Spite Sprouts

The melodious voice of Cheliyi resonates in your mind, "**a quiet nudge, a clear beckoning and then
-tug- into existence** Here."

[[Rhalkyr is summoned]]

Rhalkyr grunts in irritated surprise, the nearly lambent discs of his feverishly
green eyes thin to slits. Immediately, he releases a cat of black ink from his tender attentions,
and straightens into a readied, combative stance.

Grassy hilltop.
Rippling notes of a tranquil harmony drift upon the air, emanating from a healing shrine of Isune
nearby. Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. A light cover of
clouds hides the sky in a sheet of white. Soft, blue-green alpine grass carpets the ground here, a
hardy variety well suited to the cooler temperatures found as the ground rises up towards the Teeth
to the east. Moss campion grows in profusion, its tiny leaves and pale pink blossoms adapted to suit
the rockier soil. A perpetual cool wind sweeps down from the mountains, threatening to sweep away
the more delicate plants. A tall, vibrantly healthy mulberry bush grows nearby. A giant mosquito
lies crushed. Humming happily to himself, a red furred furrikin lounges about here. Cheliyi is here.

Esei tells you, "** There is a gentle press against the aether, a brief wave of pale gold concern.
**."

Appearing in a readied, aggressive stance, Rhalkyr's hands are extended to either
side, fingers flexed into stiffened claws, eyes thinned to dangerous slits. Finding Cheliyi, they do
not, as before, flit away, but remain fixed upon Cheliyi.

Cheliyi watches silently within a surge of freezing mist, which converges upon you like a hungry
wave. The mists coil into tendrils that bind the hulking human with efficient precision, biting deep
into your skin like a thousand tiny knives. The mugwump smiles politely, though the expression does
not reach her glittering eyes. "You made my Dad cry," she murmurs, gaze igniting with a cold hatred
as a freezing sensation climbs up your limbs.

You tell Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk, "** A spike of crackling alarm,
which is ignited immediately into a red rage so intense that it borders on madness - a flare of
pain, swiftly suppressed and, bizarrely, threaded through with exultant triumph. **."

Muginn, the ghost-feathered crow trots in with head high, butting Cheliyi gently with his head.

Esei tells you, "** A flash of cracked black stone, glinting with lines of curiosity-silver... soft
silence. **."

Rhalkyr does not cry out in pain, the array of lacerating tendrils eliciting
instead a low, snarling sound, more befitting a beast than a human. Flexing his prodigious muscles,
the stripes that adorn his powerful frame undulate and writhe as the bronze flesh they adorn bulges
with effort. Cocking his head at an odd angle, he responds in a tone that is incongruously mild.
"No. Gurashi's tears, self-inflicted."

Softly, as if she did not hear him, Cheliyi says, "I told you I would do anything for them, yes?
Anything? Thank you, for letting me prove it."

Cheliyi curls her fingers in a gentle, sweeping motion, and the responding tendril's touch is
-anything- but, curling around your throat like a frost-bitten noose. Muginn watches the affair with
a predatory gleam in his lone eye. "Perhaps," she hums, "this is unkind. Perhaps, it is bitter."

Offering no resistance, Rhalkyr tilts his chin up even as the winding serpent of
mist coils about his neck, his eyes gazing down upon Cheliyi with something very much akin to
amusement.

Smiling again, her lips stretch taut as her wooden fangs glisten with saliva. The expression almost
hungry, Cheliyi's gaze trails along the different coils of mist cutting into your skin.

You think to yourself: The smug, entirely self-satisfied pleasure of a cat watching a mouse leap into its lair as, within the sprawling, untamed jungle of Rhalkyr's mind, an axolotl manifests - One with an oversized maw that drips saliva, hissing and snapping with fury as it dashes madly after the flickering tail of a tiger, which slips deeper into the dark, oppressive heart of the wilderness.

Warmly, Cheliyi says, "But, I would be a poor gardener if I let my seeds go to waste, yes. If there
is one thing I learned as an Exemplar of my Tah'vrai, it is to garden well. To plant well.
Perhaps... I should plant them with you."

Bizarrely, despite or perhaps even because of the increased pain that is brought to
bear upon him, Rhalkyr's eyes glitter with greater - ad now unmistakable - amusement. In a voice
made more ragged than ever, he grinds out, "Bitter. Seeds."

Esei tells you, "** Soft silence, then a gentle press, cold and glacier-blue. A flash of that pale
gold concern, slivers of grass briefly passing through the aether. **."

Cheliyi's grin splits unnaturally wide, reminiscent of the grotesque ravenwoods in the Forest of No
Mercy. "Indeed. They were not mine, at first. But, peoples have to adapt, yes."

Tilting her head at an unnatural angle, Cheliyi says, "Perhaps, I should eat you. Make you go to
sleep, very, very slowly. But... no. You would wake up, and all of my work would go to waste. Mister
Dad told me not to eat peoples, anymore."
-
Muginn, the ghost-feathered crow tilts his head in tandem with Cheliyi, his gaze eerie, piercing.
Famished.

The coil of mist tightens around Rhalkyr's neck, almost shredding his skin with the tension, an
effective chokehold.

You tell Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk, "** Silence, in turn, but this one
is alive with activity, as a flurry of soundless motion. There are several, persistent spikes of
silvery pain, and simmering anger, but a complete lack of fear. The flickering image of a mugwump's
maw, split wide into a saliva-slicked, predatory grin, and then a flash of agony. **."

A flurry of blackthorn petals arrives from the south, thorny vines sprouting within the floral cloud
and twining together to form the body of Esei, riding Dusan, the coruscant.
Shadows pour out from the south, heralding Dusan.

Esei, riding Dusan, the coruscant, draws the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree across the inside of
their wrist, causing a line of blood to well up. They then lifts the blade into the air, as shadows
spill out of the wet crimson tip, swarming around Esei, riding Dusan, the coruscant, and taking them
with them as they sink into the ground.
Trailing stars and smoke, Dusan trails off to the ether.

The tendons of Rhalkyr's neck stand starkly out, straining against the cruel,
crushing tendrils of mist as he hisses out a choked breath. A thick, wheezing sound throbs forth
form the man, a low and pulsating noise, as slow as the cruel, gradual sundering of dry treeflesh.
Mangled laughter, or as much as one can manage, when unable to breath, and under such duress.

Cheliyi smiles brightly, seemingly overjoyed by your laughter. "I'm glad you agree, yes."

Eyes wide and glittering with cold starlight, Cheliyi says, "You know, my dad always says that there
is a price for love. But, there is a price for knowledge, too."

You think to yourself: "Pain, of self, is cheap price, compared to price, you pay for this. Blind, little, thing. Snap, the poison meat."

Soft once more, Cheliyi says, "And this is part of it. Speak to my father again, hurt them again,
and I will do much more than burn your skin."

The disturbing, brutally maimed sound of Rhalkyr's mirth fades, and it is a long
moment before he draws sufficient, rasping, ragged breath to speak. Simply, he says, in an
unmistakably mocking tone - though the word is contorted such that it is difficult to discern,
"Soft."

Cheliyi's grin splits wide once more, creaking with some painful echo in the distant pines. "Mm.
Perhaps. But, it takes quite a bit of control to contain bloodlust, yes. Perhaps you should learn
more of Crow. You may be of Glomdoring, but you are no ally of mine. No family of mine. Take care,
when you swim."

You think to yourself: The shadows press closer as the axolotly crashes after the striped tail, and where they caress the foreign creature's form, they leave a thin, atramentous coating of black slicking its hide. "How. Very. Wyrden." The voice is slow, dripping with mockery and satisfaction.

The mugwump turns her back on you, Cheliyi's misted crow watching the human without pause. As she
exits with a merry hum, the corvid gives one, shrieking caw, and the mists dissipate as if never
there. All that remains are swaths of frosted skin, and a distinct chill to the air.

Strings suddenly cut, Rhalkyr collapses to the ground, though he manages to catch
himself in an ungainly, lopsided manners - only for his limbs to fail as they go out from under him,
eliciting a grunt of discomfort as he falls, mask resting upon the chilled loam. He remains thus for
a long moment, marshalling his strength, then climbs unsteadily to his feet. Gingerly, he inspects
the damage to his form as best he is able, flexing his fingers before him - though the thick digits
tremble, and the bronze flesh of his form is covered in blackened stripes that are born from
darkening, frostbitten skin. Despite the obvious damage to his body, and the tense situation that he
has just endured, his sole reaction is that low, strangled rasp of his laughter, which throbs and
pulses with commingled mirth and exultation.

You think to yourself: "Dutiful, daughter. Hands the Glomdoring, a knife, to gouge at, father's heart. Thinks herself, predator."

Giving Evette a nod of acknowledgement, Esei steps suddenly, quietly, closer to you.

The sharp sound of a twig snapping echoes behind you.

Evette tilts her head curiously at Esei.

Evette curtseys gracefully.

Gabe curtseys gracefully.

Stumbling some as he appears, Rhalkyr takes a moment to steady himself, leaning his
weight against the Master Ravenwood. The entirety of his form is covered in coiling marks of
darkening flesh, as if gripped by a cruel, icy serpent. Coughing roughly, he rolls his head from
side to side in slow arcs, eyes twinging closed as he winces in obvious pain. With an amused,
mangled bark of laughter, he waves a hand at Esei, stating, in a voice somehow even more ruined than
before, "Am fine."

A warm tingle runs through your body as Evette touches two fingers to your forehead, shifting a
brilliant aura to you.

Esei crosses their arms and raises an eyebrow at you.

Evette nods her head at herself.

A cloud of translucent figures trails after Evette as she leaves to the down, the incomprehensible
whispers finally fading.

Esei beckons you to them.

Voice containing an undercurrent of cracking glaciers, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the
Ascending Dusk says to you, "We will not go far. Just where there will be less foot traffic."

Rhalkyr tilts his head inquiringly at Esei, but falls into step behind Esei.

Between the branches of a fallen tree.
One or two light fluffy clouds drift lazily through the sky. A thick net of branches form a barely
stable platform to traverse between the northwestern banks of the dell and the fallen tree that
spans the length of the ditch. Sharp twigs move quickly to swing at anything that passes through,
scratching and clawing. Few leaves grow here, those that remain having become brown and shrivelled
long ago. Shadowy mists and blackthorn blossoms obscure a shrine of dark black crystal that stands
here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air.
Dusan, a coruscant wyvern, lurks in the shadows here. Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the
Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of blackthorn blossoms.
They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their right hand.
There are no obvious exits.

Voice containing an undercurrent of cracking glaciers, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the
Ascending Dusk says, "Better."

Esei deliberately sits down as well, placing their hands on their knees.

Rhalkyr collapses into a seated position, long, hugely thick legs stretched limply
out before him. Flicking a glance at Esei, he utters a questioning grunt.

You feel the presence of Esei next to you.

Voice containing an undercurrent of cracking glaciers, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the
Ascending Dusk asks, "...if you do not mind discussing it, what happened?"

In a voice of utter calm, albeit significantly more strained and tattered than
usual, Rhalkyr replies, "Bait, was taken. Seed, sprouting, as guided."

Esei tilts their face slightly down and away, body flickering with pale jade and gold.

Quietly, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "I see."

In dark, lyrical tones, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk asks, "Guided, you
say?"

The motion of Esei's tail snatches Rhalkyr's attention as surely as if magnetised,
though it flits up to assay Esei's altered form briefly, before sliding off once more. Rather than
elaborate, he simply grunts in affirmation.