RP:Passing Familiarity

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: Gevurah and a shrunken entourage pass through Xalious. Their attention is absorbed with the crisis in Trist'oth. Walking in the opposite direction comes Larewen. From the sky approached a red-tailed hawk, Gilwen in disguise. Larewen overhears Daath's name and takes an interest in Gevurah. The priestess asks how Larewen knows Daath, and the vampiress mentions the Necromancer's Guild. With nothing more to add, Gevurah leaves.

Pass Through Xalious

Gevurah keeps a lower profile these days. With more than half of Trist’oth wanting her head on a spike, it seems best to move for function and not flash. Her usual entourage of five rogues has been paired down to one rogue and the D’Artes chamberlain and political spy, Izzerin. Bustles and gloves have been eschewed in favor of more practical clothing: a cloth corset and a free-flowing, full-length black skirt. Although it would be wise to veil her face and not bear the insignia of House D’Artes, to hide would be cowardice, and thus the noble runs the risk. Furious whispers pass between Izzerin and his mistress, matched by furious, soundless steps underfoot. They speak in drow, but a keen listener with special hearing and a passion for eavesdropping on angry priestesses may hear the name ‘Daath’ uttered by Gevurah.

Larewen was not dressed down, in any form or fashion, but that was solely because the dark sorceress had no necessity for disguise. She walked calmly, quietly along the road, gloved fingers curled into her skirt and bustle, hoisting it carefully so that it did not drag the dirt. The elf's features were obscured mostly by a dark veil attached to a fedora upon her head, but the point of her ears was clearly visible: sylvan. Dark eyes fell upon the angry priestess and her small entourage, the vampire easily picking up Daath's name upon their words. This drew a curious smirk upon her lips and her steps slowed. She made no effort to hide her interest in Gevurah.

Gevurah had not consciously been paying attention to sound of Larewen’s footfalls, but their slowing rhythm breaks through to her. A glare lifts to meet the vampire’s interest. The sylvan silhouette, dressed in dark fineries and a shroud of evil, momentarily stays Gevurah’s hand. Her fingers content themselves to twitch tensely before her chest, their tips already glowing black. “What do you want?” She barks the question in common. Izzerin, a loyal snake and a coward, bows out from between the women and presses himself against the safety of stone.

Larewen seemed unperturbed by Gevurah's glower. In fact, the twitch of her lips upward from smirk to grin belied the elf's amusement. Dark eyes followed the movement of the priestess's hand, the dark glow of her magic not escaping the dark sorceress's observation. Her chin lifted upward in a greeting that would briefly expose her throat, as if she were being testy to the woman's companions. When Izzerin relocated to what he deemed a safer location, the elf's dark stare flicked toward him and a soft peal of haunting laughter left her throat. Her answer to Gevurah's query came at a delayed moment, as if the elf might be attempting to try the other's patience. "I want many things," she replied, vaguely. "You spoke Daath's name, that naturally garners my interest."

Gevurah lowers her hand when the sorceress does not mirror her aggression. The black light recedes. “Tell me what business you have with him.” The priestess wears a permanent scowl. Few things ever amuse her. She rarely laughs condescendingly or smirks, but one can’t shake the feeling when in her company that they don’t matter. The D’Artes rogue keeps a hand on his crossbow, just in case. He’s paid to be cautious.

Larewen was much of the same mind, when it came to her opinions of others - save for a select few. A pointed look was shot toward the rogue whose hand was at the ready before her attention returned to the priestess. The elf's eyes narrowed for a moment, her mirth slowly abandoning her once more. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. Gevurah had no more business knowing that than she had knowing why the priestess was speaking of him, but a few moments thought told her that taking that approach to the query would gain her nothing. Ever hungry for knowledge, whether it was relevant to her own hunger for power or not, Larewen finally answered with a truthful, "He is the headmaster of my guild."

After returning from her mission in the Underdark and laying low for a few days, per the council’s request, Gilwen finally sought freedom from the arguing that came with a seat at the council table, and wished for warmer climates; despite the length of time her people had spent in Frostmaw’s territory, the druid had never acclimated to the weather, and considered it near torture to remain in the frosty lands. So, the elf braved the descent of the mountain, and the potential dangers associated with the road that ran through Sage, simply to offer prayer to Lauria without prying ears and eyes. To ensure a modicum of facelessness, she had opted to take the form of a red tailed hawk with the intention to transition back into her human form once within the vicinity of the Sage; it felt –right- to pray to her goddess while nearest her homelands, it left her feeling more at peace. However, as her winged form flew a path that skirted the roads that allowed golden eyes to view the sparse travelers, Gilwen caught sight of Gevurah and her small posse, and the strange woman who seemed to be in conversation with the Drow priestess. Curiosity got the better of the elder, and she stopped to perch within a tall tree that lacked foliage due to its elder status and dying state. From there, the druid sat, watched and listened.

Gevurah‘s shoulders relax when Larewen answers. The vampire could be lying, but Gevurah has a hunch that she speaks the truth. “Ah, I see.” Gilwen’s shadow distracts the priestess from her conversation.However, giving Gilwen no more than a cursory glance, she fails to recognize the hawk. She regards Larewen once more and shrugs faintly as if to say, ‘I don’t know what to do with you.’ The necromancer’s guild matters only intellectually to a High Priestess of Vakmatharas, and these days Gevurah is far too busy handling a crisis in Trist’oth to waste time on intellectual pursuits. She continues on her path giving Larewen a wide berth. Izzerin peels away from the wall to follow his mistress.

Larewen was either unaware, or showed no interest in the red tailed hawk, and why should she? Larewen had no interest in birds, and certainly no affinity for nature. Enough years in death had passed that she shared little to no connection with her own ilk, as well. Gevurah's voice arrested her attention in what would be a final time, once more coaxing an upward lift of her dark brows. Again, her expression fell victim to amusement. It was such a strange choice of words and as Gevurah made to step around her, Larewen turned slightly to regard the departing priestess. "That's a strange one," she vocally noted.

Gevurah is very strange. That what happens when you have Tiphareth for a role model. Poor behavioral choices. She leaves in pursuit of her few, narrow interests.

Gilwen , despite the innate want to cause physical harm to Gevurah and her entourage, instead remains perched. If the High Priestess's direction indicates Sage to be her destination, the plan to pay respects and give thanks to Lauria would be abandoned for a safer alternative- like returning to Frostmaw and freezing.