#misericordel

"marni!!!!!!!!"

veyle shouts almost at the top of her lungs, running and jumping into her embrace."i'm so happy to see you!!" she sobs and— oops. people are staring now.

She did think about leaving when the lights went out, tucking her tail between her legs and escaping before the nerves of being back in such a dim environment can claim her. After all, what is there to gain from being here? She danced a little, she ate food, she begrudgingly said hi to people. It's not like she really needs to stay for the whole night. As frustrating as it is, the chances of anyone noticing or caring that she'd turned tail were pretty low. If she leaves now, she could—

A singular voice disrupts her train of thought, followed by the warmth of a human body crashing into her.

"Lady Veyle?!"

Marni, who is still in the single digits in terms of hugs experienced, has no clue what to do with her hands in this moment. Even putting aside her status, when she thinks about what she'd done to her brother(?) on the other side of the mirror, a pang of guilt freezes her hands in the air.

Here's Veyle happy to see her again, meanwhile she'd messed up again while she wasn't looking.

lacking power was something the dusk god had never truly experienced until his arrival in the city of spirale. while he'd never admit it, such a concept was rather terrifying. the last time he'd been so acutely aware of a corporeal body was before his world seemed to fall apart. before lucilius showed his true colors ⎛ or maybe before he was willing to really look at the other astral with eyes unclouded. maybe he did have a flaw from the start- his devotion and desire to be just as his predecessor was. a pair with his intended other half. lucilius was supposed to be his dawn. ⎠- it had been in the otherworld where he had been forced to drag his injured body back to the astral researcher and demand a primal beast's core.

perfect in spirit, but a corporeal form was always vulnerable in some way.

now, he quietly wished that shalem was here. that she would guide him as she once had when he was still adjusting to existence around him. he'd been stripped of his grand powers only to be left with a weak healing factor.

he'd made his way to a secluded area to give himself time to think.

after a while, someone else joined him. a small girl with long hair. a timid looking thing- but that didn't mean that she was harmless. appearances could often be deceiving. ❝ ... have you also come here to think? ❞

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 — accepting

Skewering contours, tall ceilings and macabre architecture dimly lit from within, a smile nowhere; if not for its stained glass, Destinea Cathedral would be the closest to home the remnants of long deceased Gradlon would ever come. Similitude only embellished by the dagger held to his throat by one who shared, even if only hypothetically, his own blood.

Rafal's eyes slid downwards to Veyle, unamused. To the Fell Heir, the threat of this sibling was simply another facet to immersion, a familiar fixture of the kingdom that would never again come to life. Tension of such precarious, paper-thin disposition between brothers and sisters, sisters and brothers, that a single careless finger nail might run it through beyond repair.

And faced again with the struggle of life and death and domination among their kind, it was not fear that Rafal felt or was returned to. Younger, shorter, and thoroughly audacious; Veyle's crimes to the only and rightful successor to Father's legacy. His thin lips twitched furiously around silent words.

You little shit.

"I suppose you mean to intimidate me. Would you be satisfied with a lie? That I am positively quivering right now, on the verge of a desperate plea?" His steady glare spelled that he was no such thing. Instead his step paved forward, testing, and more than that: knowing. "Or perhaps, little Veyle, the truth would assist you more."

Rafal laughed unkindly.

her heart beats— aches at the thought of marni dying by her father's hands. a fragment of defect so deeply imbedded into her that it may not be plucked out.

chaste kisses

It is a privilege and honor of the highest degree to serve Lord Sombron’s daughter. Like an expensive collar placed around her neck, it shows everyone just how favored she is. See, look, she’s one of the chosen ones. She’s special. She’s the favorite.

Marni has her family and Lord Sombron’s favor. If not for the burden of knowledge, she would want for nothing else.

She knows now, though. That even if Lady Veyle squints her rubied eyes at her and purrs, she’s doing little more than going through the motions. She presses her lips to Marni’s, but the action lacks warmth. It’s little more than a means to an end, half reward and half tightening the chain of an attack dog predisposed to acting out. No matter how favored it is, there’s no point in wasting affection on a hound only trained to be as vicious as possible unless you need to make sure it won’t bite you instead.

Well, it’s not like Marni knows what it feels like to be kissed affectionately to begin with.

The perfect little hound rolls over and exposes her stomach even to the snake flaring her hood. Even she has enough discretion to know when to not push her luck. Only well-trained in the best of circumstances, she keeps her mouth tightly shut even when she feels a fanged smile against her lips.

“…Yeah, got it, Lady Veyle,” she says, hands tucked behind her back.

She doesn’t always bother with her title, disrespectfully dropping it as she pleases, but she dutifully says it now. They are not friends, but rather liege lady and knight. Master and dog. Dragon and human. God and mortal. Victim and perpetrator. Or was it perpetrator and victim?

Lonely kid and lonely kid.

“I’ll stay with you,” Marni promises, guilt constricting her neck and making it hard to swallow. “I am one of your knights, after all, Lady Veyle.”

still, she approaches him a bit apprehensively. she’d begun to understand him a little better ever since their patrol mission in the winters, but there still felt a lack of camaraderie between them somehow. they are not yet friends, and she’s sure he doesn't consider her a sibling yet either. still, roads to friendship were naturally bumpy. she would not give up that desire just yet, so she steels herself for a lackluster response. “rafal. you’re back from the battlefield.” she comments, voice the slightest bit on the quiet end.  “did you have the  healers look at your wounds yet…?”

Eagle. Lion. Deer. These several designations could not have been more useless to Rafal, one who regarded each victory and defeat on the field to be personal. Had he won, it would have been on his own power. And even if he'd lost - which he did - insisted his sole responsibility just the same. Healers? That word held no value, either; plurality owed itself to little application when Poe alone had done the lion's share of work, though he was neither pedantic enough nor so eager as to correct it.

"I have. The worst of my injuries have passed, though I have seen no shortage of better days," he responded, rigidly, and by no willing intention. The process of healing for a battered nose projected a certain nasal quality when speaking. Nevertheless, dignity remained intact, and when coolly shuttered eyes next peeled to regard her properly, they would see a Fell Child relatively healed albeit marked by incriminating signs of exertion.

An even greater fact to be discerned above them all.

"You." Carmine focused on Veyle, interested. Neither mocking nor cruel but incisive; those who entered into the medical tents belonged to two identical outcomes; excess time on their hands and total loss. Anyone truly victorious would have no moments to spare. "If you are here, then victory was not your outcome. Who was it that reduced you to defeat? Should you be inclined, you may say so with transparency."

Attention accommodating, expression neutral, and tone level - a mild showing of Rafal by all notes of comparison. His next words extended a gnarled overture, friendliness, not that many were capable to deduce it as such, or that this attempt at 'friendliness' had adopted the right form to begin with:

"No."

Tight lipped, there could be no straighter line than the firm set of a mouth yielded by Rafal. A resounding rejection laid itself at the younger dragon's feet as he looked down at her- a familiar face so much as it occupied the same living space during his time at the Somniel. A deceased sister, too; though never met personally, marked altogether by many similarities to the Veyle of his world so far as the living Mauvier- the Hound- had told. Perhaps one too many.

He ignored the bubbling vessel of water, more interested at the chance to speak to one who has evaded him like a ship in the night. To satisfy the reasonable curiosity toward a common ground that hung between them, dangled over them in the whispering gossips and furtive glances of others. "You are a daughter of Sombron just like I am his son. Both fallen to a spell and his service to the great detriment of others. How does one do it, gamboling about with such a. . .carefree smile—should your attitude not reflect a life spent in atonement?"

It was a rhetorical statement, drawn out by the fell heir's difficulty in comprehending their vastly differing approaches to the high ceiling of their sins. Was it anger and judgment that compelled him? Awe? Perhaps, even. . .envy? Shaking his head, he snatched her other hand with a tight clench- two vines springing forth with flowers.

"There. Your ulterior motive for this encounter is abolished."

●●●●● | ATTRACTION AESTHETIC ●●●●● | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 ♡ 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

●○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●●○ | LOYALTY ●●●●○ | TRUST

"A true sibling of the Divine Dragon. Their relationship is under no doubt."

"As with the Divine One, I would be hard pressed to find a dragon more painfully naive. Even so, there is much we bear in common. It is to my understanding that Veyle strives toward her own betterment and feels shame for her past. In that way, I would greatly sympathize. Unlike myself, I believe goodness is within her nature—she will reach her desired redemption within this lifetime.