RP:Rejecting the Prek

Part of the Conquest:The Return of the Prek Arc

Summary: Arien meets with Triyul upon his request. The Preklek offers the security of her clan and city in exchange for her co-operation with plans for the advance of the prek, and is rebuffed by the paladin. War seems inevitable.Arien discovers Triyul is Helich.

Characters: Arien. Triyul

LOCATION: Sacred shrine, Kelay

The idyllic archway to the south throbs with a life of its own, bathing the surrounding vegetation with a pulsing, viridian glow. As you peer into its depths, you realize you can no longer see through to the town that resides just outside. The tall brush seems to form a living wall, encircling this sacred shrine and isolating all who enter. The ground here is covered in soft, springy greenery, spiralling inward to several stone pillars that sprout forth from the living earthen base. A large granite slab balances miraculously atop, providing shelter for the small marble altar ensconsed within. As you wander the perimeter, the faint sounds of whispered voices and splashing water lead you to a passageway hidden within the deep bramble.

Arien walked a slow circle of the perimeter of the shrine, emerald gaze ever watchful to the southern flank of the wall of green that seemed, almost mystically to entrap her in living embrace. Pale lips moved quietly in murmured prayer, and to any who might be familiar with the energies of elemental magics, it would be evident that the air thrummed with unseen power-leashed, barely, but available upon uttered word to become weapon and protector to the elf who waited alone. Alone , but for the fact that every element in this place from living entity to flowing water served her silent guard. Every fiber of her being resisted the idea of meeting with the Prek..but Rose’s letter, she had to be sure..she would know, when she saw his eyes. The soul did not lie. Lids fluttered closed and she could feel his hands about her throat, feel his mind wrapping around her own..see the blackness before her eyes. It could not be. He was dead. And this meeting would confirm it. Slender fingers flexed, restless, hovering close to the hilt of her dagger..he was, late. Moonlight streamed through the foliage to land upon the marble, reflection casting a myriad of light and shadow in the sheltered place. It was time this was over with.

Triyul was late. But eventually he did meander in. Yet as he attempted to pass through the threshold of that shrine - he would pause only half way through. A disparaging glance around from beneath a helm that appeared almost like an insect. With every step, this shrine of peace would...the pulsing air was dead around him, near him, it was here Arien would surely feel the soul of this Preklek. A clone's soul, with a dragon's mind. The combination left conflict, constantly shifting eyes - somethings never changed. Yet, unlucky for Arien, they were covered by that helm. A thin layer of dark glass resided over the item, which resembled an odd cricket's head more than anything. Pausing was easy, every step closer to that altar was begining to make him feel -- queasy. "Arien." A single word - the accent. But still, how could she know for sure? He knew the game to play, the wrist to bind. Yet things never seemed to go how he anticipated.

He was here. She felt him, sensed him even before the parting of the greenery. The spike in her mana that occurred in the presence of his Black dragon essence, even if the house that sheltered it would have triggered no such alarm, a betrayal of his arrival. Her brow knit in momentary confusion, the warring of identities and energies that came from the armored body causing temporary lapse in concentration. Emerald gaze flew to that face, a soft sound of frustration stifled at the presence of the helmet, the shield that gave him automatic advantage-for he could read her, while she stood before a wall. Her name leapt across the empty darkness between them, and she stilled, frozen like a rodent caught in a trap. That voice. “You say my name, like it has meaning for you Preklek..and yet we have never met.” Her own voice was a melodic ripple, directed with intent to wrap around alien soul. “My people, consider it dishonorable to hide ones face in meeting-especially of such grave import. An you mean well, you will remove the helm.” The elf kept her focus upon the alien. Something..about that energy. She needed to see his eyes.

Triyul knit digits behind that helm, a man truly taking his ease - from outward appearences. That archaic drawl continued, and a hint of a smile fell between every syllable - "I am not one of you. Where is Marcoth?" Simple and to the point, he still weighed odds and options - but the checkered board was being set up. The pawns placed, the bishops, the rooks. The game was soon to be played. "Cultures differ. Arien." Her name, how it slid off his tongue! Emphasis on it..."But for the sake of peace. Peace." Mumbled, the second time around, that helm seems to open from behind - and fall to the ground. As soon as that helm left his head, as soon as his gaze fell upon her - this place - the darkness he tracked into this harbinger of calm grew with intensity. Those eyes. They mocked her. Those same, unblinking eyes that brought fear to so many with just a glance.

Arien’s gaze was watchful as the helm was eventually removed, after it seemed, some internal deliberation on the matter on the part of the creature. His observation, taunting and yet not, seemed to hang in the air between them. He had a point she supposed, some might consider it arrogance to assume that another should always act in accommodation of self. And yet.. “ That much is evident preklek..” she had not yet called him by name. “ For the people of these lands to not rage of burning its forests to the ground in one breath, and speak of peaceful meetings in another. They are nothing, if not consistent.” Her tone sharpened as gaze fell upon the dark, unblinking gaze, and she found herself likewise unblinking in meeting it. A chill ran down her spine at the sight of the cold amphibious features. The people of these lands had lived in fear of his kind..for so long. And now it was set to begin again. “Marcoth attends..other matters of greater import to my state at the moment. I am sure he will be pleased to meet with you when you will. He is not fond of threats made to his fleet.” The elf turned away from the sight for a second, to move a few paces away before turning to face Triyul once more. “ What do you want Triyul? Why have you summoned me hence? Be swift in your report..for to be sure your games with words and deed remind me much of another whom I would rather not bring to memory.” With the physical appearance of the alien dominating her senses now, what impression of the Black might linger had been momentarily pushed aside, forgotten in the face of more current threat.

Triyul :: Caution now, first pawn moved two squares toward the other side of the board - "The fact of the matter is, dear Arien, that mine -are- going to occupy this land. Mayhap not all, tis wrong to assume such. These Prekleks, they --" He cut himself short, eyes widening at the slip. Hands clasped behind back, he'd turn on her - using study of the living wall as an excuse. Tension, a knot in his shoulders. Like the dagger slipping between. "We are going to take, give, and take. Your compound will be spared, your island, for a small promise. Arien." Now came the knight, to protect that pawn. "Duty is lighter than a feather, heavier than a mountain no?"

Silence hung between the pair for a few precious moments, and then it was broken by a soft, incredulous chuckle that rippled from the female. “ How little you know us..even having faced us once before, and lost.” she murmured. “ Do you not realize…that my greatest duty to my people has been to ensure their freedom? I can think of none who serve under me, in clan, or on isle, who would choose to live under occupation rather than die a free creature. You place yourself at immediate disadvantage if you do not acknowledge this about our nature. We will fight you..for every square foot. Cease your offerings, for you will get no promise from me..” There was a stubborn tilt to that delicate jaw, and a light in her eyes that challenged the fire of tresses that caught moonbeam’s caress. So lost was she in reaction to the bizarre suggestion, that she had missed the preklek’s slip of tongue.

Triyul offers a slow nod of understanding. "Some things never change. I hope your shoulder does not pain you, still. Such an acidic...burn as that." Let her chew on that. Bishop to C3. And with that, helm retrieved, he departed.