The Serenade of Snakes [Amelia]

[Grim]

TS: The Second Cycle of Winter, Era XIII Post Fractum'

Perhaps it was the voices that woke her. Angry. Not quite shouting, but definitely not being as silent as they might have been. "Now you listen to me,"'a gravelly voice said, "this comes back to you. You were our man in Fortune Cove, till you decided to uproot and come back here. If you had still been here they wouldn't have been able to do this."

"It's not your place to question me, if I hadn't done it the House had been in ruins by now,"'that was Agamon, without a doubt, "Listen, you brought me out of retirement to play in this little charade," he said, "I don't owe you anything, you need to fix this. Or you will need to find yourself someone to play your games."

"Come now, Dawri'praaal? Retired? I would nev.." the sounds of conversation down below was cut off as the door opened. The pale blue light of the moons shone silently in through the closed shutters of Amelia's bed room. Silhouetted against the light coming in from the corridor was the slim figure of Shiandi.

"Get dressed," she said, "we have business to attend to in the city. Our schedule has been moved up." Behind her burned the lamps, casting warm light into Amelia's room. "I will meet you at the front door in half a candlemark, dress warm."

She left, secure in the knowledge that Amelia was awake and on her way. The small bowl of water by her bed which was used for freshening up had gathered a thin layer of ice while she had slept and the carpets were freezing. Outside the moons kept a silent vigil, bathing the city of Nexus Prime in a pale, blue light.

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

Even with a full set of blankets and sheets covering her, the cold seemed to cut to the bones that darkening. It wasn't as though she had not seen her fair share of cold Carmelyn winters before - some perhaps even harsher than this one - but that didn't mean Amelia had to like the cold. In fact, sometimes she wondered how life in Arakmat would be like, only to stop at the thought of the scorching sun turning her fair-skinned self into a mass of freckles. That and she had yet to find a hat that actually suited her and was within the reach of her budget.

Maybe it was the cold keeping her sleep light, or the anger in the words that filtered into her room just too loud to ignore. Sleepy blue eyes opened slowly, gauging the weight of their eyelids to decide that no, it wasn't morning yet. Agamon arguing... again. A charming man in some ways, Lord Agamon - but one you'd never want as an enemy. Just like Shiandi, Amelia supposed.

The details of the conversation, she did not really understand... and even then, would she have cared? She wasn't a creature of Nexus. Sweet Materna, she hated Nexus. A place where unmarried girls were prohibited to read romance books at the library could not be called civilized, after all. She wouldn't be spending the rest of her life here, oh no. This was limbo. The less she got entangled in the spiderweb that was Nexus, the better. Still, she could not help but listen, patting her pillow tiredly in preparation for a second stint of sleep that never came.

In fact, as soon as Shiandi moved the second step into her room, she had already managed a sitting position, hands holding the sheets and eyes wide open as though Jorel himself had come for her. 'Any more sudden than this and I'll get a stroke', she thought - as she'd since decided that Shiandi could not read her mind no matter how scary she was - but her lips suppressed a very inappropriate yawn and merely came up with "Yes, Lady Shiandi." There wasn't much enthusiasm about it, unless one counted zombies as enthusiastic beings, but that was justified by the timing of the whole thing.

Once Shiandi had left, Amelia threw the sheets aside in order to fight the temptation to lie there for just five minutes, five dangerous minutes. That way it was just too cold to event think of lounging about. She broke the ice on the bowl and threw some four-celsius-degree water at her face. "I wonder how Lady Shiandi can always be so energetic, Father," she whispered. Lady Shiandi had not been shovelling snow all afternoon long, truth told. Putting on quite a few layers of clothing, she slipped her feet into her favorite shoes, tied the strip of cloth around her brand, brushed her hair as best she could and finished with her thickest coat.

Girls weren't made for dressing up in half a candlemark! Yet she managed it with time to spare and, only concession to vanity, she wrapped her aquamarine scarf around her neck, tying it in a rather girlish slipknot. And then off she was, quickly making her way downstairs to meet Shiandi at the front door.

Their schedule... just what kind of schedule could not wait till sunrise?

[Grim]

Shiandi awaited at the front door, dressed in a long, coat which sprouted fur around the edges. Her carriage was standing by and the large driver smiled down at Amelia from his perch up on the driver's seat.

Without a word he jumped down and opened the door for Shiandi and Amelia, with frost smoke coming out of the side of his mouth as he did so. Shiandi though offered up no misty breath to the cold nights of Nexus Prime. She merely stood there, her dark skin a contrast to the pale snow around the manor. "We're leaving," was all she said to Amelia as she climbed inside.

As soon as Amelia was inside the door closed behind her and the ride started, the jingling of the harness the only thing which broke the stony silence of Shiandi, she seemed strangely introverted, perhaps preoccupied. Though closer inspection revealed that she had already made herself ready for whatever was to come. Streaks of dried blood caked just up to her neck, barely visible around her fur coat.

They made haste across the city, and out of it, muffled conversation revealed a few guards being slipped money to let them pass by in the midst of the night.

Once out into the fields beyond the City of Nexus Prime the carriage kept going, the hard-packed snow offering little resistance to the wheeled box. Finally though, they came to a small forest holt at the very outskirts of what might be called Nexus Prime, to the south Markus' Quarter stretched out in all its chilled non-magnificence.

The driver stopped and soon the door opened, the lithe form of Shiandi was first out the door. The herculean driver picking heavy bags off the roof with an ease which betrayed heavy musculature. "We go on foot from here," Shiandi said, the driver seated himself on the carriage again, smoking a small cigar to keep the warmth in. Shiandi picked up one of the lighter bags, leaving three of the heavy looking ones to Amelia. And then Shiandi was off, trekking in amongst the trees of the holt, wading through the knee-deep snow little respect for the twsting pines which loomed over her and directed her path through the wilds of the holt.

She turned her face back towards Amelia only at one point, to say, "Hurry." and leave it at that.

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

These mid-darkening awakenings would bring bags under her eyes if left unchecked, and Amelia was taking a mental note to apply sliced zucchini the next morning, when surprise filled her heart upon seeing the carriage; the kind of surprise you get when something breaks your daily routine. No, this was definitely uncommon - Shiandi, she remembered, was a good walker, having marched all the way from Juju's house in the docks to her manor in the Jasmine District without breaking a sweat. Night crime hardly posed a challenge to the Outlander, so for her to use a carriage, the destination had to be quite far away from the manor. She looked at the driver for an instant before jumping on with two graceful steps, somewhat glad that she wasn't wearing a skirt.

Her first carriage ride. Having been a Cinderella back at the village, Amelia had dreamed many times of becoming a noblewoman with her own carriage, but admittedly, not even her fantasy could have imagined that her first ride would be like this - with a blood-painted foreigner across from her seat. That Shiandi looked... different tonight she had soon realized, though the cause of it the young Vagar couldn't begin to fathom. It had been only a few brightenings since the sneak attack on Nexus, and maybe that could explain why her mentor seemed uneasy. She hadn't forgotten, either - the pirate called Snake had mentioned the black witch. Could Shiandi have been involved in an attack upon her own city? To even entertain such thoughts seemed absurd...

Yet, Amelia considered, Nexus wasn't really her city. Just like the Half-elf, the Outlander had come from a distant land. So... was that such a far-fetched thought? Blue eyes peeked through the curtain and watched as the driver bought their exit from the city. 'Where on Telath is she taking me...' her body tingled with nervousness for a few instants, she hadn't left Nexus ever since she'd walked past its gates. She really didn't want to know about this scary woman's agenda... and yet she did, because it would end up shaping the Outlaw's future.

'And why the blood? ... why the luggage? How long is she planning to stay?' Having honed her observation skills well beyond what they used to be, such details now stuck out more easily than ever before. Life in Nexus tended to do that to people, a ground of survival of the fittest. This, though, wasn't Nexus anymore. The holt - she'd probably sighted it just before entering the city the first time, but she hadn't been in the right frame of mind to notice it. What business Shiandi could have in this place, and especially what business involving her student... Amelia knew she would find out soon enough.

The air seemed to sting even more bitterly outside the walls. She stepped off cautiously; the sight of woods would have been a welcome change in daytime, but now they just made her nervous. Many beasts probably lurked here that wouldn't mind treating themselves to a maiden's flesh - and despite Juju and Nei's remarks there was a decent amount to be had. Still, she didn't really have a choice, did she? Picking up Shiandi's heavy looking luggage, she realized with horror that the snow reached to her knees. Of course no-one bothered to shovel it daily around these parts. That was it, then, a guaranteed cold. Just great.

"Yes," she said in a misty cloud of breath, one bag in either hand and one flung over her shoulder. Following Shiandi's fleeting silhouette as best she could, it wasn't long before she found herself panting and, naturally, chilled. Wondering briefly if Father could feel the same cold, a single thought monopolized Amelia's mind. 'This is only going to get worse...'

[Grim]

As they trekked through the snow, Shiandi making a furrow in the wet snow for Amelia to follow, the scenery slowly changed. The trees didn't quite give way to anything, but in between them small bumps in the snow appeared. Dusting the snow off one of them revealed a small tombstone, as they went deeper in the small bumps in the snow became larger and then larger still. Parts of them sticking out of the snow, a statue of an Allerian, slowly giving in to the decay of ages here, a triangle and two birds about to take flight there.

The crumbling stone gave them all a defaced look, but there had been none but them here for so long. An unnatural hush covered the ancient graveyard, no birds cawed or sung, no animals traipsed through the snow. There was just the two of them.

Finally though they reached what was undoubtedly a roof. A small stone crypt sticking out of the ground. "There's a shovel in one of the bags," Shiandi said, "dig the door free." Using a finger to indicate which side of the building the door was on. It was a large, oaken door, with rusting, iron twisting and winding around its frame, forming the shape of a skull right in the middle of the door.

Shiandi stood there, quite silently while Amelia dug and once it was done to her satisfaction she descended onto the bare patch of ground Amelia had made and brought a key out from her bag, it slid into the lock slickly.

"Get the bags," was all Shiandi said as she slid the door outwards. There was a small alcove where torches were resting, one of those in hand she journeyed down the stone staircase and into the depths below. Under the flickering light of the torch mistress and apprentice descended.

It was hard to tell how long they walked. It could have been five minutes, it could have been five candlemarks, the ancient, crumbling stones on both sides, seemed to offer no discernible difference from each other apart from a slight tendency grow browner and dirtier the further they descended.

Finally, they came upon a room in the depths of the crypt. Alcoves were in place at regular intervals, filled with dead bodies long since deceased by the look of their decay. Small spider's web's ran across the inert bodies.

Four large bronze braziers rested in a circle around the middle of the room, the flickering light of the torch making their intricate carvings seem to dance some sinister dance, "Fill these with the coal,"'said Shiandi, "it's in one of your bags." What was perhaps more disturbing than the corpses though, more disturbing than the dancing images of twisted men and women on the braziers was what was in the middle of the room.

In the deep earth chill of the room a large altar rested, with enough room for a person to lie on, and then some. The grey stone was covered by a dark brown substance it had been Amelia's unfortunate destiny to run into several times before. This was blood. Old blood. And nestled all around the altar were a variety of bones, some of which were undoubtedly human.

So the question was, why had Shiandi brought her here in the middle of the night?

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

Dead. Everything here was dead, you could just feel the nothingness of it all on the skin. The fear of wild beasts was soon banished, though only to be replaced by a subtler and more unsettling feeling, something... ominous. Clearly Shiandi wouldn't have painted herself if she hadn't been expecting something out of the ordinary to take place here. And just as clearly, her apprentice was wearing none of the witch's spirit wards. Apparently Shiandi wasn't too concerned about that simple problem, though.

Wrong choice of shoes, as well. The shoes Amelia had bought with Skay were ideal on the paved streets of Nexus, but here one would need boots, heavy, knee-high boots. Of course if Shiandi had said so from the start instead of letting her assume things - something she'd probably done on purpose - now she wouldn't have been stumbling on each step of the way, nearly landing face down in the snow. Evil, evil Lady Shiandi. Breathing heavily due to her slightly anemic body's lack of stamina - it appeared that her Human and Elven sides hadn't merged in the best way possible, as though Nature hadn't approved of it whole-heartedly - every pace was torture to her. Even when she realized they had come to an ancient graveyard, simple survival occupied her mind for the most part.

Finally, when she thought she was going to collapse and her limbs started to feel numb, Shiandi seemed to have reached her destination. It was hard to say what drove Amelia forwards now, but she did reach into the bags and pulled out the shovel, leaning against it as she planted it into the snow to catch her breath. 'A little longer... just a little longer...' The mantra apparently worked, or maybe it was just sheer survival instinct. Helping herself with one foot, she created the opening Shiandi required, and if anything all the practice she had had in Nexus had made her an excellent snow shoveller. She could probably pack a decent punch now... if only that weren't so unladylike, that is.

Things did at last begin to look better with her legs out of the white blanket of snow. Even if the interior of the crypt was even more ominous than the outside, the girl had seen her fair share of ominous places, courtesy of two Nexian Adjurators, so she had developed a clinic eye of sorts. The Half-elf held a torch in front of her, enjoying what little warmth it emanated. Even the cold, cold bed she had left behind at the manor now seemed like paradise lost as she descended behind the ebony witch, down to the lowest level. She would catch a fever, it was just inevitable after such exposure to the elements.

'There are probably entities here that I can't see,' the exiled maiden thought, casting a glance at the mummified bodies. The sight would've made her cringe when she was smaller, but now it was just a corpse, an empty box. Something of yours that you couldn't bring along on the last ride. As she approached the middle of the room, filling the braziers with coals, Amelia finally began to put two and two together and realize just what the room had been used for. Even if she hadn't noticed it, the cracking noise of a human tibia under her shoe was a sure giveaway.

Bad omen. She stifled a gasp at the sight, and a second, less successful attempt at stopping the sound came upon spotting the bloodstains on the altar. She turned to Shiandi, laying the bags on the floor. "Human... sacrifices?" Her usually honeyed voice made dull by the harsh weather, a part of her mind was racing in a very alarming direction whereas the other was trying to reassure the first that it couldn't be, that she hadn't done anything to deserve it. Unless... unless one counted her behavior with Snake. Was she being... sacrificed for hindering Snake, or something?

'Materna, oh ancient Mother, deliver me from the violence of man and the blade of chance, that I may live and give birth in thy great name,' she recited mentally, watching Shiandi wide-eyed with her back to the altar. "What is this place for, Lady Shiandi?" It came out in a thin, strained voice but an audible one. If Shiandi really meant to sacrifice poor Amelia for some reason, the Outlander had been truly diabolical about it, even going as far as tiring her out completely so that she wouldn't be able to fight back. What would happen now? Was there a simple way to explain why Shiandi had the key to a crypt where human sacrifices were performed? And if there was one, was it the obvious one?

[Grim]

Shiandi did not answer her first question. Rather the evil, evil Adjurator was slowly unpacking one of the bags, picking thick, leather straps out of it. Then fastening them, one after another to metal rings set in the floor, each at a corner of the central altar. A tight knot, then the next strap, then the next. Making sure that each was fixed firmly to the metal rings by giving them a sharp tug. By the time she had finished with that Amelia had filled the braziers.

"This room is used for certain rites," Shiandi said, "there's a power here which you will not readily find elsewhere. And, of course, it is private, always an important trait in our line of work." She smiled coldly.

"No one can hear us down here," she said, "you can scream as loudly as you want."

She wandered around the room, touching her torch to each of the braziers, lighting them and sending a flood of warmth and light through the icy, dark room. The heat helped somewhat, but there was still a chill in this room which clung to the walls with a fervour. Shiandi bent down into the bags once more and took out a knife, placing it blade first into one of the braziers.

"Get undressed and lie down on the altar," she commanded, in a voice which brooked no argument. She had situated herself both between Amelia and the exit, but also between Amelia and the knife she had put into the fire. The braziers offered only a weak, flickering light. The torch now fastened to the wall did little better. But then perhaps there would be no reading required down here. It was in fact doubtful that any reading would be required down here at all.

Of course, Nei had told her that certain of Shiandi's apprentices disappeared without warning. Had they too left the house like this, or had they run away before they came to such an ill fated end?

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

She was going to die.

She was going to die for real.

A surreal thing, she had helped set up her own execution and now, watching helplessly as Shiandi tucked the knife in the brazier, Amelia's body felt rigid and unresponsive. It was over. Really, what had been the meaning of this? Why had she bothered to grit her teeth through the horror that had been her life, only for everything to end like this? The final question now was, would Shiandi plunge her into Aeternia forever or summon her soul from the Umblat to act as her servant? Same thing, really.

Gods, but she didn't want to die. She really didn't want to die. She wanted to live and get life to hand over all the happiness it owed her. So, naturally, her blue eyes, wide open with pupils shrunk to pinholes despite the lack of lighting, immediately turned to the door, only later realizing that such an escape was impossible. Shiandi blocked the way, fully rested and probably ready to unleash a host of spirits and ghosts on her if she tried anything funny. The knife, too, was an avenue, much to the girl's surprise for even considering it. She'd lost her fear of blades thanks to Nei, and in a matter of life and death there was no telling what Amelia could do with a knife in her hand. But no, Shiandi had positioned herself far closer to the weapon.

No options were left, her body refused to even cry. It was over, and the maiden's eyes went back to the Adjurator, looking at her soon-to-be killer. At this point, the only thing she'd left to choose was whether her death would be a proper one, leaving this world with dignity, or a pathetic one. Amelia thought it over for a few seconds, and made her choice. 'Father, since I won't be able to fulfil my other promises to you, I will at least make you proud of me now.' Biting her lip, she raised one shaky hand and undid the first button of her jacket.

Without a further word, the other buttons quickly followed suit, and she even gained speed as she went. It is fair to say that her life flashed before her as she threw the jacket on the floor, though not where the bones were - even if she didn't need them anymore, they were still her clothes. Soon more of them joined the jacket, including two blouses, trousers and undergarments. The strip of cloth from her father's grave came last and rested on top of the pile as Amelia adjusted the hair falling on her naked shoulders. Here, in the half-darkness and cold that filled her being with shivers, as she stood with a pride of sorts, she perhaps thought of herself as beautiful for the very first time - the shell she'd have to leave soon.

No, she wouldn't beg. She wouldn't make a scene of it. She'd have to scream, most likely, but she wouldn't break. This was what the maiden really was, what she should have been from the start. Too bad she'd only realized it in the end, when it was too late. Even so, having gone this far was a reason for pride, however small. Maybe there had been some small meaning to this, after all. "Do what you must, Lady Shiandi, but please finish this quickly," Amelia said, taking three silent steps towards the altar. She sat on the cold stone and then lay down on it, arms parallel to the body. Two tears ran down her temples instead of her cheeks and she suppressed a sob. Shiandi would have nothing more from the Half-elf.

'Sorry.'

[Grim]

Shiandi did not smile, nor did she make any reply as Amelia disrobed. It was the obedience she expected. As Amelia lay down on the stone altar though, the chill of stone greeted her bare skin. The air in here was warmed by the braziers and seemed to retain a good heat, the stone though, it clung to the chill like an old friend.

Rough leather wrapped around Amelia's right wrist. Shiandi moved around the altar, then the right wrist. Trapping her, binding her down upon the stone altar beneath the woodland cemetary. Her right foot. Then her left. She was pinned. Stuck in this position. A final strap of leather binding her head tight, so he could not move it. All she could do now was wriggle in the position she was in and try to take in as much as she could with her eyes.

A rustle of clothing could be heard, and she could see Shiandi at the very edge of her vision. The witch was naked, the blood runes she had drawn on her body squirming uneasily in the light of the braziers. More rustling, not clothing this, but clinking as well. A bag was being unpacked. The cooing of a rooster in a cage as it awoke from whatever slumber Shiandi had put it in to make it silent along the way here.

Then a scraping sound, slowly circling the altar. Shiandi was making a circle, encasing her and the braziers. Then Shiandi stepped up to the altar, standing above Amelia, a glass knife in her one hand, a white rooster in the other. "Ioelat," she whispered, "we give this one to you, Kieerlyn, your blessing is wanted. Ioelat. We give this one to you. Kieerlyn. Your blessing is wanted." Repeated again and again and again. The tone of her voice increasing till it seemed to fill the tomb with its chant. As she reached her crescendo the rooster was cut open, the blood and guts spilling onto Amelia.

The room formally thrummed with power, Amelia could feel her father trying to pull at her body, more than just leather held his form though and if her physical self struggled against the bonds, so did her father struggle against his, both without any success.

Discarded, empty of the blood required for the rooster fell onto the floor. The blood of it rapidly cooling on Amelia's stomach. Shiandi lost no time though and continued her chanting, a low susurrus now. She dipped her fingers in the blood pooling and she dragged it across Amelia's bound form. Drawing figures as she went along. The chanting continued throughout, Shiandi going through the words so quickly they were all but impossible to make out where one started and one stopped.

Finally, it seemed she was satisfied with her master piece, having drawn a pair of triangles on each of Amelia's cheeks and a line of blood down her nose. She moved down towards Amelia stomach and licked the remainder of the blood. Lapping it up in the manner of a cat.

A bottle was held to her mouth, and she drank eagerly of the contents, Amelia could hear the glug-glug of the bottle as it emptied into her mouth. And then Amelia lost her vision. Shiandi spat the contents of her mouth, saliva, blood and liquor into her eyes. And it burned.

Shiandi seemed to take no note of her discomfort though, rather she forced Amelia's mouth open with one hand, wrapping the other around Amelia's tongue. Still the chanting continued and as one hand let go Amelia could feel the taste of still warm blood on the tip of her tongue. And then the came the sharp blade, cutting into her tongue. Blood spurted once more, her own this time. But Shiandi had a vice like grip on her tongue and the only good biting down would have done would have been to further bite herself.

And then came the burning. The searing hot blade Shiandi had put aside earlier burning into the newly opened wound. White hot pain lancing through her tongue. Shiandi's hand slipped from around it and soon after, cold water washed over her face. Taking the burning haze away from Amelia's eyes.

Thus it was revealed to her, the world around her. Gaunt, long since rotted figures standing at each of her splayed out limbs, holding her down, holding her father down. Shiandi slumped to the ground, exhausted. Half sitting, half leaning against the base of the altar to which Amelia had been fastened. It seemed... it seemed it was over.

The rite of initiation was done with. And she was still alive. Which was more than she could say for the other inhabitants of this place that she could see.

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

On top of the stone altar, the girl's naked body felt so rigid that even shaking in terror proved impossible. Even if she had been able to move, however, she was fully resigned to her death, and she could face any kind of ritual murder. Or so she thought, naively. Truth was, she had prepared herself for death, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Expecting a blade to slice her throat, or stab and expose her still beating heart, being left alive at the end of this performance did not number among the scenarios she had considered.

After Shiandi bound her with straps, natural instinct took over, making her wrlggle a little to find out how much maneuvering space she had left. Not much; in fact, next to none. All the while Amelia was fighting the tears back in a final display of pride in front of her father, but of course it wasn't easy at all, resigned or not. At this point, though, the Half-elf figured Shiandi would pull out the knife and end her life. Great was, therefore, her shock upon seeing the Outlander stand naked by the altar, and for an instant she doubted her eyes. That was when she realized this was going to be neither quick nor painless. And above all, this was going to humiliate her to the last second.

'Why? Why? WHY?' the question spun obsessively inside the Outlaw's head as she watched the rite from her unfavorable position as best she could. What had she done to warrant such cruelty? Then Shiandi produced a rooster, and Amelia knew it would be sacrificed soon, though the purpose of such she could not tell. The creation of a circle confirmed her suspicion that the rite resembled that of ghost summoning to a degree, but by this time her mind was busy reciting shallow prayers to the gods. Shallow because she knew she didn't stand a chance at entering Aetheria after her crimes and meddling in a forbidden art.

She could feel Shiandi's chant pick up and her breathing, already uneven, became clearly ragged with fear as she waited for it to reach its zenith. Amelia wanted to close her eyes and just drift into nothingness, and yet she could not help but watch wide-eyed, only to let out the first, stifled, squeal as she felt the rooster's warm blood and innards fall on her naked body, bringing back memories of other warm blood on her hands. But this was still child's play next to what came next. She had never been touched by a man in an intimate way before, and Shiandi broke psychological barriers that were not for her to cross by painting her body in blood; the consequences of which would surely leave long-lasting scars on her. Amelia had been lucky enough to never suffer the atrocity called rape, but in that moment she was sure this must be what it felt like to be violated. The same feeling of helplessness... the same feeling of being dirty.

Pure terror in her eyes and a furious red on her cheeks, her body and face became a canvas for Shiandi's art as even Father wriggled within, as though rebelling against the witch's touch. A second shriek and then a third and a fourth followed when the black woman licked the blood off her stomach, and unfortunately not because she was ticklish (even though she was) but out of disgust - what a sick and indecent way to leave the Material Plane! Amelia had hoped Shiandi would at least keep it clean, but clearly things had turned out a little differently. Even a two-Crown slut would have found it shameful, let alone someone like Amelia who masked her lack of self-confidence behind an act of flawless looks and manners!

What next? What other humiliation did the Adjurator have in store for her? She found out soon enough, her blue eyes being wide open just when Shiandi spat the contents of her mouth in her face. Then, as her eyes burned as though they'd been poked out with a hot iron, she had a gag reflex and for the first time she could not control her actions, hands trying to reach her head to wipe the vile fluids off her face, screaming. Needless to say, it only hurt her wrists and nothing more. Hot tears of pain and shame streaked to the sides of her head; and then, only then, did Shiandi proceed to the last act of the ritual, the climax of such a dark application of her craft.

Pain. Pain like she'd never experienced before. She screamed, a scream to make the previous ones pale. She screamed to the top of her lungs. She screamed for her life and dignity, life juice seeping from her tongue, one of the most sensitive parts of a humanoid body. Finally, a bucket of cold water washed some of the filth away from her eyes and she could see again.

'This will let you see the world as we see it' Shiandi had said once. She had wandered back then, how did one become one of them. Now she knew, and her newly empowered eyes stared at the four ghosts that pinned both girl and ghost-Father in place. It wasn't a healthy look, though, she had the eyes of a broken doll. She still felt helpless and dirty. She was a shaking, crying, and sobbing mass of terror and shame. Amelia's tongue would likely swell now, but she didn't really care.

A broken doll. Staring at some point of the vault over her head, the girl just wouldn't stop crying. Shiandi had not prepared her for that. A few words of warning would have been enough, if such a rite could not be helped. But Shiandi had taken away a piece of her innocence without a second thought. Why hadn't she told her anything before? Why such gratuitous cruelty?

As Amelia's naked body, now streaked with blood and sweat, began to calm and the sobs to soften, a dull joy for being alive bloomed from her fear. And from that joy and fear combined, a tiny spark of hate was born.

[Grim]

There was no sound in that crypt for some time but the heavy breathing of Shiandi. As the dull throbbing of her tongue abated though it became obvious that Lady Shiandi was not done quite yet. At the edge of the circle they were beginning to flock. Spirits and ghosts. The dead and the not-living, side by side. Watching her carefully. Amelia could all but see the blood that had been painted on her writhe uncomfortably in the meagre light offered by the braziers.

Shiandi rose, her weariness evident in the way she held herself. Pulling herself up by her own hands. Her body seemingly unwilling, but her eyes still gleaming with pure will. She opened Amelia's mouth, her hand surprisingly strong as it pressed against her jaw to get her to open, a series of bitter tasting leaves spread themselves around Amelia's mouth, "Do not swallow them, they will stop the swelling and dull your pain," her voice seemed almost gentle for a change. Pitying, perhaps. She reached behind Amelia's head, releasing the leather strap that held her head so tightly.

It was not over though.

The cold hands of Shiandi roamed over Amelia's body, one hand splashing cold water onto her, the other rubbing away the stains of blood which covered the apprentice. She did not stop till every one of her signs and sigils had been removed from Amelia's pale skin.

The ghosts and spirits at the edge of the circle were formally tittering amongst each other. And for once, for once it seemed to the young half-Vagaran that she could understand what they were saying. Not all of it, they were not speaking to her, but the snatches she could hear, they were understandable. "Soon," one of them said, "sacrifice," was another caught in the susurruss. They wobbled back and forth, their half forms shifting back and forth, the ghosts seeming stuck in something resembling their long gone flesh bodies, the spirits shifting back and forth like between overcoats.

And though her tongue was clearly foreign, Amelia could suddenly understand what Shiandi was saying to them, "stands before you this brightening, naked, bereft of any defence."

Then her black foot stepped across the bloody circle on the floor and they flooded in, flocking around Amelia like vultures, some pinching idly at her skin, others starting to pick her father's hand out of hers. The ghosts who had held her up till now, removed themselves. But around her they swarmed, the ghosts and the spirits.

She could feel them brushing against her, like a silken sheet being tossed against her by the wind, only considerably more unpleasant textures were present. Some were gabbering amongst themselves, not inaudibly, just too quickly to be understood. And across the room, visible through the throng of ghosts, Shiandi was leaning against the wall and watching. Some of them, the ghosts in particular were talking quite vividly about what they were going to do to her, things that made what Shiandi had done seem a walk in the park. The spirits seemed more manageable to that effect, they seemed merely interested in consuming aspects of her. Some wanted sixteen eras of her life, others her innocence, others again wanted her warmth, some wanted her joy, some wanted torture, some wanted slavery. The debate rang back and forth over her.

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

They were watching her.

The realization hit her like an anvil as soon as she let her eyes wander from the ceiling of the crypt, staring at the perimeter of the circle. She was a strange animal, exposed for the enjoyment of these ghosts and spirits flocking into this place to watch her pain and revel in it. You couldn't get much more humiliated than this. But she still lived, and now that Amelia had tasted a morsel of hope, she wasn't going to let go of it that easily. Even if she had nothing, she would cling to that nothing with all of herself.

With her head being given a few more degrees of freedom, she stared back at them. Even without the herbs Shiandi had stuffed into her mouth, she would have felt the bitter taste of indignity. The girl did not rebel to Shiandi washing the blood away from her body, even though the act did not make her feel any less dirty than before. The snippets in the foreign tongue she could now understand did, however, give her a revelation. It was all a huge deją vu, all of it. She had lived through this once before, the brightening she had been branded as an Outlaw. Had Shiandi not given her a new brand on her tongue? The threats, the pain, the shame, but above all... the eyes. Granted, not all of these things had eyes, but Amelia could still feel them watch her. Eyes that judged.

Eyes without the slightest trace of mercy in them. Eyes that would not close. Countless eyes basking in her pain. She had been all but destroyed by those eyes, more so than by the branding or the loss of status. Those eyes had always reminded her that no-one would ever accept her, that her continuing to live was an insult in and of itself, that she had only lived on because she lacked the courage to kill herself. She realized how things changed and yet remained the same as Shiandi stepped outside her circle, rendering it useless and granting them entrance.

The newborn Adjurator felt them over her body, listening to their plans and how much they were going to enjoy this. She only wished they would leave Father alone as they could probably bring more pain upon him than they could on her. Strangely enough, she did not scream for the first twenty seconds or so, simply listening with detached ears to their proposals, to what they were going to do to her if they had their way. She did not know whether Shiandi would let them, but she did understand one thing in those twenty seconds, covered under a blanked of spirits and ghosts.

That in order to make the unforgiving eyes go away, there were only two ways. Amelia would have to disappear altogether, or force those eyes shut. One path led to oblivion, the other to a battle that had nothing to do with weapons. And even if she was petty and insignificant beyond recognition...

... her enemies were even more so. While Lady Shiandi commanded blind fear in the heart of her apprentice because she had managed to put a leash on Amelia and her agenda lay beyond her understanding, these ghosts and spirits seemed quite pathetic behind their threats if one only stopped to think. Ghosts so envious of the life they had lost that they enjoyed others being stripped of theirs, and spirits entirely bent on their little planar selves. No wonder they treasured their names so; it was pretty much the only thing setting them apart from each other. Little, unthinking maggots.

A guttural sound came out of her throat as she struggled to get free from the straps, though there was far more rage than fear in it this time. Shiandi deserved being feared because the half-Elf did not know who the witch really was, but these beings she could actually understand, and understanding cancels fear. She decided to tell them so, and despite the leaves in her mouth and her wounded tongue, she tried to speak as best she could. "Don't touch me!" was the sentence of choice, more of an order than a supplication, and then it occurred to Amelia that if she could understand the language Shiandi had used, then it was reasonable to assume that she could also speak it. She looked for those words in her mind, words that, if found, would allow her to exclaim "Don't touch me!" in that obscure language of the non-living.

[Grim]

They wrapped around her, like a cocoon, some of them so strong she could feel decayed skin slithering hers, others so weak their presence was unfelt, others merely as a strange, boding tingling. The heat from the braziers seemed to leak out of the place, as if they had taken it all away. Their very presence denying the place of any heat.

Her second utterance seemed to cause her new tongue to shift in ways that were, distinctly unpleasant and right now, painful. Although the pain would shift, there was something strange and unearthly about the way the tongue moved when pronouncing those words, something strange and new certainly, but also distinctly unpleasant, as if trying to do something the body had never been meant to do.

And then they answered her command, "Why should we?" one ghost whispered, another repeated the sentiment, a spirit seemed to twist words around in its strange tongue. "Disapprobation. Fear. Unwillingness to comply." The words twisting around in Amelia's ears, as if they were not meant to be heard by any mortal ear. They continued to circle her though, no one seeming quite ready to make the opening move quite yet. One or two made a feint towards her body, only to pull out at the last instant. Or were they pushed out?

She could feel her father move, not her body, merely struggling against the others who would try to seize her body for their own. But was he doing it out of fatherly love, or to keep what was his? Was there a difference? Did it matter?

Shiandi watched the proceedings with idle eyes. Leaning against the wall while the shadow of a smile played over her lips. It was hard to tell who she was watching though, was it Amelia or was it the ethereal host arrayed around her? If she had any sympathy for the plight of her apprentice, she showed none of it.