・ ᵇʸ ˢʰᵉᵉʳ ᵃᵗʳᵒᶜⁱᵗʸ

Her attire, as if woven from the sombre shadows that laid claim to these obsidian foundations, melded her with the darkness enveloping them. However, her eyes were ablaze with an inner fire, now entirely and singularly focused on the one before her — Lucaris Castille Vanstrada. The guards snapped to attention as their princess-commander emerged from the shadows, and she returned the gesture without a second thought. It was a rehearsed movement honed over nearly a century of training and battles.

Oh, yes - she remembered this one. His father was once the Captain of the Guard and their paths crossed on a few occasions when it was necessary. The recollection of their initial meeting was a faded image in her memory; during which he was hastily dismissed as weak or talentless. However, the man standing before her in chains and binds, defied those initial expectations. The secret to his newfound strength lay in dark, sinister means. Some might question whether the power belonged to Lucaris or the entity that granted him such magic. But Zyrah recognised power for what it truly was and she was unconcerned by its roots if it could be wielded. Lucaris had successfully bonded with an otherworldly entity and harnessed magic through that connection, revealing an inner strength that surprised the princess. Although rarely wrong in her judgments, Zyrah had clearly misjudged Lucaris, dismissing him too easily as weak and forgettable. But his hunger for power and acceptance proved more potent than his loyalty to kin. In Nansir, power equated to survival as its central tenet, yet loyalty and discipline were two additional pillars of training that Zyrah could not abandon nor forgive Lucaris for. That marked the sharp line between their differences in gaining power.

However, Zyrah couldn't help but be intrigued by the impending contest between Lucaris and his enigmatic patron. The sharing of power seldom endured with equilibrium or peace for extended periods. Power craved a master; it hungered for dominance. Her own power - midnight fire, like the heart of a burning black star - opened a sleepy eye as she approached the warlock. Intriguing, indeed.

older,  stronger,  more  beautiful.  his  siblings.  his  friends.  zyrah.  he's  never  become  accustomed  to  it,  but  he  has  grown  familiar.  shadows  licked  at  his  face,  darkening  already  dark  eyes  as  they  roved  over  her.  

"  and  we  can't  allow  that,  can  we,  princess?  "  with  his  loosened  bonds,  he  struggled  to  his  feet,  shadows  seeming  to  stretch  like  the  wings  of  a  swallow  on  the  wind.  "  you've  not  grown  at  all.  you're still—  "  a  grunt  as  he  found  purchase  in  his  wrist,  a  wet  crack  muffled  by  his  sleeve.  "  —underestimating  me.  "

one  hand  was  free,  and  he  wiggled  his  fingers.  lucaris  stalked  to  the  table  and  sat,  allowing  the  other  cuff  to  jingle  against  the  tabletop.  "  you  forget  i'm  getting  something  out  of  all  this.  i'm  not  going  to  do  anything,  not  if  it  costs  my  freedom.  "  his  eyes  fell,  remembering  the  things  he  did  to  lose  it  in  the  first  place.  

sweat  nearly  boiled  off  his  skin,  and  his  eyes  raised  in  reverence,  a  silent  prayer  to  casir  to  save  him  from  any  strange  whim.  the  devil  never  listens.  perhaps  he  should  be  casting  his  eyes  below — still,  it  calmed  his  mind. 

at  least  when  he  was  sentenced,  he  knew  the  arbitrator.  the  familiar  look  of  pity  from  master  druenin  almost  made  him  feel  like  he  was  still  just  alya  vanstrada's  bastard  and  not  a  criminal  soaked  in  blood.  

patricide  was  a  dangerous  claim  in  his  town.  where  your  father,  the  one  who's  magic  runs  through  you,  is  sacred.  his  siblings  never  even  flinched  against  him  out  of  respect.  but  luc  ran  a  blade  across  his  throat.  he  would  not  fear  this.

the  air  in  the  room  seemed  to  thicken  as  luc  continued  his  banter,  a  thin  veil  between  the  precariousness  of  his  situation  and  the  grim  amusement  in  his  voice.  his  eyes  flickered  along  with  the  candlelight,  a  spark  of  rebellion  that  refused  to  be  extinguished.

his  lips  parted  as  she  approached,  nearly  tasting  the  bittersweet  until  she  pulled  away.  his  shadows,  useless  with  his  hands  bound,  licked  closer  to  the  goblet  in  her  hand.  luc  cleared  his  throat.  "  i  call  them  the  twins.  they're  not,  i  don't  believe.  but  they  share  similarities,  don't  you  think?  both  are  rubbish  at  remembering  to  feed  you,  for  one.  "

luc  used  any  slack  he  had  to  nudge  the  guard  to  his  right,  a  wicked  chuckle  echoing  against  stone  walls.  dancing  upon  the  precipice  of  a  dagger.  "  they're  also  not  used  to  me  being  able  to  speak,  i  think  they're  afraid  i'll  turn  them  to  frogs.  " 

Somewhere between their introduction and the journey planning, she had settled her mask over her place once more, altogether too stressed by the company of beautiful and intimidating strangers and by the journey before them to precisely control her expression as she is used to. She needs a couple of days to adjust to the loudness, to the presence of those around them, she thinks, before she can pretend to be settled. For now, the mask is a comfort she falls upon as she approaches the rumored warlock.

What a curious man. What a tragic fate.

Graciela has heard enough rumors, has heard his name, and she knows. She knows the fate of a magicless child in Nansir, she knows their parents – Lucaris Castille Vanstrada's and hers – would not hesitate to abandon them to Vierlun, would not waste a thought on their fate after they had done so. Once, she had feared it would be her fate, so she cannot deny the innate understanding that she has for his actions.

And yet– She is not one to sign a contract she has not read, not one to have faith on another – be it a devil or a man – for she is aware of their fickleness. His choice is not her own, and yet she cannot help it.

The curiosity.

What does his deal entail? What did he get in exchange? How learned is he in magic when he has never had a formal education in the subject?

She wants to know, so she approaches the man, steps measured as she draws unto herself and dredges the mask she has built to protect herself from the world.

"I think they are smart enough to know that," Graciela comments, a quick glance to the guards garnering their perusal, and she keeps their gaze for a moment, eyebrow high, until she can see them shift before her eyes fall back on him. "I doubt they will keep you on the bindings for much longer, but we can ask Her Highness Teneldris to hurry the procedure if you are uncomfortable. It would be best if you are well rested before we depart, after all."

he  tried  very  hard  to  imagine  the  girl  as  something  more  than  fly  buzzing  around  carrion,  but  as  the  carrion,  it  proved  difficult.  his  time  as  whatever  he  was  now  was  so  short  before  he  was  captured,  but  he  knows  that  he  reached  some  sort  of  peak.  he  was  better  than  this.  ah,  but  the  carrion  cannot  ask  anything  more  from  the  fly  ...  except  a  slow  death  worthy  of  its  deeds.  

as  useless  to  him  as  she  was,  it  was  nice  to  speak  to  someone  else.  and  in  truth  a  benefit  of  the  party  was  that  they  were  all,  in  some  way,  different.  sure,  some  of  the  eyes  he'd  seen  since  he  arrived  have  been  filled  with  confusion,  or  even  disgust.  but  none  had  been  the  wet,  dark  look  of  terror.  the  same  look  that  brought  him  satisfaction,  and  remorse,  on  the  day  he  killed  his  father.  they'd  seen  things  just  as  bad  as  him,  maybe  even  worse,  and  he  took  a  bit  of  comfort  in  that.  

"  oh,  i  assure  you  i  am  well-practiced  at  sleeping  in  chains.  perhaps  i  seem  impolite,  they  have  let  me  open  my  mouth  after  all,  so  do  excuse  me.  "  lucaris  regarded  her,  sizing  her  up  like  a  slaughterhouse  calf,  moon-eyed  and  doomed.  "  what's  your  name,  artificer?  i  didn't  quite  catch  it  earlier.  "

Wounds of the Earth

DRAGON AGE: AWAKENING — ♡ dev. bioware