words or rather, Meg definitely got it from her.

A thousand whispers echoed in the space surrounding human and undead commander. Die. Die, die, die. Some seemed to almost be questions -- die? What did it to mean to die for those who had already risen once? What was to stop them from returning at another time? Some of the zombies did indeed turn away at Khitti’s command, slipping through the crowd to some unknown beyond, but it was not enough. Too many still stood, heads cocked and tongues lolling.

The clouded eyes of the commander -- if it could be called such -- pierced through Khitti as one hand pulled at its scraggly, bramble-like beard. Perhaps it had not expected the answer it had received? “They come seeking a future that is not theirs,” breathed the undead, throaty voice louder now than before. “The one taken by shadow is naught but shadow themselves. Reflections of family are cast upon the frozen sea, breathing their own breaths but never alive.” Here the creature paused, as if giving Khitti time for its words to sink in. As if it expected her to understand. As if her understanding were somehow critical to the creature. “The three are two, enemies joined ever more as one. They hunger for redemption that will only come through the howl of terrible suffering.”

The throng seemed to take this as a rallying cry; their whispers swelled and melded together until they were a single wild yowl. For a moment the commander’s attention was drawn to its brethren, but the outcry never became anything coherent. Scowling, the commander held its other hand outstretched, and the roaring of the mob was silenced once again.

“The way forward is at once both unthinkable and inevitable. The avalanche that will crash upon the ice has already started; it is too late for the snowflakes to decide whether they shall stay or they shall go. It begins, but you have forgotten something.” The commander’s tone seemed ever more urgent; its spine stretched until the undead’s face loomed directly over Khitti, eyes gleaming like the light of a full moon.

“Who. Are. You?”

Khitti’s brows knitted together as she tried to understand that riddle of a statement that poured from the undead’s mouth. Who she was? What did that even mean? Green eyes stared upwards into the milky white stare of the zombie that towered over her. As if on cue, there’s a flash of memory. It seeped over from her subconscious into that pool of current thoughts that was racing about in her mind, struggling to figure out what he meant.

“ ‘All of it’, peach? Is that...wise?” was asked as Brand showed Khitti the rituals necessary to perform certain aspects of necromancy.

“Yes. All of it. It may not be vise, but it’s necessary.”

She’d barely given Brand’s hesitance a second thought. After everything she’d been through, what was going on? What had happened up in that brain of hers to suddenly give in to this magic that she’d denied all these years? The memory shifts again, to sixteen years ago. Lydia...her parents...they hadn’t died in a car crash, had they? No. They were killed by some of the very creatures that stood before her, and now, she was desperate. Desperate like she had been back then. Khitti was losing Dominic slowly but surely, she could feel it. Why did Brand still stick around? She had no idea, whether it was in this reality or the waking one. But, that in itself, was reason enough for her to keep fighting. This immobilization...it was like some strange manifestation of her fear. The city around her flickered, sinking into the shadows, leaving naught but darkness and that red and violet sky. More memories flooded in and soon she came to the realization that none of this was real. Again, she’d been tricked. Again, she was lied to. Dominic wasn’t dead, but both him and Brand very well could be in the near future if she didn’t do something--something to get rid of the things that plagued her and the people she loved.

As the metaphorical lightning struck her brain, enlightening her to the things that she’d forgotten, that black slime that had absorbed into her skin slowly oozes it way out, both from her pores and the putrid bite mark left on her shoulder. It pooled its way down her arm until it reached her fingertips, every ounce of it that had corrupted her form and made her motionless. She straightened her form, no longer hindered by that which she now controlled, the slime shifting into that black orb of shadows that she now remembered how to control.

“I...am Death, “ she said cooly, fingers dancing idly beneath that eldritch ball as it swirled above her hand. “And everything I do from now on is necessary. It’s necessary that I defeat you. That I wake up and use your disgusting, wretched kin for whatever purpose I see fit. It’s necessary because I will rid myself of Amarrah and I will live again--no matter the cost. I -will- get my fairy tale ending...and you? You will be naught but dust in the wind.”

Shadowfire rose up from within the orb, combining both spells into one, growing as hot as the flames that the Lithrydel Brand would create. “I am sick and tired of losing my family. You are not the first nor will you be the last to suffer for everything that’s happened!” No sooner had those words left her mouth was she drawing back her hand and shoving the blackened flames into the face of the undead commander.

The throng surrounding them screeched once more in unison and disintegrated, leaving only bits of ash to flutter away on swirling gusts of wind -- but the commander itself only glowed like an ember and peered down upon Khitti, smiling through half-rotted lips.

“Death, you are not. But death shall tread in lockstep with you, shall be your shadow in darkness and in light. Death shall be your guide, and perhaps your adversary.” Now the commander too was crumbling, though it seemed unfazed by its pending demise. “Two stars shall fall for the one to rise, their curses lingering as putrid foam upon the shore. The two shall find the end of time unreckoned, and they will not understand.”

The undead appeared as nothing but a skull upon the ground now, peeling away further with every breath of wind. Somehow still it spoke, its words piercing Khitti’s mind directly and then fading as the last of its essence did. “Seek your fairy tale end, Khatja Elysse von Schreier. But recall that every soul receives the ending it deserves.”

And it was gone, and Khitti was left alone under the darkening purple sky.

Khitti feigned an unconcerned expression as the last of the undead crumbled away and left on the breeze. Slender fingers reach back to the nape of her neck, sliding up into the woman’s red locks and flipping the long strands backwards into the wind as she peers around the area. The shadows that surrounded the buildings and cars now was entwined with purple flames, the same she’d just used to annihilate the undead. Everything was frozen in time, everything felt like some sort of post-apocalyptic nightmare.

“You spew nonsense! I’ll find a way! I’ll do it and everything will be fine!”

A feeling of loneliness crept over her. Isn’t this when she was supposed to awaken? You fight off the thing in your nightmare and then you wake up? But, she didn’t. Instead, she wandered back to the car, that strange metal contraption that seemed to be in all of her dreams. First she looked between the two girls that had been her daughters; she wondered now if she should have hope--hope that maybe one day, she’d actually have children like them. Or any at all, really. Then, she moved to the back of the car and peered into the window at Brand, pressing a hand against the glass. She...really missed him. There were so many things she wanted to say, things she wanted to show him through their link; that love she had for him had only grown moreso as he chose to stay by her side, her feelings for Dominic hadn’t waned but was merely put on guard as things between her and the dark-haired male remained occasionally tense.

“You’ll forgive me, won’t you? For the things I might have to do? I need you, to be here with me, to stay by me, to keep me from falling too far into the darkness.” Khitti paused, brows knitted together as she side-eyed the ground. “I love you. Even after everything. After the fighting and the hurtful things we say to each other. I don’t even know if I should tell you this--if you’d even listen. You’re so resistant to it sometimes. I know why, but...I wish it wasn’t like that anymore.” She sighs heavily and kicks the car, much like Meg had with the table earlier, letting out an irritated scream.

Overhead, somewhere up in that terrifying multi-colored sky, horrid shrieking laughter erupts from seemingly nowhere. It seems to go on forever, much to Khitti’s irritation. Oh, Khitti knew exactly whose cackling that was and was soon gifted with the shadow creature’s presence from the faux-heavens above. The colors in the sky shift, carefully taking on the pattern of the wings for Amarrah’s butterfly form, bright violet eyes shining in the middle of it all.

“Oh, my dear Red. Did you really think you were going to get your little happy ending? Any time now, I imagine your little Firebug is gonna show up and it’s not gonna be you! You’re trapped here for as long as I can hold you! For as long as it takes to slaughter each and every person that you care about. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll leave Firebug for last. Maybe I’ll even let you watch him die.”

Meanwhile, back in Lithrydel, Khitti was still on the floor--only now, her body was enshrouded in those purple shadows that had manifested the day Brand brought Khitti back from Raiez’s cave. Wispy tendrils lick at the air around the vampiress’ body, eager to coat the entire room in darkness.

End of the Frozen Road

Shadows. Brand approached the tavern, fruits of the day’s outing tucked under one arm, and saw shadows moving through the window above. Seven frakkin’ hells, but that was their room, wasn’t it? Perhaps Khitti’s nose was buried once again in one of those books she’d taken from the library. She’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into perfecting her dark magics lately, and everything new that befell her only strengthened that determination.

And yet… the sight of it up and beyond the glass had set his gut to twisting. Something here was wrong, and it wasn’t Khitti’s necromancy. The longer he watched, the bolder the shadows grew. The entirety of the room appeared solid black, and wisps leaked beyond the window and vanished like smoke on the air.

Something here was very wrong.

Rented Room (Frostmaw Tavern)

He’d seen them again, wisps of shadow billowing out from the crack at the bottom of their door. If he’d not suspected something awry before, the fact that they’d vanished as he approached would definitely have served to tip him off. Khitti knew the cadence of his footfalls, and even how it differed from Dominic’s. She had no reason to hide that shadow magic from Brand, unless...

The man entered with feigned obliviousness, eyes on the items he’d brought back with him. He’d only see her in his peripheral. “Hey, kiwi. Got that stuff from the shop you wanted. They were outta the regular carrot cake, so I had to get the kind without nuts. Strawberry cheesecake’s all mine, by the way. They only had the one, and since you didn’t go...”

Amarrah grinned to herself as she brushed Khitti’s long hair, standing in front of the dresser to use the mirror atop it. As soon as Brand entered the room, she’d shoot him a side-eyed glare, but ultimately wiped that look away once the grin had gone too. She returned her attention to the looking glass before her, her reflection--the real one, at least her shapeshift form, that both Khitti and Brand had seen in their dreams--looking back at her with that faceless stare, though it’d go unseen by the Catalian. “Hm? Oh, yes. Zhe carrot cake. Vithout nuts is perfectly fine. Zhank you.” No snark? No faux chiding about not getting her the -exact- thing she wanted? Unfortunately for Amarrah, her vanity was taking over currently as she messed with Khitti's hair; the shadow creature wasn’t as good of an actress as she thought for that Khitti-mask she wore was slipping, and Brand was sure to notice.

Once her hair was braided and her duster adorned, she’d turn to Brand, take the cake box and lightly toss it onto the table nearby. That was another strike against her; Khitti’d never throw desserts so carelessly, especially not her precious carrot cake. “I’ll have to eat it later, yeah? I’ve got to meet up vith Lionel and zhe others. Gotta get rid of zhose pests, you know.” She added quickly soon after, “Zhe bugs, zhat is.”

Once the boxes were out of his hands, the Catalian elected to busy himself with dousing the flames in the fireplace rather than facing Not-Khitti directly. Amarrah hit closer and closer to home every time she appeared, it seemed; it would be easier to maintain the guise of ignorance if he minimized eye contact. She couldn’t be allowed to see the anger smouldering underneath.

“Right. No, didn’t figure you’d eat it now. Weren’t you late for the last meetin’, or the one before…? Prob’ly shouldn’t be again, so soon.” Brand was stalling, seeking the time to weigh his options. If Amarrah was pretending to be Khitti, and intended to meet with the Warrior’s Guild… she had something planned. Calling her on it now might only cause a brawl here, around noncombatants -- not to mention, they were in enough trouble with Drargon as it was. Watching and waiting, though, would put her in a location surrounded by other capable fighters. Khitti might get hurt. But a discreet word to Lionel, and perhaps Amarrah could be taken down after she’d revealed her goal and before she had opportunity to carry it out. Hmm…

“Speakin’ of, I’ve decided I’m gonna go with you.” Brand straightened and turned round to face the imposter, his face in carefully composed neutral. “As infested as those tunnels sound, you’re gonna need every available hand lendin’ you aid. And besides,” Brand paused, flourishing a hand to produce one of his trademark fireballs, “I’m itchin’ for another good fight, aren’t you?”

Within the long nightmare, in the stasis of frozen time, Brand’s gaze turned ever so slightly towards Khitti.