Return from the dead [Venn]

[Larien Gil'dae]

Second brightening of the last cycle of Melora, Spring, Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Era XIV Post Fractum, the Second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne.

From brightening to darkening, the candlemarks passed. Slowly. Quickly. As if in a dream, Larien moved through the cycles, through the months. All hope trickled from her, like the grains of sand moving through an hourglass, ticking away the moments. Her moments were no more. Who was Larien Gil'dae anyway? What was time? With each breath Larien took, she willed herself closer to death, that sweet release from the misery of her current existence. But the gods were not merciful. They sent her neither a savior nor an easy escape. She was trapped, a captive. A nobody. A shadow, flitting through the countryside in the company of vagrants - destined to walk at the shoulder of the leader's horse for all time... or to ride in the occasional cart they managed to apprehend.

They had come upon her in the dark all those months ago as she had journeyed from Prime, fresh from the arms of her fiance, towards her family in Silrosia. No one had been around to hear her screams.

Did anyone even remember her name?

Some brightenings, awakening from a stiff and troubled sleep, she could not even recall her own name. But there was one name that stood out like a beacon within her mind. The last thread of her former life that she clung to as desperately as a madwoman to her last shred of sanity. Venn... my love, Venn. Curled upon the ground during the lonely and sometimes cold nights, Larien would allow herself to slip away into the recesses of her dreamworld. A world where she and her beloved fiance were back together again, reunited for once and for all. In her sleep, she would torment herself with fantasies of him coming to her aid, appearing from the darkness with his sword raised to rescue her from the ever constant nightmare that was her present.

But he never came. No one did. For all they knew, she was dead. Venn. Motito. Alicia. Tyav. Steve. Tigerlily. All those she had known and loved... for them, she was nothing more than a memory. A memory of a girl that was no longer. When was the last time she had laughed? Smiled? Cried even? Her tears had long since dried. She no longer could muster the strength to pity herself. They had taken everything from her on that night.

So many failed attempts at escape. So many jeering laughs. So many questions, pondered only with an indifferent curiosity. Why had they not tried to ransom her off? Surely the state of her clothing when they had come upon her had marked her for the nobility she was? Why had they not sold her? Abandoned her? Slit her throat?... Used her? It made no sense. But then again, nothing made sense anymore. Through the long cycles, the vagrants kept her on. And not one touched her... at least not more than once. Their leader - a man marked with a tattoo on his cheek - made sure of that.

Deep down, Larien knew it had something to do with her eyes. Those strange eyes of hers, inherited from her father. The man she had never met. She remembered clearly the darkening of her capture, the smell of her own fear, choking her. Rendering her helpless. She remembered the look in the eyes of the band's leader as he had tilted her chin upwards and looked down into her face. She had seen the laughter die on his lips, the flash that had passed across his dark features. He had seen something there that had stayed his hand.

He called her Emerald... when he called her anything at all. And she was his little trinket, handy for small things such as settling the horses and seeing to the evening meal.

She hated them all. She hated the way they watched her. She hated the way that had taunted her - at first. After the first few months the fire had smoldered within her, dying to a single sparking ember. The fight had leaked from her slender limbs, absorbing into the oppressive atmosphere. What did she have left to fight for? A dream. A dream of a pair of midnight eyes and a handful of silver hair.

So far gone was she into herself that Larien didn't even realize when their travels finally brought them closer to her home - her true home, the place of her birth. The beautiful and mystical Natura. The place she had met her one love. The place she had never thought she would see again. The place she probably wouldn't ever see again. Even if she had known where they were, she was never allowed beyond the encampment. And they never stayed in one place for too long. The men only needed a few brightenings to comb the countryside, stealing from farmhouses, terrorizing the poor people just trying to make a living off the land. They were monsters. Hardly human, in Larien's eyes.

It was on that particular darkening that the young elven woman was lying curled within one of the tents pitched around the campfire, resignedly awaiting the return of the vagrants. She could have heard them coming from a mile off, talking and jesting roughly, their feet shuffling against the hard earth, their laughter piercing the night air. Wrapping her arms tighter about her lithe form, Larien curled in upon herself, drawing her knees up to her chest. If she could, she would have disappeared into the very ground. But alas.

"Emerald."

The sound of the tent flap being pulled away was nothing more than a soft shush... though it exploded within Larien's ears, drawing her back to reality with a harsh slap. Go away, she wanted to moan out. Yet she stayed her tongue. Such freedom in speech was no longer allowed to her. Lifting her head slightly, the maiden peered towards the tattooed man through the curtain of her auburn hair, her eerily green eyes flashing in the darkness. The smile upon his lips caused her heart to pause in its beating. It was a smile she had never seen before. It was a smile she did not like.

She did not like it at all. Carmelya save me.

[Venn Drega]

“Bandits. Commander,” Faer'nel, a slender elvish ranger said. “Harassing the farms in the basin just south of here. Apparently they had been operating for a while but never close enough for it to be reported here until now.”

“Where is the Goldfin Farmhold?” the Naturan Commander inquired, looking over the map of Centripax that lay on the large table in the library.

“Here, Venn. Less than a quarter brightening’s ride,” answered Hollis, a dwarf paladin, tapping his finger on the map.

“Alright, the Silver Wolves will send scouts into the region while a small company of Temple forces will move towards the Farmhold with a team of trackers. As soon as we have picked up the trail of these bandits, the Rangers will track and locate the bandits. We need to know their numbers and effectiveness. If they are encamped we will assess and plan a attack. If they are in transit we may lay an ambush.” The silver haired half-Tėleris looked up at his captains. “Understood?”

Each captain knew their role and within the candle mark, ten teams of scouts had been dispatched as fifteen paladins, ten rangers, five monks and five healers mustered to begin their journey to the southern farmlands. A larger contingent would have been safer, but would have also taken much longer to organize by which time the brigands would have disappeared.

The bandits had made the mistake of straying to close to Natura in their ruthless raids and a survivor had escaped to tell a tale. Now the small but effective forces of the Forest City were mobilized to deal with these interlopers.

It was not difficult to determine the direction the bandits had taken from the Goldfin Farmhold. Unfortunately, the trail was already ten candle marks old. It was determined that a force of roughly twenty had raided the farm, more than enough to overwhelm the estate and carry off any loot. Several farm hands had been killed in the action while the rest had been locked in the barn. The brigands took only what they could carry which increased their mobility. The Naturans would have to pursue quickly and simply hope that one of the scouting teams had picked up raiders.

After riding south well into the darkening, a scouting party sent word that they had located an encampment of approximately fifty men north of the Midlands of Enamoria, just before the border with Centripax. If they rode throughout the darknening, they could possibly reach the location before dawn. The Naturans decided to close the distance in the night and reassess when they neared the encampment whether or not they were in any condition to engage.

It was a long tiring night ride but the groups was sustained by spells of refreshment and the determination to bring the bandits to justice. The company halted as they neared the camp. There was still a candle mark before dawn. They had ridden close to the Dolwoods, but there was little cover to be had without entering into that haunted forest which they were loathe to do. The brightening however, would also reveal their position as there was little cover to be had for even a small company on the expansive fields where the Great Centripax Basin and the Midlands met.

And so the decision was made. Tired as they were and saddle sore, they would make their assault upon the dusk of dawn. The half a dozen elfin archers could pick off the sentries in the dark while the paladins and monks crept up on the camp. They would attempt to render as many of the bandits incapacitated as possible before the alarm was sounded in order to even out the numbers and avoid bloodshed. If and when the alarm was raised, the Naturans would sweep the camp.

Venn crept up quietly when the two sentries watching the north were quietly dispatched. They could hardly be called sentries, half-heartedly napping along the perimeter. It became evident that this was an undisciplined rabble. It was decided that the lookouts could be physically subdued while the archers provided emergency cover.

Venn nodded to Bollard as the dwarf put away the sap he used to render the guard unconscious and took up his mace again. The twin suns were only beginning to shed their glow on the horizon. Venn quickly entered a nearby tent to administer a dose of the temporary paralyzing poison provided by the rangers. The three men within succumbed easily enough before he emerged.

Then things went awry. One of the brigands on the opposite side of the camp, who had risen in the night stumbled out of his tent and clumsily knocked over a brazier of embers. The embers spilled and lit up the side of a tent which burst into flames. Then pandemonium ensued. At first the bandits were confused and in disarray, easily dealt with , but it did not take long for the to recognize the strangers among them at which point they began to put up a fight. More tents caught fire.

Venn rushed forth, his blade in hand, showing mercy to those who yielded but prepared to cut down any opposition. Throughout the camp the battle cry was heard, “Natura Aeternum!” Chaos and blood ensued.

[Larien Gil'dae]

Natura Aeternum!

Time seemed to come to a stand still as both Larien and the tattooed man paused - he in his slow approach towards her, she in her feeble retreat. Lowering her pale arm that had been thrown up protectively before her face, the young woman glanced fearfully towards the tent opening... and gasped at what the fluttering of the flap revealed. Crimson flames licked the skies, slowly devouring the campsite as dark bodies, silhouetted against the unfolding dawn, flickered against the horizon. The sound of steel clashing against steel was unmistakable. Larien could almost taste the sharpness of the blades as they came together with ringing triumph before shushing apart, accompanied by the cries of those that wielded them. What was happening? Was it a raid by a rival band? Glancing back towards the tattooed man, Larien watched as he hesitated on the verge of the chaotic scene, unsure at the threshold of what could possibly be his death. She saw the uncertainty in his eyes. How he weighed his chances. But pride finally won out and he rushed to join in the fray, drawing a short sword from his side with a metallic grind. Larien was alone once more.

Natura Aeternum!

Crouched upon her knees, her long auburn tresses thrown over her pale features like a curtain, Larien froze. Natura? Disbelief flooded her body, slowly liquifying her skeletal structure until it was all she could do to keep from collapsing to the hard earth. Natura. Her breath became ragged, forced, as the weight of that realization fell upon her shoulders and soaked down into her soul. She was home. As the battle outside raged on, Larien remained a statue within the tent, oblivious to the approaching fire. The ground beneath her suddenly didn't feel so hard. The short blades of grass pricking her skin suddenly didn't feel as sharp.

The future suddenly didn't look so bleak.

Infused with a strength she had not felt within herself for many months, Larien rose slowly from her crouch, cautious on her unsteady feet. She was truly a sight - her forest green dress stained completely brown from her knees downwards, with rips and tears along the sleeves and waistline; her long locks, once wispy and silken, hung like sheets of autumn on either side of her drawn face, made even lovelier (in a rather eerie way) by the exaggeration of her already angular features. The only thing that remained the same, unchanged through the expanse of time, was her eyes. Those intense flecks of green that would put emeralds to shame. And yet, even in the sameness, they were different. There was a weight to them that had not been there before, a depth that seemed to know no end. And in that moment, a fire that had been missing for far too long.

Inspired to action, Larien hurried from the tent without another thought... and immediately ran into a rather imposing obstacle. Two armed men dueling before her. With a cry of surprise, the young woman pitched herself to the ground, rolling from the fray and off into the lingering shadows cast orange by the advancing fire. The cries of the horses, hidden off in the nearby trees, sounded out over the noise and Larien clung to the sound. She could escape. Her faithful equine companion, Antiri, who was captured along with her elven mistress lingered somewhere amongst those trees. If only she could find her, she could hopefully make it to Natura before anyone noticed her absence. And then... and then she could find...

Venn.

It was too much for the maiden to process and for what seemed like an eternity stretched into a few moments, Larien found that she could not move. She could not think. She could not breathe. And then time started up once again and she was once more inspired to action. She had to hurry. Oblivious to who was winning in the mini-war waging around her, the young woman flitted through the camp, floating as lightly as any ethereal being. In the near distance, she spotted her prize, her goal - the safety of the leafy boughs. So close. And yet, so far as one of the tents spilled over into her path, spewing fire and sparks before her. With a scream of terror, Larien leapt backwards and into the grasp of the one person she had hoped to never see again - the tattooed vagrant.

Trapped within his stone embrace, the young woman tried to twist out of the hold to no avail. It was no use. No. NO! She refused to return to that. She refused to be a captive any longer. A cry of utter hatred and frustration burst forth from her lips as she slammed her weight backwards into his body, the cry of "Natura Aeternum!" around her lending her strength and courage. But still, it was not enough...

[Venn Drega]

Venn moved through the smoke and fire although it was difficult to tell whether they were making progress or not. It seemed as if the brigands were loathe to surrender, knowing that what awaited them was a gallows in Primus Gaudeo under the Justicar's ruling. And so they fought for their lives. Those that the monks and paladins could subdue without killing, they did, but there were those who would not go down easily.

There were a few skirmishes Venn engaged in but superior training allowed him to prevail. There was no particular line of engagement but many different confrontations scattered throughout the camp.

"Commander, there's a situation towards the eastern end of the camp," Faer'nel breathed as he approached the paladin, stopping only to loose an arrow into a charging man. "It looks like they are escaping with a hostage."

"A hostage? One of ours?" the commander demanded briskly.

"No, it looks like a slave they had taken on, a civilian. They are starting to move out of the camp, toward the Dolwoods.," the elven ranger replied.

"Show me," the Silver Star replied.

The two made their way quickly toward the edge of camp. A rather large man and four other ruffians were making their way out of the camp for the woods. The large man with a tattoo on his face held a dishevelled woman.

"We believe the woman may be from Natura, I heard her echo our war cry. Otherwise they would have escaped us," Faer'nel reported.

"Five of them and two of us. There must be a way to even the odds," Venn said, casting about for his allies. Unfortunately, the battle made moved toward the south and west and any nearby were engaged in combat or out of earshot. "There are other means..."

The bandits were feeling a little more relieved as they dragged Larien toward the woods. The suns were only starting to shed light on the horizon, generating an orange glow. The shadows in the woods were still dark enough to hide them once they entered. They hesitated only for a moment for here were tales about these trees, how they were enchanted and dangerous. They shrugged off their misgivings, however, given their circumstances and proceeded.

Enchanted and dangerous indeed. The last sound that two of them heard was the flight of an arrow as it pierced them both. Out of the shadows a blade incapacitated a third while a gauntleted fist dispatched the fourth, leaving only the one and Larien.

"I'll kill her! I swear!" the tattooed man threatened, holding a long blade to Larien's chest

"Let her go and you might live," came a low voice from the darkness causing the bandit leader to peer into the shadows in futility. He was becoming more agitated.

"No!" The words were barely out of the tattooed man's mouth when an arrow struck him in the arm, causing him to drop the weapon. Suddenly a gauntlet materialised and struck the man, stunning him and causing him to release Larien as he stumbled backwards into an unconscious heap.

Venn pulled back his hood from his enchanted camouflaging cloak and bent down to examine the man. An elf appeared next to Larien as he too pulled back a similar cloak that rendered him invisible. It was still dark in the woods, but dawn had finally arrived and the first light of the twins sun crept into the Dolwoods, banishing the darkness. The camp had become quiet now as a the fire ran its course and left several tents smouldering.

Venn removed the arrow from the man's arm with a swift motion and then proceeded to cast a healing spell to stop the bleeding before binding his hands and feet. Several paladins and a ranger joined them now, having located their commander in the aftermath of the battle. Faer'nel never left Larien's side, accompanying her as the new arrivals were directed quickly to remove the dead or wounded bandits by Venn.

"Let's get out of the Dolwoods," he said, turning to Faer'nel. It was then he looked at the woman they had freed, her hair fell over her face and was still in the shadows of the awakening of the brightening. Yet there was something familiar about her. The colour of her matted hair, the way she stood. Venn couldn't quite place it. Perhaps she was from Natura and he had seen her there before...

"Aye, these woods have a sense of wrongness about them," Faer'nel said to the half Teleris. Turning to Larien, he said, "Come miss, it's alright now. We'll take care of you. Can you tell me where you are from?" He started to lead her toward the clearing. The Naturan commander did not follow his captain's lead but had an expression of curiosity on his face. He drew closer to Larien, still unable to see her eyes or face and asked, "I'm sorry m'lady, but you seem..."

It was then her eyes, touched by morning-light, lit up in bright emerald green. He knew these eyes. He had seen their like only among the Gil'dae's the family of his lost love. It occurred to him mat first that this might be a cousin until he saw her cheekbones. Although her face was more sunken with the abuse she suffered, there was no mistaking her identity.

Venn fell back a step, his eyes wide with recognition and disbelief. Faer'nel stopped to look to his commander and saw that the half-elf had gone pale, as if he had seen a ghost. "What? Who? Not," a jumble of words was all the Silver Star could utter until finally he said in a tone of uncertainty, "Larien?"

[Larien Gil'dae]

“Come now poppet, don’t want to make a scene,” the tattooed man whispered heavily into Larien’s ear, his rank breath hot at her neck as he dragged the young woman towards the shadows of the Dolwoods. “Let me go!” In vain, Larien still struggled against him, even digging her heels down into the dirt in an attempt to slow their progress. But the man only laughed at her desperation, crushing her tighter to him with his iron grip. She was no match for him – or for any such man for that matter – especially unarmed as she was. But Larien was not quite ready to give up yet. That brief taste of freedom still danced upon her tongue, tempting and teasing her senses. Adrenaline, sweet and swift, pumped through her veins, thrumming out a frenzied rhythm. It might be a hopeless cause… but it was a cause she was willing to fight for. Her life.

As the dawn bloomed on the horizon, the twin suns unfurling against the sky in a haze of orange and pink, the diminished band finally passed under the shadows of the trees. And immediately began experiencing some doubts. “Oi,” one muttered, giving a swift glance to Larien before looking to his leader. “Perhaps it’d be best if we left ‘er behind? She will only slow us down an – ” Any other reasoning the bandit might have had was lost, caught in his throat as an arrow pierced him and another standing close by. Despite herself, Larien couldn’t help but scream feebly in surprise – and fear. Would this brightening never end?

Apparently not.

“I’ll kill her! I swear!” Never before had Larien felt such fear as she had in that moment as she felt the sharpness of the blade press into her skin through the thin and tattered gown draping her form. “No please…” she pleaded with the tattooed man and with the mysterious beings lurking in the trees. But apparently there was no need. The beings were on her side: “Let her go and you might live.” Hope bubbled within her for yet another time in that long and drawn out affair. However, it was a rather short-lived feeling as her captor refused. Thunk. The sound of an arrow piercing flesh filled the air, accompanied by the thud of the tattooed man’s blade as it fell to the forest floor, along with his guttural cry of rage. However, it wasn’t the strange arrows appearing from the darkness that worried Larien so much as the gauntlet that materialized seemingly from thin air to strike her captor. The young woman stumbled forward weakly, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her weight as the arms of the bandit leader finally released her. Hand outstretched, she caught herself against a nearby tree and clung to it as though it were the only thing keeping her afloat amidst a raging river. And indeed, it was – a river of her emotions. It’s over! every nerve in her body screamed, rejoicing in the feeling of sweet victory. However, it wasn’t entirely over yet. Eyes flashing in the dim light thrown by the cover of the trees, Larien warily watched as two men appeared suddenly from the darkness, pulling back the hoods of their cloaks.

In that moment, there was no doubt in Larien’s mind that they were native Naturans. Still, months of captivity had left her far from trusting and she couldn’t yet bring herself to sink completely into the numbing relief that coursed through her body. She wanted her wits about her in case she had to run – not that she’d get very far in her current state… and against such able-bodied persons as her saviors.

Though darkness still clung to the forest, Larien could still make out the two men in the dim light – barely. The one closest to her was of obvious elvish descent and despite all her misgivings, the young woman couldn’t help but relax around one of her own kind. As to the one bending over the tattooed man… Larien wasn’t quite sure. There was something oddly familiar about his silhouette, the curve of his profile. However, she didn’t have long to study him as more figures appeared, gravitating to the man healing the bandit as their obvious leader. As he spoke, directing the new arrivals in what to do with the vagrants, Larien felt a growing uncertainty began to creep into her thoughts. She knew that voice. She had heard that voice in her dreams every darkening. But no. No it couldn’t possibly be. There was just no way… the words of the elven man next to her drew her from her daze, though she couldn’t quite find the words the answer his question. The unknown identity of the other still dominated her thoughts, pushing everything else from her mind.

She had to know.

As though the mysterious man shared her thoughts, he drew closer to her as they neared the clearing, the light from the twin suns finally spilling over into the Dolwoods, chasing the shadows from beneath the trees. From behind the curtain of her auburn hair, Larien viewed her saviors for the first time – a band of Silver Stars and a ranger – but it was only for their leader that she had eyes. She would have known him anywhere – the man of her dreams. Her fiancé. The warm light of dawn danced across his silver locks and illuminated his strong features – the straight line of his nose, the hard curve of his jaw. But his eyes, those eyes she loved so much, were what captivated her as they had so many times before. Those midnight eyes drew her in, consumed her whole. She never could escape from the intensity of his dark gaze. She never wanted to escape from it.

Her knees finally buckling beneath her as they had been threatening to do for the past candlemark, Larien grasped for Faer’nel’s arm in order to steady herself. She couldn’t bring herself to touch Venn. The fear that he might just be a dream lingered in her throat… and one could not touch a dream. But the Venn of her dreams had never taken a step back from her, had never paled at the sight of her as though she were a ghost. Then again perhaps she was? To him at least. To everyone. Her name rang from his lips with a note of uncertainty, lingering in the space between them. A silence fell upon the scene as Larien continued to gaze upwards into the eyes of her love. Hesitantly, she took a small step forward, her pale hand raising upwards, her long fingers extending to brush tentatively at Venn’s cheek. Never before had it occurred to her – except in that moment – that should they ever be reunited again that her sweetheart, her love, her Venn… might not feel the same for her as he had. Fear and doubt flooded her veins like poison. But all she could do was wait, suspended on an edge as thin as the blade of a knife.

“Venn…”

[Venn Drega]

His voice was just above a whisper, threatening to be carried away by the slightest breeze. To the paladin who spoke them, they were as clear as a bell for all else around him ceased to be. The Dolwoods and its long history of mystery and infamy faded into mist. The Naturan band that was taking up the bodies of the fallen and unconscious bandits became as ghosts to him. Every birdsong and even the colours that moved along the visual spectral band were muted and gray. All his attention, his entire world revolved around the woman before him now. He had tried for so long to forget her image only to find it haunting him in a wakeful dream. Yet when the details of her face became faded in his mind he tried to call it back into sharpness. The guilt of forgetting and having wanted to forget tore him apart. Yet now she was before him in the fleshed. She had changed and yet she had stayed the same. His mind was afire with the madness of attempting to accept a reality he had abandoned; that the love of his life, his betrothed was alive.

His midnight eyes were fixed upon her and only her voice calling to him confirmed that she was no apparition. It all came back to him, the line on her jaw, the arch of her brow, her brilliant gaze and the fullness of her lips. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes and he saw her as he once did that first kiss under the blossoms in Natura and their last in the busy courts of Aelyria Prime. Slowly the sense of his surroundings returned. Faer'nel had a look of concern and was calling to him, "Commander. Commander? Are you all right Venn? You look..."

"I'm fine Faer'nel. Go see to the others and we'll debrief after we have accounted for everyone," he said, never looking away from Larien as if he were afraid that she might disappear if he did. The ranger captain looked uneasy but left Venn with the woman they had just rescued, wondering what had gotten in to the paladin.

A smile reminiscent of the one he gave her in times past touched his lips as he stepped towards her, slowly at first but then quickening as he came close, his arms outstretched in an embrace. He held her close but gently as if she were made of glass. "Larien! My Larien!" He cupped her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes. There were tears in his own as he peered past them. His fingers touched her face and lips softly. She was as beautiful as ever to him. "Can it be true? Is it really you? The Aetherians have restored you to me after all this time!" He bent his head and kissed her delicately on the lips.

And yet there was something amiss in the back of his mind. Something gnawing. Still, in the moment, he pushed it aside, choosing to simply allow the incredible reunion to take its course.

[Larien Gil'dae]

Bliss. Pure and simple bliss. It was the feeling that exploded within Larien’s heart, rushing along her veins like liquid gold as Venn – the love of her life – pulled her close to his chest. “Not a darkening has passed that I have not dreamed of you,” the young woman whispered gently as the tears began to stream down her angular cheeks. It was all just too much for her to bear, the strength of the feelings coursing through her lithe form. She trembled against Venn’s body as they raged within her – relief, fear, but above all, love. Love. A burning and insistent love. Through the long and hard months, through it all, through the pain and the emptiness, Larien had never once stopped loving Venn. She had loved him, she thought, since that first brightening they had met those long eras ago. She had been only recently returned from the horrors of Acumin, so delighted had she been to be home in Natura once again. Then she had seen Venn standing there upon the cobbled street, his silver locks shimmering, his midnight eyes dark and mysterious. Nothing had ever been the same after that. He had saved her then, saved her from the horrors that awaited her in her dreams. Saved her from her memories. From herself. He was always saving her it seemed – both physically and emotionally.

“Oh Venn… my love…” Larien melted under his touch, forgetting for a few brief moments that she was filthy, a mere shadow of the woman she had once been. His strong hands brushed against her face, caressing her lips gently, and the young woman parted them in response as she leaned into his form, her body conforming to his as easily as though they had been made to do so. The warmth and solidity of his frame calmed her in a way that nothing else could and Larien pressed herself into that warmth, soaking it in like a flower would the rays of the twin suns. She needed him in a way she had never known before, with an intensity that was staggering… and slightly frightening to the elven maiden. She craved him as though she were dying of thirst and he, the only thing that could quench her.

As his lips brushed against hers, as gentle as the lightest caress of a spring breeze, the young woman gave a little sigh of contentment. Her hands were in his hair then, slender fingers entwining themselves with the silver locks as she reached herself up to return the kiss. It was a sweet and tender gesture, though laced with the hints of a rather deep and raw emotion threatening to burst from the icy interior of Larien’s heart that was slowly thawing under Venn’s attentions: passion. His musky scent – that aroma unique to him alone – intoxicated her senses. She would never be able to get enough of him. The feel of him. The taste of him. He was her everything and in that moment, she was drowning in him. “Venn,” she gasped, pulling away for a moment to catch her breath, her knees trembling beneath her from her weakness and from something else entirely that was new to Larien – an emotion she couldn’t name. It burned her from the inside, licking away slowly at her skin. Could Venn feel the intensity of its heat through her fingertips as she slowly brushed them against his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his lips, his jaw, his neck… exploring him as though it was for the first time?

“I love you.”

[Venn Drega]

It all returned to him like a flood. All the brightenings they had been robbed been robbed of fell away at the touch of her lips. The pleasant memories that had begun to fade came back revived to their full strength. He could do nothing but hold her, reveling in her unexpected return to him. His kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids gently, as if making up for the time lost. When the voice of Faer'nel sounded to call the troops from the Dolwoods, Venn scooped Larien up in his arms and carried her out back to the rallying point.

There, the Naturans cheered at the routing of the bandits and made ready for a return home. They had commandeered several wagons from the camp, salvaged the loot the marauding band had amassed and already had the prisoners loaded up. A caravan had been formed and they were ready to set off.

Venn carried Larien to a wagon tended by healers. Not many of the Naturans had been hurt but the few that were were being tended to. He was loathe to leave Larien, but it seemed she needed some rest and he needed to take a quick report from among his captains. So he leaned over the back of the wagon looking at her, his astonishment still evident in his dark stormy eyes. "They'll look after you well here, Larien. I'll be just outside. We're about a brightening from home so get some rest. I'm sure they'll care for you well enough in the temple infirmary to make sure you are at full strength before letting you go. That way I'll certainly be able to keep an eye on you," he smiled roguishly before disappearing behind the canvas flap that covered the wagon.

They traveled at a leisurely pace, allowing the force to recover from an arduous pursuit and the battle. Venn met with his captains and also looked over the prisoners. When all was done, he simply rode next to Larien's wagon. IT was as they neared Natura that his thoughts turned toward the many things he and Larien would catch up on and it was then the troubling reality of his situation struck him. His heart was divided and he did not know what to do.