RP:How to Dispose of a Coward and a Liar
Part of the Mearcstapa Arc
Summary: Mesdoram is on the hunt for Brennia, but at least this dream partner doesn't seem to want to kill her!
DeVere College of Bardic Arts
After finding your way through the Topiary Garden it would only be fitting to come upon a prestigious looking establishment in the same style as all of Schezerade, enabling all its decadence; marble forming the entirety of the large building accented with gold and platinum. The front double door is welcoming for all shapes and sizes that are the citizens of Lithrydel because even though Schezerade tries to be exclusive for avians, the college is accepting of all. Upon entry, you'll experience eager students practicing their many talents and bustling about trying to get from one class to the other. Once immersed, the eyes might be stolen by the gaping cathedral ceilings above, spotted by gold and platinum in which encircle mini glowing stones to mimic the night sky, but beauty is not what the ceiling is for; the acoustics of it carries one's voice in the most pleasing fashion. This main hall is quite vast with a large open kitchen, dining area, table game zone and in the center is a large fireplace with various pieces of furniture with bookshelves that hold a plethora of song books or poetry books.
At the entrance to the college, there is a grand staircase that goes up to the mezzanine which overlooks the main hall below and doorways to each classroom. In the northernmost spot of the main hall, there is a staircase that leads down next to the kitchen which leads to the dorms. There is also a large glass door to the north east of the hall that ushers out to the courtyard which has a little pond, a patio where students can converse or have their meals and little pathways that explore secret parts of the gardens, but there is also a greenhouse for one of the classes and a maze.
Brennia has been missing from the school grounds for nearly three months now, but the show must go on! This is what Brennia stepped down and promoted Counselor Dewfoot-Barrows for, oh-excuse me, DEAN Dewfoot-Barrows. There is a group of students, first years no doubt, gathered at the front just before the steps which lead up to the impressive castle-esque building known as the bard's college and a matronly looking hobbit propped up on a platform so everyone can see her. The group waiting seems a little large, but why wouldn't be when Professor Lanara has returned along with her husband Professor Rivers and the buzz about them can be heard among some of the students.
At the command of the hobbit woman with rosy cheeks and a smile so warm it melts the coldest of hearts, the commotion instantly dies down, "welcome first years to your home away from home!" The excitement can be felt in the air, "all of us here at the college are so excited for you to join us." It is obvious that Brennia created this college with the vision of inclusion no matter race, class or heritage as there are all walks of life within the crowd to much dismay of the more elderly upper echelon of avians. Brennia couldn't see her home any other way as she, herself, has always been open minded and accepting of people because all anyone needs is a chance. "Some alumni have joined me today to help ease your transition and I am so thankful for their help because there are so many new admissions this year," a chubby little hand motions to four distinguished looking artists near her at the platform.
"Please be patient with us while we ensure each and every one of you are completely settled. Each of you has a packet and at the top left corner they are labeled, 'Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass'," at the mention of each group, one of the alumni holds up their corresponding sign for who shall group around them. "Please head toward the corresponding alumni and I will be sticking around all day for any concerning questions if the alumni need a hand. Thank you and I wish you all the best of luck, but please… make the most out of your time here and create the warmest memories." With that everyone files into the grand main hall which has an assortment of seating areas, a large fireplace, instruments and an odd empty space where Brennia's concert grand piano used to be before it got destroyed.
Dean Dewfoot-Barrows appears to give pause at the empty space with a thoughtful expression on her face. "Oh, Brennia…" She whispers under her breath while wondering why the avian has decided to extend her stay in Alithrya for so long. Something isn't right, but she cannot go crusading to find the woman because she now has a college to run! It has been increasingly worrisome because over anything or anyone, teaching young minds has been Brennia's passion and talent- the new Dean has seen it for herself.
Mesdoram is exhausted… the drow man has yet to master the multitude of terrain he has conquered in order to find her… deserts, blizzards, and now the environment he fears most of all: society. Has Mesdoram’s reputation really traveled far and wide across these lands, even to the avians and intellectuals of Schezerade? The words are ringing in his head right now… 'Drow are not welcomed…' or something to that effect was spoken from Brennia’s own mouth. Would he even be able to stay here long without arousing calls to arms against the devilish drow man? Or worse… would they turn up their noses at Mesdoram and give the dark elf a second glance… either way, Mesdoram has come too far to fail and filled with too much grit to give up… no matter how fearful he is now.
Attempting to blend in, Mesdoram had put up his sapphire hood to conceal his face as the Dean spoke to all the newly first years. The drow is surprised to see that, at least from the back of the assembly, that it appears many races of people are indeed among the eager students – though he does not sense nor smell another drow in the crowd, he feels a bit safer and hopes not to stick out nor arise worries among the populace. Attempting to get a better look at Dean Dewfoot-Barrows, Mesdoram bobs and weaves his head in between the vacant spaces of all the taller pupils; listening to her speak does fill the drow with some hope, but is ready to draw his blade if need be…
As the Dean dismisses everyone, the organized chaos ensues as everyone leaves with their respective alumni with several people bumping into Mesdoram. “They are just people like you… you don’t have to stab everyone anymore… Nariv doesn't control you today…” Mesdoram thinks to himself as he unwillingly absorbs the blows. As only Dewfoot-Barrows and Mesdoram stand in the new peace, the drow does not know how to even breach the Dean nor even if he’s in the correct building; little did he know, his journey will not likely end here. Upon hearing the Dean whisper Brennia's name, a small spark instills confidence inside him and approaches Dean Dewfoot-Barrows with determined but weary eyes.
“For… Forgive me for my intrusion…” Mesdoram starts with as he looks up to the hobbit from her platform. “… but I have been searching for that very same person you just whispered… Brennia.” Saying her name out loud fills the sensitive drow with many emotions, but fear and worry speak loudest in his tone of voice. “I… Cannot make sense of how our paths intertwined with each other, but…“ Not knowing if this complete stranger will believe his story, he pulls out his trinket: one of Brennia’s many beautiful feathers given to him by his angel. “She has been in my dreams, but I do not know what magic this is… I thought someone was tricking me, but now I understand Brennia is very real. I wish to see her, and I read a paper from years ago. Does she work here? Am I in the right place?”
Mesdoram has tried his best to stand still, but the fatigue of his journey begins shaking the hand holding Brennia’s feather. Not wanting to damage his trinket, Mesdoram offers the feather to Dean Dewfoot. “Am I in the right place? She is important to me… as she must be to you to speak her name with such grief.” Holding out the feather for her to observe, a very depleted Mesdoram patiently waits for Dewfoot-Barrow’s response.
Brennia | Mary-Anne Dewfoot-Barrows is the one that must look up at the drow being a hobbit woman as they are now within the safe confines within the college, "now worries dearie! I do not recall conducting your entrance interview, but we can sort everything out when-" her words are cut off when he mentions he has been seeking Brennia. There is a bit of fear knowing drow and their inherently evil nature, but the old magic protecting the castle would not allow this man to enter if his intentions were impure. "Aren't we all," her tone is serious even though she is still smiling warmly to the man. "You are in the right place young man. May I ask who you are?" Then she is eyeing the feather - wondering how he ever got his hands on it. Of course there are many avians with black wings, but she has watched the bard for many years and only Brennia has a unique hue to hers.
"Did you find this?" She wonders if the drow understands what wings and feathers mean to avians. Without filter, she asks with subtle excitement, "you intend to wed Professor Brennia Cadenza DeVere then?" It is clear now that this belongs to Brennia as the Dean holds it up to the arcane lights and the familiar subtle hues of navy blue along with forest greens shimmer in the alluring darkness of the feather. The short stocky woman takes note of the weary traveler, "my dear boy. Come, follow me." She hands him back the precious feather and motions for him to follow - there will be no arguing as she leads him to the mess hall side of the castle. "Please, help yourself while I fetch something from my office that might help us." There is a grand buffet style spread along the long tables of many foods one could imagine that is still warm as if freshly out of the ovens.
Many students are already enjoying their meal for the night and there are, in fact, a couple of drow ladies attending the college. Schezerade allows all races within their city these days, most solely attribute this integration to the college itself! It is Island Vere, Brennia's homeland, which is only reachable by avians that she was surprised to see a drow in one of their dreams. Not to say only drow aren't welcome, but all races other than avian. Once Mesdoram has got a decent amount of food in him, the Dean finally returns with a letter and she climbs into a seat next to him, "I am so sorry for the wait Dearie. I wouldn't be sharing this information with anyone else, but seeing as you are her intended - I must."
She shows him a letter with a white and gold colored wax seal and the royal Alithrya stamp there in the center, "this is the only clue I have and she sent this just over two months ago." If he opens the letter, he will find her thoughtful script handwriting on the parchment which conveys her warm and loving spirit. It reads as follows:
Dearest Mary-Anne,
I know you're having a blast spending the summer with your precious grand babies! Give plenty of kisses and hugs to Bo, Odie, Bertie, Willa, RaeRae, Theo, Mossy, GinGin and Begs for me. I bet they are wreaking havoc in the nearly empty halls of the college and keeping the cooks on their feet. Please, feel free to let them nap in my empty professor's suite while I am away because I know they are total grumps when they skip their nap time!
Unfortunately Thedez has been going through some struggles here and I have been helping him through it. I feel like I owe him so much for being my protector for so long, especially after what we went through together on that farm, and I wouldn't feel right leaving until I know his sister and him are okay. Feel free to write back with any advice you might need in being Dean, I knew that naming you my successor was truly the right thing. Miss you, love you!
With Much Love,
Bre
Mary-Anne lets out a sigh and folds the letter back up, "she is so close with my grand babies. Has nicknames for each one," there is an infectious little hearty chuckle which slightly jiggles her belly that follows. "I don't know what I ever would have done without that sweet woman," tears threaten her pale blue eyes. "I left Brennia's suite unlocked for you to sleep and regain some energy… Alithrya is a bit of a journey." There is no arguing with mama Mary-Anne and what she says is final. The drow will eat, he will take a rest, he will have a hearty breakfast with a knapsack of food to take with him. "Please tell her we all send our love," she gently taps the back of the drow's hand affectionately before being summoned for her Dean duties.
Mesdoram blinks several times as the energetic woman barrages him with help information, the promise of a bountiful buffet, and is given the fast paced tour of this incredible school; trying, and failing, Mesdoram attempts to keep up with the rapid fire questions. “No, I did not find it.. it was given to – what in the world does ‘wed’ mean? I… Oh, my name is Mes – wait where are you going now?” The delirious drow hastens his steps as they enter the mess hall; here, Mesdoram gazes at the spread of food and feels wandering eyes from students cast perplexing looks as they eat their meals and read their syllabuses in between bites and stares. Looking around nervously, Mesdoram has appeared to lose Dean Dewfoot… did… did she abandon him? Oh wait… she told him to eat and drink… a rest will be much needed after this feast.
Sitting alone as he takes a load off, Mesdoram eats his fill of assorted meats and hydrates with plain glacier water; as he starts to sink his face into his hands to rest for a moment, the drow recalls another piece of information from the Dean. “So Brennia teaches here? Wonder what subjects –“ But before he can meander too long, Dean Dewfoot plops into the seat right next to him ready to give him the information he seeks. He first apologizes if he seems blunt and abrupt – the man is due for a twenty-four hour nap, but feels it critical he pushes through the weariness. Mesdoram furrows his brow a bit at Dean Dewfoot’s wording about this letter. “Only ‘clue’? Two months? This is much more serious than I thought.” The drow speaks into the air.
Politely taking the letter and reading its contents, Mesdoram compares the personality of the woman in his dreams to the one writing the letter; a comfortable smile adorns his face as he believes his angel, Brennia, and the writer are the same person. As the sweet hobbit woman sings her praises for Brennia, he reciprocates the Dean’s gesture by gingerly grabbing some fingertips to match her kind tap. “I will find her… thank you Dean.” Mesdoram manages to muster before the energetic hobbit leaves him at Brennia’s suite. “She seems… nice.” Maybe at another time, Mesdoram could seek more council from the Dean… but for now, this drow enters the door attempts to calculate his plan of action; however, the exhaustion takes hold of Mesdoram as he drops his backpack and gear, closes the door behind him, and instinctively climbs into Brennia’s bed for some much needed rest… or so he hopes…
The next morning
Mesdoram tosses and turns most of the night; with too much weighing on his mind about Brennia’s uncertain predicament, he was unable to sleep longer than twenty minute intervals… but a small constellation prize: Mes would have mini-dreams in between REM cycles about Brennia giving him some comfort… especially when she would smile back at him. Upon seeing the sunlight pierce through the windows of her suite, Mesdoram wastes very little time to gather up his belongings and suits up in his battle mage attire: drow chainmail concealed below his blue robs, twin dirks secured snuggling along his belt, and his preferred earthly brand tucked away in its scabbard on his left hip. Taking a long lasting look behind him to Brennia’s room, he lingers a bit… and is overwhelmed with the task at hand. He has no earthly idea where he is going, what type of place Alithrya, nor what is Brennia’s current situation; it is not fear that consumes him, but rather determination to succeed. “No turning back now. I must find her… no matter what happens to me.” Fueled by grit and some rest, Mesdoram exits Brennia’s room, makes nice with some students before grabbing some provisions, and makes his way to uncertainty – Destination: Alithrya…
City gates of Alithrya
As a swimmer, Mesdoram certainly is not the best; as a spell blade trained in ice arts, the drow is crafty enough to travel across the trepid choppy waters and arrive at Alithrya’s front gate. Taking advantage of his icy skills, the drow created a couple two inch discs below his feet to glide effortlessly along the water; however convenient this method of travel is, the magical excursion depletes Mesdoram’s stamina greatly and will cause problems later this evening. Sailing across the large body of water, he is unceremoniously teleported as what can only be Alithrya: the intel he received did mention this dome city is concealed from the public, but finding the right area would transport beings to the city walls without warning.
The sudden change in environment takes Mesdoram by surprise and skids across shallow water until he gets snagged on the slushie shore; tumbling end over end, Mesdoram crashes hard to the ground and eventually the wooden gate where two naga guards are currently looking away. Both pike wielding naga guards immediately turn to the source of the thud calling angrily down. “WHO GOES THERE!? SHINE THE LIGHT DOWN THERE!” Another attending naga shines a mirror beacon downwards to where Mesdoram should be… but the drow is nowhere to be found nor any indication that what collided with the wall was alive. “SEARCH TEAM! GO!” While the naga Leader rallies up a search party to gather more intel, Mesdoram has already scaled the wall and rests briefly on the sturdy structure; concealed in the dark and catches his breath, Mesdoram collects himself enough, drops down to the city streets to seek his next move. Seeing that his battle with the wooden gate has attracted a growing crowd, Mesdoram elects to conceal himself in the darkness of night to safely survey the temperament of the locals.
Smells of Food
Wafting through the air are scents of something rather delicious as you pause to enjoy its sweet essence. Unfamiliar scents, though quite pleasing, seem to be lofted from the north from what appears to be a tavern. The path you are upon seems to track in all directions from you, including a rather loud ruckus to your north east from the enormous building upon the horizon.
Brennia is typically reading her dream journal and sipping chamomile tea in preparation for bed at this hour, but tonight is a special night! It is Nadia's birthday. This naga is a sweet and timid thing who works as a healer for the royal court. Seeing how Nadia is also the sister to her old bodyguard turned dear friend, Thedez, Brennia came quite close with the woman in no time and now considers her one of her best friends. The trio of them are dressed up, the naga siblings adorn fancy shirts and blouses while Brennia is wearing a dress in Alithrya colors as usual, but she has grown to like the way the colors accent her dewy tattooed bronze skin. The gold colored dress has a slit along the side and scinches around her narrow waist to accentuate the slight curve starting to return. If she is self conscious of the obvious scarring left behind on her outer thighs which stagger the tattoo pattern a bit, she doesn't make it evident with her expression. Her hair is pulled up in two neat buns at the crown of her head and the jewelry selected for the day are accents of white gold.
Her large black as night feathery wings slightly shimmer in hues of navy blues and forest greens while she is conscious to fold them against her sides carefully so she doesn't bump into anyone. A familiar slightly raspy giggle can be heard through the bustle of the crowd while the three of them are maneuvering their way to the tavern, but they do not seem to be in any rush as they stop for a while to enjoy some street entertainment. A smile remains on her lush lips gleefully and pokes those dimples in her cheeks while she stands next to Nadia. They watch as a naga slithers along a tightrope tethered between two lamp posts while juggling AND balancing a stack of books on their nose?! While the siblings continue to praise the performer, Brennia's solid teal hues take a moment to survey their surroundings as if searching in vain for something or someone. The small crowd around her starts clapping which snaps her out of her daydream and she joins in.
Brennia can pick up some commotion far off in the distance from the vague directions of the gates, but those long tapered ears are not just for show. Some of the odd energy from events happening over there is causing citizens to wrap up their night or file into the tavern. Nadia goes to toss some silver in the street performers upturned hat, but misses and it goes rolling away at an impressive rate. "You two go ahead and check us in, I get the coin and be right behind you guys," she kindly offers and they each give Brennia a thankful look before doing as she suggests. She intends to take her time, though, because it isn't often that she can get a moment alone outside of the confines of her room these days. "Where did the thing roll off to?"
The avian has also gotten accustomed to picking out the guards disguised as civilians watching her while 'not watching her', but they seem to have run off towards the gates as well. "There it is," she takes a few heeled steps into a dimly lit alley way and keeps the skirt to her dress smoothed down while she squats down to pluck the silver piece up with her long french tipped nails. She takes a moment to look up for once at the faux night skies while still in the alleyway to find a moment of peace.
Mesdoram successfully hides himself from the growing crowd and busy streets – “This must be their business section. I can smell the food in the air.” Sniffing around some more, Mesdoram begins separating the many smells this city has to offer the drow… and a slight sense of caution enters his mind, wondering how many nagas have encountered the dark elves’ signature stench of blood, sweat, and death. “I better make sure that if I make myself visible, no one is alerted of my presence… these muscle bound snakes will beat me in a brawn contest.” As another group of soldiers and citizens pass his way in the alleyway, Mesdoram silently moves behind a building which he believes to be a tavern of some sort.
The connecting alley ways give Mesdoram an escape root should he have to make a hasty retreat. Then, a faint but distinct ‘cling’ noise of a metal coin collides with the ground and begins rolling down the alley. Mesdoram watches the mystery coin roll in an unchoreographed serpentine route before coming to a stop some seventy feet away from the drow. Curiosity does get the best of him and takes a few strides to see where the coin has stopped; however, before he completes his 3rd step, there she is. Unmistakably, his Brennia takes elegant strides towards him and Mesdoram stops dead in his tracks. “Oh my…” Mes audibly, but softly says to himself – panicking a bit, he remembers he needs to be stealthy and stops himself from speaking any louder… his angel seems not to notice him just yet. Each echo of Brennia’s high heel step reverberates off the walls of the ally way and drums in sync with Mesdoram’s beating flustering heart – our drow has been starstruck with Bre’s beauty yet again, and that dress she’s rocking is not helping his rising blood pressure. Certainly, dream Brennia has captivated this drows heart; Brennia in real life is nothing short of breathtaking.
This is the moment he’s been looking forward to and the reason for his incredible journey through the elements… but now that she is here in front of him… Mesdoram’s uncertainty seeps seeds of doubts creeping into his mind… The words of his cruel tormenter creep into his head… words about his most certain death and what that would do to Bre… maybe Nariv is right… maybe it is cruel to tease Brennia with this encounter… maybe Mesdoram is best letting his memories be just that… Memories. ‘Just look at her…’ The evil elven witch’s voice manifests inside Mes’ head. ’… all dressed up, and not for you. She is happier without you, Mes… Don’t break this poor girl's heart.’ Mesdoram angrily shakes his head and curses his inner demons, internally yelling at Nariv. ’NOT NOW!’ Nariv does offer one last parting giggle just to toy with Mesdoram’s emotions before his big night… she needs to go in the cruelest way imaginable.
Doubt does creep into Mesdoram’s mind regardless of his influence… he feels selfish at this moment, wondering if meeting Brennia was a mistake… would she even remember him. Nevertheless, Mesdoram has gone too far and battled through too much to turn back without saying hello. The dim light bounces off of Brennia’s dress which both highlights her incredible figure and lights up her sweet face for Mesdoram… he cannot help but think of her from their first dream where she was stuck in a golden cage… that memory seems so far away now. Attempting not to approach like a stealth assassin, Mesdoram does take some heavy but confident and rhythmic steps just to the edge of the shadows – some 15 feet away from Brennia. Head still concealed with his sapphire hooded cloak, Mesdoram speaks very potently but soft to his angel.
“Brennia…” He says her name as though she has been gone from his side for too long. Every moment since he has met her in his dream is a moment too long for this drow. In hopes that she turns around so he can see her gentle teal eyes, Mesdoram would follow up his simple hello with very loving words. “… I have absolutely missed you, my angel…” Mesdoram is unsure if he has said enough, but he has successfully found Brennia. No matter what happens next, the drow smiles sweetly up to Brennia hoping for the best.
Brennia has maybe grown too comfortable in the safety of Alithrya, knowing the guards wouldn't dare let any harm come to Brennia for fear of the Queen's wrath because those approaching footsteps in a dimly lit alley doesn't send off any alerts in her mind. One aspect that doesn't convey well about Brennia in the plane of dreams is that as he comes closer, he will be able to pick up notes of his favorite scent coming from the avian, but surely he experienced this unusual trait during his time in Schezerade as all avians smell like this. When her name is said, the voice sounds so familiar and comfortable that she automatically replies with a light question of, "yes," from her smokey alto timbre- quite rich and warm as always. She turns to face the one hiding within the edge of the shadows and something seems unusual because naga are typically not this short as the six foot two woman (plus some in heels) has to look down at the stranger. Most naga are just as tall as her if not taller and if they are not their tails can help them adjust to her height.
The pet name sends her through an absolute loop, but she makes sure to keep her face and tone in check… unfortunately her wings did not get the memo as they shift against each other- almost preening with excitement. "Is that so?" Her grin widens as she still must remain careful in such a precarious situation, but part of her wonders if she is still daydreaming while everyone was watching the street performer. She knew it was going to be dangerous toying with lucid dreaming and her heart starts thundering away in her chest for fear she has created some sort of bleeding effect. The one thing she cannot feel in dreams is pain, so she must find a way to inflict some to be sure this isn't a dream. The silver coin in her hand has dull edges, but she gives it a good squeeze anyway until she feels a prick of pain.
She isn't dreaming! This cannot be! Her stomach is doing flips of excitement while her heart grips for fear this still isn't real. She understands now that Mesdoram is a real person, but sometimes brains are funny like that and will take a face in passing to pop up in someone's dream. The commotion feels so far away as the rest of the world becomes a distant memory and she braves a few steps closer to see the blue colors of the robes this stranger wears. It cannot be Sapphire. Her eyes fully adjust to the poor lighting, but she still cannot see the man's face under the cover of shadows provided by his hood. Is this person smiling? If he doesn't retreat back into the shadows when she gradually lifts her hand, she gently folds the fabric away from his face.
Of course she recognizes him, but she continues to sweetly smile down at Mesdoram. Her face feels like it is on fire as she is surely blushing due to nerves, but thanks to her own cosmetics no one will be the wiser. If only she remembered to put some on her ears because those are still quite visible and turning a shade of pink now. "What an interesting color of robes. I think I might call this a… S-Sapphire type- uh. Color, yeah?" It is an attempt to test the waters in a way so she doesn't sound entirely crazy no matter how much she just wants to melt into a tight hug with him. Her hands return to her sides and she even has to cling a little to the edges of her wings in order to hold them still because they want to follow her wishes in giving this poor soul a hug.
Mesdoram finds Brennia’s safe approach deciding if Mes truly is here, real, and not another mirage or dream very endearing; as Brennia raises her hand remove his hood, the pleasant aroma of Bre’s perfume enters Mesdoram’s nose and fills the drow with pure reminiscence. Without hesitation, Mes meets her lovely hand with his own and softly presses her palm on his cheek; filling the spaces of her fingers with his own, Mesdoram pushes and fans every fingertip of hers along his face. The warmth from Brennia’s real touch consumes the drow much more so than their dreams together; he can’t help himself and presses a drawn-out kiss in the cup of her hand before releasing his tender hold… after this small detour, Mesdoram allows her to pull his hood back as she folds it neatly over his shoulder blades. His alabaster hair dangles completely over his shoulders and his silvery eyes are now completely exposed for Brennia’s viewing pleasure.
Upon hearing her speak ‘Sapphire,’ a playful wink followed by a smile adorns Mesdoram’s face. “What, these old things?” Mesdoram showcases his robes by T-posing and giving a theatrical twirl for Brennia to see; being pushed closer into the light, his blue battle robes give off that signature sapphire hue that is very recognizable to Brennia. “An absolute beauty blessed me with that name, and she has completely stolen my attention ever since.” Something instinctual takes hold of Mesdoram’s body as he walks closer to Brennia; closing the gap, Mes pulls out his trinket from his robe’s pocket and gingerly holds Brennia’s black feather with both his hands. “She gifted me with this, and it has been inside my pocket right next to my heart… where she has resided since our first encounter…” Before tucking the trinket back into his robe pocket, Mesdoram does linger a bit for Brennia to observe or take if she wishes to check out its authenticity.
Mesdoram feels a bit unsure at the moment as he truly did not think he would find Brennia, nor expect to meet her in the aquatic city of Alithrya. “I cannot explain why or how our fates have become entwined with each other…” As he takes a pause, there is an audible command given from one of the Naga soldiers from the northern gate; Mes cannot quite make out the order, but from the angry tone conveyed from the serpent soldier, it was not a ‘let’s welcome to intruder with open arms!’ declaration. “… but I had to come find you Brennia before… before…” That doubt creeps in again along with the uncertainty of a drow-man hunt possible… he elects not to finish his sentence that would reveal his probable fate. Mes steps back into the shadows in case a patrolling group of Naga’s were to see him and Brennia together; not wanting to see his angel in the crossfire of a possible skirmish, Mesdoram speaks quietly from the shadows. “I am sorry… I don’t want to cause you harm.”
There’s so much he wants to talk about with Brennia, but feels he has completely exposed himself and Bre… perhaps his impromptu expedition was a folly feat to begin with. “Please… do not let me put you in danger… is there somewhere we can meet?” Just in that moment, three Naga soldiers slither their way from the street view and peer into the alley way; one of the Naga’s speaks knowing who Brennia is. “Brennia! There appears to be an intruder among us. Have you seen anything suspicious? Are you safe?” If Brennia were to do a quick double take from Mes to the Naga patrol back to Mes, she would see that her Sapphire has retreated back into the shadows… blended perfectly into the dark from a knelt position… and silently observes hoping this night does not come to blows with the Alithrya military.
Brennia feels suddenly warm on this cool night in Alithrya as she allows the man to take her hand and she can actually feel the angular features of his handsome face. One day Mesdoram might come to learn that every avian will smell of his favorite scent and most don't have the need for perfumes. Maybe she might have the underlying scent of coconut oil from the shimmery body lotion Vinabre Cosmetics sells sometimes, but not tonight. His lips against the palm of her hand make her gasp subtly with interest and her other hand drops the silver coin due to such a wonderful distraction. The longer she gazes down at him, her eyes begin to shimmer with threatening tears, but it is undetermined yet if those are happy tears or sad.
Happiness is evident when her smile spreads across her lips once more, dimples in her cheeks, after he winks at her. The twirl and his playful theatrics earn a soft raspy giggle from the avian. Right after his twirl ends, she quickly closes the distance between them to lean down just a little in order to wrap the drow in an embrace, wings to follow, that probably lasts far too long. "Please do not let this be another dream," she whispers before finally giving him a couple steps of space when the embrace concludes. The way he talks to her and about her has captured her interest because she cannot remember anyone speaking to her like this before. It is so… romantic and flowery which catches her completely off guard since she thought drow were angry and cruel people usually.
She reminds herself not to make assumptions based on stereotypes because if she were stereotypical avian then she wouldn't even be in Alithrya for her kind are far too hubris and arrogant for their own good. Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops slightly when he presents her own feather! How did he get his hands on this?! She is blushing so hard that her ears are now a shade of red, but there is still a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Well-uh-..." she clears her throat and holds out a hand. "Yy-you don't have to keep that if you don't want to because if you keep it… It- uh, hah, well. It means we are to join together in a marital union, Sapphire," she practically whispers the last part. She pretends that she did not just imagine what a marriage to him might be like even though her grin widens a little and she has to sort of tuck her lips between her teeth in an attempt to hide it. What the perdere?! Usually the thought of such a permanent union makes her run for the hills, but she is still here.
Concern knits her brow together as she suddenly remembers that sword through his chest in their last dream, but she doesn't have the time to sit here and grill this man for information. The one thing she does know is that she must keep that dream from coming true, she cannot lose Sapphire. Although, naga can shapeshift and maybe this is Reginae's way of toying with her because she could have found the hidden dream journal - who knows! The one thing she didn't write down was sharing her deepest darkest secret with him and Hawkeye, but she needs more time damn it! He is shrinking back into the shadows and she locks her gaze with his own, "trust me, please. I can explain so much more, but I need time and this might be unpleasant at first… Just stay- for me?" Her plea is sincere and she is afraid she is already asking too much, but she needs him to stay.
She turns towards the soldiers, her wings unfolding some in order to hide Mesdoram for a second in case it was a kill on sight command, "yes I am safe, Usadai." After taking a few steps back, she reaches a hand into the darkness where she had seen him shrink away into, until she is bent at the waist and her hand finds the folded hood of his robes. Gently she guides him to stand and then she takes his hand instead to pull him into the light with her, "I have found him. Queen Reginae will know exactly what to do with the intruder. Follow me, please, gentlemen - I will be taking this one to her," one of the guards looks visibly annoyed with Bre because of his facial expression while the other two simply seem stoic. The annoyed one flatly states, "we must check him for weapons, Brennia." Her wing curves behind Mesdorm in a protective manner while snapping, "don't you touch him." Brennia remembers his twin dirks from their dreams and knows he will not be handing those over willingly. The guards give each other a look, but the avian is already on their way to the palace, so they follow close behind and she gives a hidden reassuring squeeze to Mesdoram's hand.
Mesdoram glances up towards Brennia as she speaks softly and asks for his trust… The man has heard similar words before as the hair on his neck and arms begin to stand up – 'Trust me please…' Mesdoram does not like this encrypted message as he first believes he must fight his way out of here. '… this might be unpleasant, but stay for me?' The drow interprets this message that even if there is an imminent skirmish, Brennia does not want a battle… at least at this moment. The only thing that makes him trust Bre in this moment is her tone she conveys with; accompanied by her soft demeanor gazing back into his silvery eyes, Mesdoram elects to put his trust fully into Brennia.
The immediate voice change as Brennia addresses the Naga soldiers with such authority confuses Mesdoram for a moment; not that he believes Brennia incapable of striking fear and carrying a big stick, the sudden shift in her tone confirms to him that Bre’s is sincere and playing a role to get Mesdoram away unscathed… with his energy still not recharged yet, the drow doesn’t want to scuffle with three muscle-bound Nagas if he can help. After addressing the soldiers and pulling him into the light, the drow’s guard immediately perks up when they threaten to cease his weapons. But before the drow can retort with, 'you will try, water serpent,' and draw his weaponry, Brennia’s protective wing distracts his erratic temperament and calms his psyche instantly – also, hearing Brennia speak the words ‘don’t you touch him’ with such vigor and conviction further solidifies his trust in her. With Brennia successfully quelling this situation to prevent any fisty cuffs, Mes returns an affection squeeze back to his angel’s and releases her hand so he may take on his next role: the angry intruder being caught by Brennia and her entourage.
Throne Room
A glorious throne room, decked out in bright colors of emerald and amber, with only faint lights from candles that flicker from an unseen breeze that chills your skin. Before you is a massive throne, the crimson toned fabric lacing the seat and back of the chair made of a strange wood that seems to twist continually, as if it is still quite alive. Scenes of various landscape depicting swamps and ice topped mountains are strategically placed throughout this large room. A royal scepter lies off to the side, encased in a glass-like case, a large amber stone held tightly in a golden setting.
Brennia enters the throne room with Mesdoram protected under her wing and she is happy to find the Queen is still up, but that is probably because of the guards searching for that intruder. The intruder being the rather handsome drow with the Queen's lovely little songbird. "Pardon my intrusion My Queen," she bows deeply out of respect. "I believe I have found someone to join our efforts. May I present, Sapph- I mean… May I present, Mesdoram. This ever talented drow managed to slip past the city gate guards and send them on a hunt for the last hour. He can perform and sing as well, but I believe his most valuable asset to you would be in the shadows. He can disappear effortlessly and possibly assassinate any unforeseen threat to you," the avian is pleading his case and it may be a little obvious she wants him to stay more than he even would, but Regi did promise to find some fellow 'pets' to keep her company. "Not that the fearless and illustrious Queen Reginae cowers from any threat," she offers one of those adorable smiles which pokes dimples in her cheeks the Queen's way.
Mesdoram certainly is not in the UnderDark anymore… 'What sophisticated, aristocratic hell-hole have I just stumbled into?' The organized structure of hierarchy befuddles Mesdoram’s lone wolf mentality, but he does his best to analyze the perceived Alithrya’s pecking order as he walks through the Throne Room: 'So there is a Queen Reginae… another matriarchy society it would seem… foot soldiers, or should I say slither soldiers (a passing grin adorns his face at his internal joke), some higher ups and plebs too big for their own ego… and the lower peasants plus those who believe they are not expendable… and then me… their liberator or their demise.'
Feeling satisfied with his mental monologue, the drow finds himself still shrouded and safe inside Brennia’s wingspan and listens closely to her every word. His eyes narrow a bit as he tries to decipher her intentions and meanings of, 'valuable asset,' 'assassinate,' and watches closely to Queen Reginae’s face upon the sentence ‘Not that the fearless and illustrious Queen Reginae cowers from any threat.” The drow stands indifferent after Brennia’s introduction of himself, but does take two steps away for Brennia's safety. The drow honestly doesn’t quite know how to play this off at the moment but will perform his part.
However, maybe the opportune moment may have just presented itself as one of the Naga guards takes exception to Mesdoram’s two forward steps; with an angry hiss and serpentine movement, this guard stops roughly five feet from Mes and towers over the drow with his pike in the ready position to thrust– the tip of this weapon a mere three inches from drow’s tiny throat. Perhaps unbeknownst to the Queen, this soldier and drow have a brief history: during the Blood Bowl Tournament bout of Queen Reginae vs Mathollak, these two had some choice words for one another in Brennia’s presence. Immediately recognizing this Naga, a wry smile adorns the devilish drow’s face as his demeanor shifts into a much more sinister nature.
“Queen Reginae!” The Naga warrior addressed his leader. “This drow threatened Brennia in Valikrin during your battle with Mathollak! He cannot st –“ Before this fool can complete another word, Mesdoram smacks the Naga’s spear clear out of his muscular warrior’s grasp; the sheer amount of strength generated from (probably) the shortest man in the room embeds the weapon into an adjacent pillar. There is no more ‘play’ in Mesdoram’s silvery eyes as he stares daggers into the soul of this Naga. Remembering where he is, Mesdoram addresses the Queen before making any more moves.
“Forgive me, Queen Reginae. If I have insulted you or acted out of line, this was not my intention. I do not know your customs or traditions, but I am a willing learner…” Still engaged in a staring match with the raging Naga soldier, Mesdoram begins circling the fool like a vulture. “… but where I come from, there are teo things I despise the most: Liars and Cowards… which ‘you’ are.” To enunciate his ‘you’ more clearly, the drow points a finger at the Naga man… a roaring hiss followed by snapping jaws follows Mesdoram’s taunt, threatening to chomp off Mesdoram's appendage. But the drow is unphased and refuses to break eye contact with this much taller foe. “Upon your command, my Queen, I would gladly demonstrate my talents here in front of you… and to the rest of you, I say this…” As Mesdoram was speaking so brazenly in the Throne Room, a number of other enthusiastic Naga soldiers had circled the drow; however, these warriors seem to be a bit smarter and form a fifteen-foot perimeter around Mesdoram with their weapons in a passive position. “… do not mistake your numbers with courage; I shall show you no mercy.”
Mesdoram is all business now; this is no longer an act and will bury these Naga soldiers beneath the foundation. Many of the soldiers are taken aback at Mesdoram’s boldness… some even retreating to a safer distance. Finished with his threatening words, Mesdoram wraps his fingers around the hilt of his Earthly Elemental Broadsword, stares fear into the foolish Naga soldier without his weapon now, and is patiently waiting to prove his worth if he must.
Reginae was indeed awake. She sits sprawled, catty corner, on the throne like a petulant child. Her long alabaster serpent's tail drapes over the throne's arm, down the pedestal holding the throne aloft and well into the sparkling floor below. Her snowy white hair falls against the opposite throne arm, standing out against the gold she's perched on. Beside her is her dutiful and always put upon Queen's guard Yozenra. Yozenra stood tall, dark skin complimented by her purple dreadlocks and skeptical eyes, with an ornate spear in one hand. She had a luxurious party to plan, after all, and news of the intruder was pulling her away from that very important task. What was more important than her beautiful songbird!?
Speaking of that darling creature, who should walk in but Brennia with her wings (odd) spread out and a stranger in her company. The figure's glaring sapphire robes inspire one lofted brow before Reginae regally pulls herself upright and moves towards the pair with curious hesitation. Yozenra slithers forward a beat faster than the Queen, keeping her eyes trained on Mes like he'd strike Reginae at any moment. He'd have twenty feet of angry naga guard to tango with if he tried. Reginae trusts Brennia, why wouldn't she, so it's less alarm and more intrigue that backlights her azurite eyes as she looks him over. "My, my." She hums before setting her sights back on her beloved songbird to take her hands with overflowing affection. "My darling, of course your friend can stay." Reginae shoots a deadly glare at the guards who'd been fooled by Mes's arrival. There certainly would be hell to pay for their mistake. Brennia's words of praise softens the Queen's features further when her attention is back on the pair before her. "Always the silvered tongue." Regi purrs, clearly pleased by this observation. Her preening is interrupted by the brazen guard's approach at the drow's side.
Mes's quick reaction to throwing the guard off balance causes a reaction for Yozenra. The naga guard has pulled Brennia and Reginae back a few feet to place herself between The Queen and her most prized possession and this monstrous man throwing one of her men to the ground. "Cease!" The Queen's guard shouts but Mesdoram's monologue is set to continue despite her warning. Reginae, after checking that Brennia was safely at her side, narrows her eyes first at the guards and then at the newcomer. Rather verbose, she thinks, but Alithrya is a society that values strength and skill above all else. For him to have overtaken her guard so easily was a mark of weakness to her court if the offending guard wasn't dealt with and quickly.
"You allowed a stranger in with weapons?" Her azurite eyes gain a halo of black around her iris, visible waves of black drifting off her skin like heat waves off pavement. The whole room falls silent and still at her rhetorical question as the guards start to lose conviction. Liar, coward, or neither this guard has proven himself weak and as such dispensable. "Kill him. I have no use for incompetence." There's no hint of mercy as she gives the order. Yozenra's gaze bounces from Mesdoram, the guard he's cornered and the remaining guard. "Stand down." She calls to the soldiers, looking at them each in turn in case there's any mistake to whom she's speaking. The guard sentenced to death earns a simple shake of her head but Yozenra does not move from her position between the odd assassin and the Queen.
Brennia accepts the Queen's hands within her own and joy fills her when Sapphire is accepted into whatever this is. "Thank you most illustrious Queen," the bard softly compliments and then she shakes her head ever so slightly when her 'silver tongue' is pointed out. "Please, every word rings true," but then everyone's focus is pulled by Mesdoram and his impressive skills and Brennia cannot help the breathy, "Oh, my," that escapes her lips. She also moves to protect her Queen when Yozenra is on them like white on rice, but she continues to smile because she is thoroughly impressed by the drow. Difficultly, she refrains from swooning too obviously until she can feel the energy emitting from the Queen at her side.
Worry for Reginae replaces her swooning when she can see that black halo and now she is curving one of her wings around the naga in attempts to calm her. Brennia's eyes open wide when Reginae orders this certain guard to be killed and he is glaring right back at her. The guard hasn't exactly hidden his displeasure of Brennia and her extended stay here along with the special treatment she gets from HIS queen. Many ventures out with the Queen have resulted in the avian's pretty white or gold dress with dirt or mud on it because she happens to 'trip' a lot when he is assigned to Bre's protection detail. No matter what, Brennia has been courteous and sweet to the naga to no avail. It should be a relief that the Queen has ordered his death, but it doesn't sit right with her.
She peels her gaze away from the hot drow and naga glaring hatred into Brennia's skull to find her Queen's eyes, "please. My Queen," her slightly raspy timbre softens as she pleads. "I didn't let them check Mesdoram because I wanted him to be able to advertise his skill for you freely," only for a second does that naga look surprised that Brennia is attempting to save him. "I am so sorry your highness, please forgive me," tears threaten her eyes and they start to shine in the bright lights of the throne room. Maybe the guards shouldn't listen to Bre, but the fear she will tattle on them to the Queen anyway is a highly possible thing and they could get into trouble anyway. So, most guards try to just keep the avian happy within reason. She finds the naga's face again, but he still looks quite angry with her and instead waits for Yozenra to bring that fatal blow. Brennia also looks to Yozenra in a pleading matter because she knows it is a burden to have to follow through with executing her friends.
Mesdoram stands poised and ready to spring the killing blow as commanded by Queen Reginae, looking to prove himself loyal and one not to be trifled with. During their intense stare down, Mesdoram and the disowned Naga Soldier circle around one another until the drow is has Brennia, the Queen, and Yozenra behind his back; providing another buffer between the three higher up, the drow lowers his knees into an athletic position ready to spring forward and cut this naga down to size several times over. As Brennia pleads her case to the Queen, Mesdoram keenly studies every facial tick the Naga Solder inadvertently displayed to Mesdoram’s angel. Gnarly and growling in displeasure of his fate, the soldier whispers softly under his breath with great disdain seeping through his mouth. “Filthy half breed! You think you can alter my fate? I say we finish what you started, little runt… I will rip you in two, disgusting drow.”
Mesdoram has heard much worse and from more frightening creatures than this disgruntled warrior; the drow sarcastically smirks towards these petty threats and tediously taps his sword’s hilt, teasing his prey further. Though very, very subtle, Mesdoram does adjust his peripheral slightly to catch a glimpse of Brennia as she finishes her apologies for this unceremonious guest keeping his weaponry so close to the Queen and natives. The soldier catches on to Mesdoram’s momentary drop and snarls gleefully, whispering again to the tiny drow. “Oh… I see… you’re in league with the avian. Well, if I’m going down, half-bread, I’m taking someone with me!” The timbre snake-like voice crescendos loudly as the desperate warrior elects to out guns blazing; the fifteen-foot muscular serpent propels himself vehemently past the cynical drow still dawning a smug face of arrogance and confidence. This Naga’s kameezzes-like effort will fail greatly one way or another; but, like most inept employees, this fool has just signed his death warrant for a death much worse than if he would have accepted his fate like a man…
Green slitted eyes stare death into Brennia as the Naga attempts to take the avian to the underworld with him; the sheer spinelessness of this sea serpent enrages Mesdoram beyond comprehension. This soldier does not get within twenty feet of Brennia or the Queen as he is suddenly screaming in agony and anchored to the throne room’s glorious floor; unless their eyes are trained to detect the exceptional speed drows are capable of, Mesdoram had already unsheathed his earthly elemental brand into his right hand, taken several steps under the launching Naga’s assault on his Brennia, spoken a small incantation into his beryl terrestrial blade, and plunged his weapon down into the floor – penetrating the warrior through the thickest part of his scaly back and pinning him into the ground. As the blade’s spell activates, the floor where the sword embeds ebbs and sinks like quicksand, pulling this warrior downward into the soft earthly foundation. Panicking to stay a float, the Naga begs and pleads for rescue as his claws grind and scratch along the stone floors, offering little resistance… but these pathetic pleas infuriate Mesdoram even further.
Quickly cutting the air with his right hand, the quicksand’s vacuum like effect weakens tremendously and the naga now uses the last of his strength to successfully pull himself out of the earth: the Queen’s floor is now fully restored without a scratch, but the naga still has Mesdoram’s earthly brand implanted in his back. Struggling to slither upright, the Naga soldier barely stands eye level with the miniature Mesdoram; seeing this Naga suffer seems to bring a righteous smile to Mesdoram’s face as he begins his final attacks. “You know… if you really felt that way about Brennia and you could easily overpower any being with your brute strength… why would you wait until just now to do something about it?” The Naga looks frightened and unsure of himself now as the drow taunts him further. “I mean, I don’t want to start my relationship with the Queen and the Queen’s guard off on the wrong foot, so please excuse my phrasing here – but what kind of ‘snake’ are you, naga?” A deep seeded anger envelopes Mesdoram as a thought crosses his mind: if he had not come to Alithrya at this exact moment, left Cenril and Rynvale at the precise time he did, if he did not manage to find Dean Dewfoot-Barrows who pointed him to in the right direction to find his angel, Brennia… this coward would have killed Brennia out of spite and ruined their reunion – this thought does not sit well with Mesdoram as his rage intensifies exponentially.
Now scowling a terrifying glare at this Naga fool, Mesdoram finishes up his speech. “You know why I think you are a coward, you pathetic excuse of a body guard; because I have a theory my friend?” The drow places his left hand on the naga soldier’s shoulder in a sinister pat before delivering his final taunt. “… it’s because… you got… no… ‘guts’…” Once Mesdoram fully pronounces the word ‘guts’, his right hand unsheathes his left elemental dirk from his right hip’s scabbard and instantaneously plunges the full length of this three-foot blade into the belly of the beast; the Naga immediately winces in the pain and an involuntary gasp is released in shock due to the stabbing. Feeling satisfied with the initial thrust, Mesdoram then violently pushes his blade downward and then vertically to the right, spilling blood, organs, and bowel upon the Throne Room’s floor. Succumbing to the shock along with the initial pain from being pulled violently into the earth moments ago, the naga warrior collapses with his hands attempting to stop the bleeding and holding what appears to be his stomach in his hands… his efforts are in vain as the sudden drop in blood pressure causes him to sink into bliss before passing out from blood loss…
“My oh my… there they are…” Mesdoram points with his blood-soaked dirk downward at the soon-to-be dead warrior. “There’re your guts! Right there! How emmmmmbaarrrassssing for me! I guess I was wrong, you do have guts! I don’t think I’ve ever been this wrong in my entire life!” Those being the last words this naga will ever hear in this realm: cut down in half by a warrior four times smaller than he was… threatening his angel proves to be a very poor choice. After the fallen warrior dies a coward’s death, Mesdoram wipes off the blood on the Naga’s clothes, sheathes his blade, and turns to face Brennia, Yozenra, and to Queen Reginae: all donning very different faces from the events that just transpired. “Queen Reginae… I would have gladly given him a warrior’s death and made his passing quick and painless… but in his cowardice threaten to kill the avian to your left and take her from you… my only regret is that he had only one life for me to take.” Peering around to the other Naga soldiers still drawing breath, Mesdoram turns to face Yozenra. “You… leader of the queen’s guard. My blades will not penetrate another one of your comrade’s flesh again… so long as you look to vet your flock better. Who’s to say this coward laying dead would not rage and take our Queen’s life in a fit of childish rage like he just displayed?!” Mesdoram chooses his words very precisely when addressing Yozenra… deliberately and wholeheartedly using the phrase ‘our queen’ to instill reason, confidence, and trust to this obviously competent warrior and leader.
Before returning to the Queen’s attention again, Mesdoram does take a second to stare a bit softer to Brennia – this is the first time Mesdoram has had to show brute and decisive force in front of her; the anticipation of her thoughts his actions swell the man with some uncertainty… but that is for another day. Turning back to Queen Reginae in a professional posture, the drow bows and politely speaks to the Queen. “My blades are yours, my Queen… to do what you command. What would you have me do now, my Queen.” Stoically and patiently waiting, Mesdoram waits for it to come next – exuding confidence, but a bit of dread does fill his drow body.
Reginae lifts her hand to gently rest it on Brennia's gleaming hair. Whatever violence lived in her eyes the moment before was forgotten in favor of softness for her precious 'guest'. "Even with your noble defense, this rat speaks out against you." Her lips flatten mirthlessly. "I can't allow this offense to stand." Let alone the other transgressions that were mounting on the naga by the minute. "Dearest, you've done nothing wrong. This is customary." And for Naga culture it was. They favored battle prowess above all else. If this guard couldn't hold his own against an opponent, even a non-naga, Reginae saw no use in keeping him around. Usually a death in a fight would bring great respect for the warrior in question, but this man continues to lash out with filthy words and diminishing his standing further. Yozenra could only watch as the Queen handed the naga's fate to Mesdoram. If not him, Yozenra or Reginae personally would have carried out the same sentence. The Queen's guard recalled when Emilia had been stuck repeatedly by their former tailor and how the Queen had strung up the poor naga's body during a banquet. Ichor leaking from his eyes and mouth like he's drowned in tar. A miserable death brought on by the Queen's advancing magic and madness.
Reginae isn't sure she approves of playing with her prey the way Mesdoram is, but it was his hunt to complete. She knew very little of drow. Only Gevurah, who she'd made a lovely little pact with, came to mind. When her rogue employee lunges for Brennia, Reginae pulls her close, turning away and crushing her against her chest while Mesdoram disables him. A brief panic for Brennia's life makes the magic flare visibly off her body; black waves that would give Brennia an uneasy feeling. No doubt the poor avian is already feeling uneasy with all the commotion. Her eyes shift ever so briefly to a color that did not belong to her. The slick sound of Mes's blade through scale and skin pulls Reginae's raging focus back to the drowning guard as he sputters for purchase to no avail. Quicksand? An interesting development. Her hold on Brennia slacks enough that she can pull away if she's inclined to watch what happens next. Mes lets the naga out of his sandtrap. Her skin bristles at the insult of 'snake', even though it's not aimed at her. A bit racist, that. This process is turning into a dreadfully stressful situation for Brennia by Regi's account, so her patience starts to wear thin. If not for Brennia, Reginae might have enjoyed the gory theatrics the drow was presenting.
Cocky, wasn't he? This assassin Brennia's brought to the palace. The rest of the guard have pushed themselves back along the entrance to the throne room, eager to avoid a misunderstanding or likewise slaughter like that of their former fellow guard. Yozenra arcs a heavy sigh as she straightens and slacks, the danger seems to have passed...away. Rather gruesomely. What a mess to clean up. If Regi kept permitting these deaths, the palace will be sparse before long. Looking overly put upon, Yozenra regards Mes with a mix of skepticism and some level of respect for his skill. The skepticism came, of course, from his true alignment. A drow being loyal to a naga Queen? It didn't sit right with her.
Reginae's expression shows mild annoyance for the theatrics but she couldn't deny he'd been able to overcome the naga soldier easily. Embarrassingly so. Brennia'd spoken true, the man was skilled. She'd expect nothing less from her lovely songbird. "Understandably." She replies to his explanation of why he'd gone forward with the execution so brutally. Not that he needed to, but she knew little about him. It might serve to better understand his motives and mentality. Yozenra's face morphs into a deep scowl when Mes precedes to instruct her on how to lead her army. "You underestimate the Queen if you'd think such a man might take her life." Her tone is strained so as to not offend. If they were alone, her tongue would be sharper. Who did he think he was? Reginae'd completely released Brennia once the naga's gut were torn free from his body. The threat was eliminated, so she'd no doubt be able to meet Mesdoram's softened gaze.
As he addresses Reginae again, the Queen's expression is unchanged. Residual waves continue to pulse off her skin with a slowing pace. Her rage, born of her dead guard, would find peace long after their exchange here. "Yozenra will escort you to your quarters in the palace. For now, my only request is that you protect Brennia from any other would be threats and dispel of them with equal severity should they threaten her." She pauses, locking his gaze with deadly seriousness. "Should something befall her, it'll be your life Mesdoram." It's clear that Reginae would wage endless wars to protect Brennia but she couldn't always be by her side. Mesdoram would have an easier time guarding her. Yozenra moves past them all, barking orders at the guards to start the clean up of the mess. Reginae turns back to Brennia, her voice sweet as sugar cane. "Is that alright my dearest darling? Are you comfortable with this companion?"
Brennia is far too distracted by the disrespectful naga and how he is obviously rejecting her help to notice her ink pattern beginning to swirl two dimensionally on her skin because of his threats towards Mesdoram. She has only dreamt of the man, unknowing their connection was real until a moment ago, but she feels their fates are entwined somehow and she must protect him. Then the Queen is running her fingers through her hair and she looks up at the woman with a soft expression as she turns into the rare touch a little more. Lush lips part during the explanation as if she is trying to form words, but they fail her and she merely says, "yes, my Queen."
Suddenly she is pulled into Reginae's protective embrace and her arms automatically wrap around the woman as well as her wings follow suit, wrapping them in a cocoon of comfortable darkness. Only a few other guards will go on to tell the tale that the avian's wings had turned to stone that day and only for a couple of seconds. They'd go on to describe; it was as if a beautiful sculpture of feathered wings hewn from black tourmaline stone would have been seen by those happening to look at the exact moment. Each feather was masterfully detailed in the jagged stone with a deadly point at their ends, but you'd blink and the usual lustrous black as night feathered wings were normal all along… or are they? There is just something not right with that avian.
No one else will see the magic radiating off the Queen due to the protective shield Brennia's wings form, but the avian feels it as her own ink begins to rise somewhat to intertwine with that magic, that rage - whatever it is. Raven is getting a taste and wanting more. As there is no impact to be had and a thud heard, Brennia hesitantly unfolds them from her wings in order to peak at the carnage. The chaos makes her heart beat faster and surely the Queen can feel it with their torsos pressed firmly together with the naga's protection, even though the silly weak avian attempts to also protect her Queen. The more they watch, the heavier her breathing becomes as she cannot peel her gaze away.
She is no stranger to the darker things with how long she put up with Raven's own chaotic antics before she calmed down. The Queen might find a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her parted lips because her jaw is dropped in awe of Mesdoram… her Sapphire. The naga Queen and Brennia untangle from one another causing that tattoo pattern to come to a halt once more. It seems both Regi and Brennia harbor a darker side, but maybe that is what draws them together time after time. Mesdoram will not find fear or apprehension from the avian as she locks her stare right back while her breathing is still a little elevated and her smile is softly sweet. Her smile grows a little when the Queen gives him the task of protecting her and Brennia courteously bows her head with a little curtsy while accepting the order with, "of course my gracious Queen. I am endlessly grateful to you."
It appears they are being dismissed and a random guard is appointed by Yozenra to escort them to the guest room corridor so they may find a suitable arrangement for the songbird's new bodyguard - preferably one where their rooms are close so Mesdoram may fulfill his duties. She bows deeply and respectfully to Reginae before falling in step with Mesdoram while they are guided to their rooms.
Mesdoram grins a very satisfied smirk as Queen Reginae lays out his assignment of Brennia’s personal bodyguard; though he does not see this job as a promotion, the drow is all business and will not allow a soul to even get to the planning stage of killing Brennia – should a fool be so brazen to touch the Queen’s songbird and his angel, he would keep the moron alive for several years as a play thing… let them ponder their poor decision making skills as the wasted away forever in prison… and just when the would be assassin is knocking on death’s door, Mesdoram would find healers and bring the withering husk of the fool back to full health and let them suffer in a perpetual circle of never-ending despair. His smile intensifies even more as Queen Reginae describes the consequences should Mesdoram fail at his job. “May my death be as gruesome should I fail you, my Queen.” Mesdoram is quite intrigued by the dark energy emitting off of Reginae… but will inquire about this magic on another day.
The drow gives the Queen a proper nod, a sarcastic wink at Yozenra, and a disapproving scowl at the random soldier tasked with escorting Bre and Mes to their quarters. As Mesdoram strides in step with Brennia, the naga soldier attempts to slither in between the couple to do his job properly; there is no ill intent from this naga, but that is not how Mesdoram sees it. Angrily staring at this man, Mesdoram blocks the soldier and prevents him from coming between him and Bre (he might have also grabbed one of the naga’s fingers and flung him across the Throne Room floor, scooting along the hard floor). “In front of us, naga. Do not try that again.” Brennia’s body guard is all business – he does not yet know the relationship between Brennia and the other nagas; however, since one just tried to murder his angel out of spite and cowardice, it will take several years before the drow would ever contemplate allowing them to slither so close to Brennia. The Naga shows a bit of fight, but ultimately elects not to challenge Mesdoram… not out of fear of being disemboweled like his comrade, but out of respect for the tiny drow’s command in his voice. As the Naga man leads the way, Mesdoram peers up to Brennia and offers a kind smile and a playful wink as the couple walk in tandem to their rooms for the evening.