RSVP: Lady Enchantress

Within a bleak collection of trees.
The hypnotic scent of roses lingers in the air, permeating the terrain in an array of sweet aromas from a healing shrine of Viravain nearby. The stream trickling from the northwest reaches its end, spiralling down granite bedrock into a deep cavity, whose crumbling soil walls are held together by roots. Blood flows into the hollow with a soft, almost soothing, sussuration, punctuated by crystalline clinks as single crimson droplets strike the liquid surface. Stark trees surround the pool, their crooked bare branches stripped of leaf and fruit. The dry undergrowth crackles as small creatures move furtively through it. A lump of fur or a thin spider-like leg protrudes from the withered foliage now and then, unusual, unsettling, and spotted with dark stains. A churning pool of blood is here, filled continuously from the crimson Blood Falls as hazy images of a cold steel bridge swirl below its dark surface. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. An unnatural gloom surrounds a Daughter of Darkness, filling the air with an oppressive silence.
You see exits leading west and northwest.

A gust of chill wind creeps in, ushering fragrant indigo smoke that dances across the floor. The scent is enticing, invigorating, yet the atmosphere cools noticeably.

You blink.

You tilt your head curiously.

"Ah, little bug," a lilting smoky voice whispers right besides you, "What fanciful and important errands the Lady of Thorns sends you on."

You have emoted: Gurashi studies his feet, then looks back out towards the pool. At the tone of the voice, he suddenly shudders, antennae drooping a bit.

Slowly looking towards the direction of the voice, you ask, "...what is fanciful?"

"How long will She find you useful before She discards you like so many things She once favoured? I wonder. Perhaps already?" With that last utterance, the breath of the speaker brushes against your mandibles on the right and you realise Drocilla is standing right behind you, pressed against your back, where a second ago there was nothing. Almost as tall as you, Her right cheek rests upon your shoulder, head tilted to look upon your profile. Her right hand is holding one of your arms in an unbreakable grip of steel-taloned fingers.

You blink.

LOOK
Within a bleak collection of trees.
The hypnotic scent of roses lingers in the air, permeating the terrain in an array of sweet aromas from a healing shrine of Viravain nearby. The stream trickling from the northwest reaches its end, spiralling down granite bedrock into a deep cavity, whose crumbling soil walls are held together by roots. Blood flows into the hollow with a soft, almost soothing, sussuration, punctuated by crystalline clinks as single crimson droplets strike the liquid surface. Stark trees surround the pool, their crooked bare branches stripped of leaf and fruit. The dry undergrowth crackles as small creatures move furtively through it. A lump of fur or a thin spider-like leg protrudes from the withered foliage now and then, unusual, unsettling, and spotted with dark stains. A churning pool of blood is here, filled continuously from the crimson Blood Falls as hazy images of a cold steel bridge swirl below its dark surface. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. An unnatural gloom surrounds a Daughter of Darkness, filling the air with an oppressive silence. Completely motionless, a slender leothin intently surveys its surroundings. Drocilla, the Enchantress dominates Her surroundings with regal poise, impossibly radiant and beautiful.
You see exits leading west and northwest.

LOOK DROCILLA damn girl
She is a radiant immortal and is breathtaking to behold, radiating a painfully sublime and gentle beauty that inexplicably drains the vibrancy and colour from all else in the room. Shimmering with an eerie effulgence, Her almond-shaped eyes are a cruel, sharp lavender; sculpted with grey and violent shadows, they draw the onlooker with their mystical allure. Her tawny skin is creamy and flawless - the visage of utter beauty, elegance and perfection - and Her high cheekbones are touched by the gentle shade of a rose. The glossy scarlet red of Her lips stands out against these soft hues with a generous fullness that makes them deliriously tempting. Every subtle movement of Her perfectly poised figure exudes a raw confidence that dominates Her surroundings, Her superlatively shaped jawline held with regal posture. Intoxicating and addictive, an entrancing scent drifts in Her wake like a cloak of perfumed silk.
Her silken hair, a hundred shades of burnished gold, is pinned like a crown of molten gold atop a visage of utter perfection. The thick, detailed braids wrap about the head with nary a disobedient wisp in a polished updo that wreathes Her face in a smouldering halo.
She is wearing:
a set of armour rings of blackened silver over the knuckles of Her right hand;
a twinkling sapphire cuff bracelet clinging to Her left wrist;
a bewitching gown of lambent gold beading and coruscating darkness.

Looking ready to take on the world, a fluffy royal blue llama enters from the south.

You see the following people here:
Drocilla, Kyalrhin, Gurashi.

Kyalrhin blinks.

Muttering in a barely audible whisper, Kyalrhin Ysav'rai says, "Huh, how curious."

Kyalrhin turns her attention towards you as her ears perk up in interest.

You have emoted: Gurashi stares, surprised, at the appearance of Drocilla against him, eyes wide as dinner platters.

Kyalrhin reaches over and ruffles your hair with a fond expression.

With a wistful look on her face, Kyalrhin touches the Pool of Blood and Shadows.
Blood slowly congeals around Kyalrhin's fingertips, creeping up her arm and staining it crimson.

Suddenly, Kyalrhin is sucked into the Pool of Blood and Shadows.
A fluffy royal blue llama leaves to the ether while gazing around protectively.

Quickly turning red in confusion, you say to Drocilla, "...u-u-uhm."

The luxurious, exotic perfume of the Enchantress wraps about you like a shawl while She stands so close, its warmth and heady scent promising your heart's darkest desires.

Purplish leaves blow along in a chill wind, tearing as they catch on the gnarled fingers of upturned roots.

Drocilla's gaze of sultry lavender eyes remains fixed upon your profile, ignoring any disturbance. A wicked smile curves Her ruby lips as She almost purrs the words, "I am so very intrigued by the invitation, bardling. I wanted you to know that." She releases you then, stepping back and letting your wings stretch. "But do you understand the danger She put you in by suggesting you invite Me specifically? Does She value you so little?"

You have emoted: Gurashi clears his throat, looking both very uncomfortable and very confused. "...oh, ehm, b-but," He starts to explain, raising an unimpeded arm to gesture gently, "w-w-would have invited D-Divines anyway, maybe... wait, why danger?"

You blink.

Clearing his throat again and buzzing louder than before, you ask Drocilla, "Must be, ehm - M-M-Miss Lady Enchantress?"

Her gaze never leaving yours, Drocilla glides around you, followed by a trail of coruscating darkness cast by the train of Her gown. "What do they teach of the Twelve within Glomdoring, Gurashi? Do you have the slightest grasp of divine politics?" She asks sweetly, Her hands resting comfortably within the pockets of Her voluminous skirts.

A flare of light explodes in your mind's eye as the Luminous Circlet of Concord goes into play.

You have emoted: Gurashi does his best to follow Drocilla's movements, though he can't quite seem to make his legs move to turn, forced to spin around the other side to resume his watchful gaze. "...ehm," He shrugs, "Not really. Mean, -sort- of..."

As the Goddess moves, something that was right there is abruptly farther away. A rhythm that you realise was flowing towards you while She stood behind you, which now ebbs and follows Her. It is an entrancing melody, dark and beautiful, and you sense rather than actually hear it sung in an undecipherable, mellifluous language.

Your mandibles twitch slightly as you voice a brief, curious chirr.

Faintly buzzing, you ask Drocilla, "...b-but, if She wanted us to invite, then, how could say no?"

You tilt your head curiously at Drocilla.

The corner of Her lips twitching, Drocilla explains, "You should amend that. This was not an invitation, darling, this was a slight. A provocation. And you..." She pauses, head tilted back, Her lavender eyes observing you from beneath generous eyelashes, "...are its messenger." She smiles then, an arresting smile that dims the world around Her.

You blink.

Sweetly, Her voice a lilting melody which harmonises with the song all around you, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Should I kill the messenger?"

Surprised, you ask Drocilla, "...what?"

Almost in disbelief, you say to Drocilla, "No, am sure invited because wants to be part of festival."

Suddenly, you say, "Wait."


You have emoted: Gurashi quickly steps back, pointing at himself. "Kill..." His voice raises, "me?"

Tilting Her head to the side, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Do you invite your enemies to parties often, dear?"

Quickly waving his hands, you exclaim to Drocilla, "Oh, n-no no no didn't mean it as a slight!"

Faintly buzzing, you exclaim to Drocilla, "Eh? Uhm, d-do not know! Have never thrown a party before!"

Faintly buzzing, you say to Drocilla, "A-and ...."


You have emoted: Gurashi begins to wring his hands together, looking towards the ground. "Mean, politics change all of the time? So, uhm."

You sweat profusely as you wring your hands nervously.

Laughing softly, the sound like a chandelier tinkling pleasantly, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Not divine politics. The slight was meant by Her, little bug, not by you."

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

Faintly buzzing, you say, "Oh..."

You have emoted: Gurashi reaches up to scratch his head. "That sounds... exhausting."

You sense a powerful presence trace itself along the edges of your mind, riffling through your thoughts without truly examining them carefully. It is more akin to one flicking through a library catalogue or skimming a page. The discomfort ends when Drocilla gazes off to the side, Her golden profile delineated against the darkness. "How lost you are in your bubble, Child of the Wyrd. The world does not consist just of festivities, fine foods, songs, or flutterings of the heart."

You blink.

Purplish leaves blow along in a chill wind, tearing as they catch on the gnarled fingers of upturned roots.

You blush furiously.

The haunting dirge echoing in Her voice, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Would that it were so. Yet the pendulum swings between Creation and Destruction, ever one step closer to oblivion. And you, here, wreathed in your wyrden ideology, are as ensnared as you are blind to it."

You have emoted: Gurashi opens his mouth, then shuts it - opens it again, closes it quickly. His head tilting to the side as he listens.

Looking back to you and dismissing Her own ruminations with a shake of Her head, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "You will be so kind and deliver a message to Viravain for Me in turn, won't you, Gurashi?"

Finally finding his voice, you exclaim to Drocilla, "...u-uhmm, of course!"

Bizirik, the leothin stares implacably at Drocilla.

"Good," Drocilla breathes out and then is right in front of you, only wisps of fog left to disperse where She stood before. Her lips twitch slightly, a ghost of a smile that never reaches Her eyes, now a pale lavender veined with grey.

Bizirik, the leothin's expression never changes, though it watches the Goddess with caution, nostrils flaring.

You blink.

Faintly buzzing, you ask, "...w-wait! What was the message?"

Your eyes bug out as you boggle in amazement.

You think to yourself: Was that a No?

You think to yourself: Think that was a no...

Something metallic taps against your left mandible, held in Drocilla's hand, and She slides it down low enough that you can see it - a cruel hunting knife, surprisingly utilitarian when contrasted with the decadent luxury of everything else about the Goddess. She holds it below your head in a way that forces you to look straight at Her or risk a cut.

The images within the Pool of Blood and Shadows swirl and change.

Her voice sweet, slow, deliberate, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Tell Her... I am so very pleased to hear She still has sufficient mental faculties left at Her disposal as to remember a world exists outside the Wyrd."

Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "And that I may just... take Her up on Her offer to visit Glomdoring during its festival activities."

You have emoted: Gurashi stares at Drocilla, dumbfounded, antennae falling once again.

Drocilla draws the knife away from your thorax, it never being a threat. "After all, I very much enjoyed My activities with Her Brother. Tell Her that."

You stare implacably at Drocilla.

You stare blankly at Drocilla.

Offering you a charming smile as She presses the weapon into one of your hands hilt first, Drocilla gives a cruel hunting knife to you.

A dark and seductive voice murmurs in your ear enticingly as Drocilla dissipates into a velvety indigo mist, leaving in Her wake a sense of unrestrained longing.

Clearly confused, though he accepts the knife gingerly, you say, "...O-K, will tell Her."

You stare implacably at a cruel hunting knife.

LOOK KNIFE
Forged from flawless grey steel, this hunting knife boasts a fixed blade set into a handle of pale white bone. The majority of the blade itself is smooth and honed to a razor edge; the tip of it, however, hooks backward into a cruel barb. The knife's handle is polished smooth and curves slightly, allowing for a more comfortable grip.

You tilt your head curiously.

You think to yourself: Her Brother?

You have emoted: Gurashi's eyes narrow a bit.

You think to yourself: ....Activities?

Your mandibles twitch slightly as you voice a brief, curious chirr.

You stare blankly at a cruel hunting knife.

You have emoted: Gurashi suddenly lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, stepping forward with legs formerly locked on place with fear. He trembles, examining the knife as anxiety works its way out of his limbs.

You think to yourself: Do not feel so good.

You have emoted: Gurashi awkwardly rubs at his neck, then brushes at his shoulder as if still feeling the presence of the Enchantress.

You think to yourself: Is O-K.

Your eyes raise to the heavens as a look of hope flashes across your face.

(The Crux): You say, "E-ehm, where were hunting again?"
(The Crux): Xenthos (from the Astral Plane) says, "Mitrans."
You think to yourself: Is fine, is fine.
(The Crux): Ashira (from the Astral Plane) says, "Libra now."
(The Crux): Evette (from the Astral Plane) says, "Libra."
(The Crux): You say, "Libra, O-K."
(The Crux): Kyalrhin (from the Astral Plane) says, "I wonder what you've been up to, Gurashi."
(The Crux): You say, "....will be right up."
(The Shadow Kindred): "KYALRHIN."

***GO TO ASTRAL HUNT, WHERE HAVE SOME QUESTIONS* **

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "...Xenthos."

Xenthos tells you, "Aye?"

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Would be able to identify something if belonged to Lord Predator?"

Xenthos tells you, "Possibly."

Xenthos tells you, "What is it?"

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "A, ehm... dagger..."

Xenthos tells you, "Any more information about said dagger?"

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Mean, think meant Lord Predator."

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Lady Enchantress is coming. Have to give message to Lady of Roses for. And that knife is part of it."

*give him a dagger*

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "What do think...?"

Xenthos tells you, "I don't see the dagger."

Xenthos tells you, "Oh, a knife."

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Ah, sorry. Right. Hunting knife..."

Xenthos tells you, "It could be something of His, aye. It is not obviously so, but many of His weapons were rather plain. He far preferred function to form."

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "...O-K."