Heartwood House Publishing

It was not a voice that Safrona expected to hear chiming from her own chattershard, a good collection of years having spanned since that particularly chipper sound had found her again. In fact, the slurring words found a Courier briefly taciturn, well-worn with the number of similar drunken ramblings and unintelligible requests in lieu of Brewfest.

Then, the jab at the name "Keruptis" brought her back to familiarity. Slivers of known memory danced like an impish flame, sizzling with sound by association. The glint of a decorative dagger tinged with blood. The sharp crack of a whip. A peal of racous laughter. A filthy joke cutting the susurrus of old rituals. "Rivina Heartwood." The name was released like a minor revelation, then followed by an uneasy chuckle. "It's been a minute."

Another long pause stretched before Safrona would speak again. Rivina coined her name with a curious amount of confidence...inebriated or not. Did the Jester truly know who she spoke to? Enough perhaps to send her a very special package. She angled her words without accusation, wondering if Heartwood would take responsibility. The Jester of memory liked to celebrate her victories.

"I'm muddling through life as usual. Staying far away from the Brewfest grounds. But life has been....different for me since you last sent me a gift. But I think you'd somehow appreciate my latest acquisition. The Harbinger's cult got amusingly creative with their recruiting methods, though I doubt some would even know what to do with carbonated drink. Some don't have mouths. Digestive systems, even."

There was another pause as she belched again, though thankfully this time she remembered to turn her head and not burp directly into the chatterstone.

I mean…

Writing things with her is no chore…it’s a labour of love.  <3

While Katrianna has never been ashamed of her body, as she has given herself completely to Rivina, she would never go to such a thing without her.

She would craft her outfit from rose vines, with roses covering her intimate parts, held together with silver strands. The roses would be black of course, a mark of her House. Additionally, she would use blood for makeup, rather than her normal cosmetics, accented by the soot from a ritual black candle, creating an overall haunting look, or so she would hope.

As for added guests, the most likely of which would be Lilith, her handmaiden, and nanny to her worgen children.

@gwenya

Katrianna quietly held Rivina as the lanky redhead wept. The body of a massive demon lay dead on Sentinel Hill, evaporating back into the Nether, and the two of them had holstered their weapons and strolled down the hill. Haathun, Rivina’s Felguard, hadn’t noticed and was busily posing and crowing in triumph before Rivina had thrown herself into Katrianna’s arms.

Rivina hadn’t expected the attack to tear into her heart like that. Westfall had been the place that was too small, the place where the happy girl became the weird brainy girl, the place that chased her out when her powers manifested and finally the place her parents were killed by the Defias.

Rivina had been happy enough to leave Westfall behind, returning only to see her parents when she had learned power enough to not fear pitchforks. The scorched place where the farm once had been had sent her into a vengeful fury that had stopped onto when dozens of Defias lay dead at her feet.

Rivina had thought she had made peace with all of that, happy to only remember the good times. However, there seemed something obscene about demonic citadels growing out of what had been farm houses and Rivina felt her heart break anew.

When the raiding party had taken down the Commander of the force attacking Westfall, Rivina felt a surge of relief, disgust and a hurt that she could not yet name.

When her tears had dried she looked up at her lover and smiled. “C’mon, I’ll tell you when we get home.”

She can sense her desperate need for her spirit bond to remain not only intact but strengthened by Rivina’s own soul. The binding had grown tenuous since the invasion began. A call to her very soul trying to urge her into the field stayed by that spirit bond with the lanky warlock, their souls entwined, fused together by their love for one another. Still the call to her was strong. If not for this wonderful warlock in her life, she might well succumb to the calling.

She could never give in to such dark and dire forces as long as this woman in her arms remained in her hart. To see this vibrant woman’s spirit break so threw the Dark Lady into a protective stance of her as she nods to Tharos, the Greater Shade hoisting it’s massive Black Blade up and resting it with one hand on it’s shoulder. The cloaked and inky blackness nodded it’s cowled head and disappeared around the back of the watchtower returning at the head of the women’s black coach, their horses in tow.

As they mounted the two large creatures, Katrianna offers Lilith a courteous nod then turns to look at Rivina with a soft smile, leaning over to feather a soft kiss to her lips.

“Yes, let us return home.” The Dark Lady’s words are as a command to the large and dark clad figure at the head of the couch, spurring the team of horse into action driving toward the bridge leading into Duskwood, the two women’s curious if not fearsome steeds taking up the rear guard ensuring the young woman returns home safely.

@rivina

“I wasn’t expecting that.” She said somberly, “When I was 18, I ran away from home, just ahead of a mob ready to lynch me. I came back much later to find my parents dead and our farm burned to the ground. I thought I was done with Westfall, but seeing one of those Legion towers on what used to be my parents’ land was too much.

Katrianna closes the wine cabinet quietly, easing herself back away from it slightly before turning about, setting the bottle on the table with great care, equal parts protecting the finish of both wood and wine. Reaching for the silver plated corkscrew, the Dark Lady makes quick work of the bottle’s seal, the wine’s pungent aroma quickly striking the woman, drawing out a moment of respite from recent events to smooth over her thoughts.

Slowly and carefully, Katrianna pours the wine to half fill each goblet, then moves to take up her seat once more. Raising her glass in a toast to Rivina, she offers the woman an impish smile as her voice comes in quite the mischievous intonations.

“I’d like that, thank you. My father didn’t take it well when I became a warlock, but he still deserves better than what happened and my mother definitely deserves better.”

I cried Last Night. You held me in your arms, not saying a word. I said I was ugly Last Night. You held me tighter and rocked me in your arms. I said I didn’t belong Last Night. You kissed my cheek and whispered “shhh”. I said I don’t deserve to be loved Last Night. You cradled me in your lap and let my crying turn to quiet sobs. I fell asleep with a broken spirit Last Night. I awoke with you still holding me tight. Love doesn’t always mean smiles, happiness, and sex. Sometimes, Love is letting her fall apart and just showing her that she can bare her pained heart and soul to you without challenge, without correction, without trying to convince her she shouldn’t feel the way she does. Last Night, mine was the soul in agony. Last Night, yours was the soul that healed me by simply being there.

–Katrianna

You can be dirty. 

It will be fun.