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February 3, 2004 | |
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Trump call...
To the image of Lisle, Pestilence says "Lady," she intones, her voice a layer, Rider and host, "I would have a word with you."
The image of Lisle puzzles over this incarnation of Yosannah, the force of her mind strong and insistent. But after a moment she relaxes. "Ah. Yes. I have been hoping to speak to you soon. Now is fine. I think, under the circumstances, you should come here."
To the image of Lisle, Pestilence nods, seemingly agreeable though her visage belies no emotion, almost as if she were not capable of such, "Certainly. Your hand, Lady."
The image of Lisle offers to pull you through.
You grasp Lisle's hand and she pulls you through.
Lisle's Suite - Castle Amber...
Lisle says, "I have seen you this way once before." Letting go the hand, stepping back to look Pestilence over.
Pestilence slides her hand from the Princess' and bows her head in greeting. "I would prefer not to manifest this way, Lady, but we do fuction better when we merge our efforts." Her voice is an echo, layered and even, "At least under the current circumstances."
Lisle's hand indicates the couches near the window. "Would you care to sit? If you sit?" Her tall form echoes the formal politeness she always exhibits. "And by the way, I am still trying to contact my uncle, who I believe will be very helpful."
Pestilence moves to follow after the woman, "Your friend is here, in the event you weren't certain. Though this is not always the way we..." Her eyes go distant and she pauses mid-stide, "Pardon me."
You have established contact with Dai.
Lisle takes a seat even as Pestilence pauses.
Pestilence intones to someone distant, "Yes, Dai."
The image of Dai is sitting on a couch holding a bottle of beer. He smiles. "Hello.....ummm.....I have no idea what to call you when you're like this, sorry. Are you well?"
In no time at all there is tea all over the low table, tea pot, coffee pot, plates of sweets and salts, and all it required was Lisle's looking at it.
Pestilence offers to the unseen individual, "Well enough. I am with the Princess Lisle of Amber. Should I ask permission for you to join us?"
Lisle lifts her eyes to Pestilence when she overhears. Watchful.
The image of Dai yawns as he nods. "Sure. I haven't spoken with her in a long time. Not since we were all at my father's that one night."
To the image of Dai, Pestilence turns her attention elsewhere but the trump contact remains, more faint for a moment...
The woman's attention turns to Lisle, "Lady, Dai of the Courts wishes to join us. With your permission of course."
Lisle says, "Well," considering, then smiles with a light hearted, "Someone I haven't not met? Indeed, bring this lady through."
To the image of Dai, Pestilence seems to smile at the object of her attention.
Pestilence smiles and nods, her gaze lingers elsewhere and she extends her hand...
Dai grasps your hand and you pull him through.
The auburn haired woman slides her hand from Dai's and makes a sweeping gesture toward Lisle, "Dai, Princess Lisle of Amber."
Dai slips a trump into his pocket and takes a quick look around, a bottle of beer in one hand. He turns and bows to Lisle, smiling. "Princess Lisle. A pleasure to see you again."
Lisle is standing by the time Dai comes through, tall and proud and lordly, her gaze long-eyed and noble from beneath the lowered, dark-rooted blonde lashes. "Ah. I see you. We have met. Brandon's doing?" As if she cannot quite remember.
Pestilence stands quietly off to the side, allowing the two to get reacquainted.
Dai straightens and shakes his head. "No. We met in the WEB one night. Yosannah was there. Santiago was offering to strip for you and then the three of you ran off. You never did tell me those stories. We met again at the Gideon Club. My father showed up and we all went to his place. You went swimming if I remember correctly. Stone showed up." He is looking around the room curiously as he speaks.
If the Rider recalls the incident for which Dai refers, she makes no indication.
Dai says "Although, we met before that I think."
Lisle says, "Ah, the Baron. He's often very candid. Please, do sit down. You are in Amber, sir, in the house I share with my sister and brother." She sits on one of the old couches, while outside, beyond the window, the snow is thick and white. "I did go swimming, but what is your father's name?"
Pestilence wanders past a couch so that she might stand before a window. She looks out over the courtyards of Castle Amber.
Dai grins. "Brandon. But we met long before I even knew him to be my father. Amber. I have been here a few times. Actually, I was just here not long ago having a drink with Roxane and my brother in law." He takes a seat and eyes Pestilence. "You and Scott work things out?"
Alastor has arrived.
Lisle says, "Right. Brandon. I man I have admired from time to time. I knew he was involved in my m eeting you sometime." She sits on one of the couches. Outside the window its snows thickly.
Alastor gives a little moment of attention to the woman who shows him in, then looks around with a keen eye for the windows, the view outside.
Pestilence turns her head over her should looking back at the pair. She dips her chin in a single nod, responding to Dai's question, "In a mannor of speaking, yes. At least for the time being."
Lisle notes Alastor's arrival and looks quite surprised, blonde brows lifting, "Alastor Castle, bard of Amber returned at last."
Pestilence turns her gaze to the new arrival, still and empty.
Alastor gives Lisle a low bow, like that of a courtier perfectly at home.
Dai looks at Alastor and arches an eyebrow. "Well well. The harpist. Grandson of Sand or something like that I believe." As Lisle says his name he nods to himself. "That's the name. Alastor. Good to see you again." He smiles blandly at Pestilance. "Unc was being an idiot that day. I told so myself later."
Alastor looks at Dai, plainly surprised. "My how news travels," he says faintly, his gaze torn from Lisle.
Lisle looks quite surprised at Dai's news, both brows lifting even further as she looks at Alastor. She introduces, "Pestilence. This is Alastor Castle. This is Pestilence, and I assume you know Dai of the courts."
Alastor gives Pestilence a bow, Dai a nod of the head as he recovers his composure. "I've had the honour..."
Dai shrugs at Alastor. "I'm good like that. We spoke once about music. Had a race I believe."
Alastor smiles as if at memory and nods in agreement.
Lisle says, "What small worlds that Dai of the Courts and son of Brandon, should know Alastor Castle, son of Sand." Her voice holds the tremulous music of irony.
Alastor says "Smaller yet within the WEB, my lady."
Pestilence resumes her quiet stance beside the couch where the Princess sits, arms are crossed over her chest, casually.
Dai takes a sip of his beer. "I actually saw you in the WEB a while ago Alastor. Some trouble between Arashi and Nash. What was all that about?"
Pestilence's head turns slowly, regarding Dai, curious at his question.
Alastor stands nearby the door, unwilling to relinquish the chance of escape. "Arashi is going one way, Nash another - it seems there was some insult, but I heard little of it. Arashi carries a gun now."
Lisle asks, "Lord Nash of Cragvale?"
Pestilence's jaw works. Quiet.
Alastor says "Silver and purple and angles and dragons."
Dai says, "Yes I know. I was there when Spade gave that gun to Arashi. It seemed to be a little more than an insult. As a matter of fact, I can trace many recent troubles to that specific event." He shrugs to Lisle. "I only know him as Nash. He is a friend of mine."
Lisle says, "Alastor Castle, do sit down." And then Lisle does something she rarely does, which is frown, a fine line appearing between her brows, "Trash Spade, lord of pornography? fly of lowness?"
Alastor casts around and finds a seat where he can watch both Lisle and the snow. "I like them both," he says. "So I didn't ask questions."
Pestilence offers now, finally, "And Arashi his latest pet." She exhales. "I am not surprised."
Dai chuckles. "My cousin Arashi is now in tight with Joshua Spade. Mainly due to his friendship with Joshua's lady, Sarah." He nods to Alastor. "True. But you also glossed over what really happened." He grins. "Sorry, I am being rude of course."
Alastor shrugs. "I'm very nearly a bard. Glossing is my calling."
Lisle sounds aghast, "Joshua's _lady_? Sarah? Not Sarah with the ringlettes? Not Benedict's Sarah?"
Pestilence says, "The same it would seem"
Dai says, "Which is why history is not passed down through music, alas." He blinks. "Benedict's Sarah? I have no idea. Sarah is De'alundian. She's my brother inlaw's mother."
Alastor says "Ah, history is passed down by those who tell stories best."
Lisle pales. Not the pale of fear, but the pale of illness. "How time change. That she should lecture /me/ about befriending the Lord of Pornography, that it would make the family lose /faith/ in me. And now she's his," she has to pause to say, "...lady?"
Pestilence tilts her head down, regarding Lisle. There is sympathy there, it is a strange contrast to her tempered expression.
Dai sighs and sips his beer. "That'll teach me to open my big mouth, saying things I thought were common knowledge."
Lisle says, "I feel cursed to live in a time why my cousin is considered to be that man's woman." She shivers in revulsion.
Alastor eases his backpack off his back. "Consider her her own woman, Lisle."
Pestilence suggests, "It is common knowledge in some circles, Dai." Her attention remains on Lisle.
Lisle leans, pouring tea from a pot into a cup. It should be noted that the low table between the couches is heavily laden with tea things so richly crafted from delicate porceline that it fits this particularly location, in the palace. The pastries are artwork the size of a palm.
Dai shrugs to the Pest. "Doesn't matter. I'm sorry for upsetting you Princess. I thought you knew about it."
Lisle then stands, "Well I suppose I shall have to consider that." And to Dai, "I have been keeping my own company of late. I was bound to discover this news somehow."
Alastor considers standing for a moment, then hauls himself to his feet. "Are we to lose your company?"
Dai rises as Lisle does and nods. "I'm sure you would have my lady, but I am still sorry for putting it so bluntly. If I had known it would upset you......." he trails off.
Pestilence, not one to concern herself with timing, offers, "I believe she is pregnant by him, Lady."
Dai shakes his head and says quickly, "No she isn't."
Pestilence raises a brow, "Perhaps you believe the drival that she is pregnant by the shadow Erotic City itself."
Alastor gives Pestilence a shocked look himself.
Dai arches and eyebrow. "Yes I do as I have seen very good evidence of it. Also, she is no longer pregnant. She has given birth already."
Lisle doesn't appear to be leaving, she's only headed toward the window. She sits on the stone sill, holding the teacup. Lisle says, with quiet, elegant surprise, "Pregnant."
Alastor ambles over to the tea-tray and pours himself a cup, sitting down in the seat vacated by Lisle.
Pestilence spats, "Evidence. What is that, her word. Perhaps Spade's word. Both are worth little."
Lisle says, "The Lord of Pornography's word is worth nothing, his mind an empty wasteland of physical interest, and my cousin, Sarah, who I used to admire, is a slave to his torrid regard." Her posture is ramrod straight and formal, despite the earth-like clothing she wears, despite her air of youth. Indeed, the thickness of medieval English rolls every syllable.
Dai glares at Pestilence, his back straightening, looking very offended. He says, his voice dangerously quiet, "I think you know me a little better than that by now or should." He sets his beer down, his eyes never leaving Pestilence. After a moment, his eyes go distant.
Pestilence considers the Princess' litany with obvious interest, she nods, seemingly in agreement. To Dai she notes, "I kKnow you well enough, Dai. It is not your sincerity I doubt. Spade, however, has a certain knack for obfuscation. I would not doubt the evidence presented is evidence staged by the man himself. To what end is the question."
Lisle says, "His life is worthless, and so he holds other's lives worthless. There is probably nothing I can do for my stubborn cousin, but I warn you all to stay out of his way."
Dai mutters, "Hey... Castle... speaking... Alastor, and..."
Lisle, it must be said, looks terrilbly grave.
Alastor perks up a little at his name. "I don't spread news," he says as if in warning.
Dai mutters, "... your mother..."
Dai looks over to Lisle. "Stay out of his way?" He sounds amused. "Does anyone mind if my sister joins us for a bit?"
Pestilence steps away from the others and moves toward a window. Her attention looks out over the cold, snowy courtyard.
Lisle says, "Well, my sitting room is getting crowded, but we could adjourn to the main hall, downstairs."
Alastor says "I wished to ask you about a magical matter, but I can happily wait, milady. Well you know waiting on your pleasure is worthwhile."
Dai shrugs and looks away, holding his hand out.
Riva appears, grasping Dai's hand.
Lisle says, "I would be pleased to answer your question, Alastor Castle, if I can."
Riva kisses Dai's cheeck fondly as she steps through.
Pestilence feels a tingling sensation in the back of her mind. In a moment she establishes contact with Ryker.
To the image of Ryker, Pestilence intones in your mind, "Ryker."
Lisle's sitting room is not very large. Noting Riva, she pauses to say, "Well, Lady Riva, it is always a pleasure to see you.
Alastor pauses a moment and then says, "Where did you get my harpstrings?"
Lisle says, "However, since there are so many of us, I propose we adjourn to other, more comfortable quarters, which is to say, my house."
Lisle sets her teacup aside, reaching for a very slim stack of cards in her pocket. She answers Alastor, "Why, I found them."
Riva winces and gently reminds, "No lady, Highness. Please, just Riva or Captain. A pleasure to see you." she waddles back a couple of steps to stand beside Dai.
Dai blinks as his eyes refocus. He smiles at the kiss. "Hey sis."
The image of Ryker squints at you, violet eyes clear, lacking any red. An older, more familiar expression of guarded curiosity and silent judging. A grunt, then, and faintest frown. Behind him a wide, sandy river, upon his casual clothing.
Alastor ahs, face clearing. He looks to Riva and gives her a slight bow.
Pestilence's attention is intent as she peers out a large pane window.
Riva nods absently to Pestilence, a hint of curiousity flitting over her features before she glances to Alastor.
Lisle says, "Come, before we cause the guards problems, they will wonder at the noise."She studies a card, offering her hand into the open.
To the image of Ryker, Pestilence says "Your hand, Ryker."
Alastor stands, fetches a back-pack from beside a different chair, and walks over to Lisle.
The image of Ryker instead states, flat, "I'm interested in Yosannah."
To the image of Ryker, Pestilence says "Of course you are." She intones matter of factly. "You've caused us a great deal of irritation as of late. I am here to safeguard our interests - though I am weary and would rather slumber. Summon me and she will surface."
The image of Ryker looks unconcerned. "No pain no gain. But I'd prefer you blamed your 'brethren'." His jaw tightens some, gaze scanning over you, and then he extends his right hand.
"Princess, I must take my leave for now, with your permission. I am needed elsewhere."
Lisle says, "Very well. I hope we can speak later." Lisle is actually waiting, of course, for Pestilence to exit, as any paranoid amberite would do.
The image of Ryker offers to pull you through.
Pestilence dips her chin in a nod. She returns her attention out the window. She reaches out for an unseen hand and her form begins to shimmer, "Be well, lady..."
Amber: The Pink and Sable Sands...
You stand upon the pink and sable sands on the shore of the great sea of Amber. To the north, mighty Kolvir, which has held Amber like a mother her child for all of time, looms into the clouds, the city like a bright jewel upon its breast. Perhaps a score of miles to the south of Kolvir lies Faiella-bionin, the stairway to Rebma, marked by a cairn of stones. You regard the wide, sloping, tiger beach with its sudden twists and rises of coral, orange, pink, and red, and its abrubt caches of shells, driftwood, and small polished stones; and the sea beyond: rising and falling, splashing softly, all gold and blue and royal purple, and casting forth its life-song breezes like benedictions. The color of the sea is very rich -- thick as paint, textured like a piece of cloth. In the distance you can spy the lighthouse of Cabra, welcoming her ships home.
Ryker is a middle aged man sporting a wild mane of black, a five o'clock shadow, and faint to moderate wrinkles. Tanned skin, generous lips, and a strong jaw. The build of a working man and the scars of a fighting man. A loose, long-sleeved linen shirt casually contours his frame. The cloth is of a hemp hue; notch collar, unbuttoned to reveal the brazen span of his neck, is stitched with an intricate wreath of maroon thistles. His pants too are linen, low rise, the hems leisurely rolled up above bare feet. Around his old violet and gold eyes, a red hue surrounds the iris. He is a short ways inland, away from the ocean itself. He wears a sling on his left arm, and a heavy bandage on his right pectoral. He has another bandage on his left shoulder.
Pestilence appears beside Ryker, clasping his hand. Her skin is cool and dry to the touch. She slides her fingers from his so long as he permits and takes in his damaged form.
Ryker steps back, letting the hand go, his own curling into a loose, casual fist. He seems faintly wary, and though wounded, he appears rested. There is a a sword and gun on a nearby rock.
Pestilence inquires, "Magnus?" Her gaze slides to the items resting atop the rock.
Ryker snorts. Disdain. "Please." He doesn't look at his weapons, not needing to. "Joshua. A draw." He waits for Yosannah, sniffing once, patience moderate but ebbing.
When the woman speaks her voice is a multi-tonal echo. Yosannah's a soft familiar tenor behind a rasp that is the Rider who shares her form, "You confronted the man. Curious. Well then, I will leave you to yourselves..." In this moment her gaze becomes clear, green almond eyes blinking, as if adjusting to the light...
Yosannah inhales slowly and exhales audibly. And then, "What are we doing here, Ryker?"
Ryker's flat expression eases up, and he moves to sit in the sandy bank of a river that flows into Amber's ocean. Just a few steps. "We're talking."
She rolls her head, stretching. As if she might have just woken. For a moment she looks down at her own figure. Resigned she follows after him and sets herself beside him, hands propped behind her and legs outstretched, "You okay. Your arm..."
Ryker explains again, "Joshua. It was a draw."
Yosannah nods, "So I heard. I'm not completely deaf in here you know."
Ryker fights a shrug. "I do now. I'll live - fortunately the ones from the Church battle were nearly healed. Only minor overlapping."
Yosannah wets her lips and quickly turns her attention away from the man, her stare lingering a moment long, "Fortunately. What are you saying. What you've done was not your wish."
A sound rumbles in his throat, answer briefly mulled over. Ryker murmurs, "Hard to say. Grey area."
"You know, I don't think they chose us because we're easily manipulated. We know that's not the case." She considers, "Though, I thought that for a long time. I think it picked me because we are like souls." She digs her heel into the sand, "On some basic level."
Ryker's nose wrinkles. "I somehow doubt War saw a like soul in me during the floating fifteen seconds after he was freed from Arion." He states, "I find it more likely he saw me heavily armed and armored, and went with the best guess." Adding, "Lucky as it was."
Yosannah suggests, "Maybe, maybe not. Maybe that was enough. He seems to be of a simple mind. Rather like Famine... or Hunger... or whatever it calls itself, I dunno. Though I wonder if this is really what you wanted to talk about."
Ryker admits, his tone slightly quieter than usual, "Not particularly."
Yosannah slides her gaze in his direction, curious. Waiting.
Ryker shrugs just his right shoulder very slightly, opposite you. "Admittedly, I don't really know what I want to talk about. At first chance, I changed and came here for some peace and distance from Chaos. To think."
Ryker comments, "My first thought was to trump you. So I haven't really gotten done with my second yet."
A tiny smile creeps over her lips and, perhaps, a slight blush to her cheeks. "Oh. Well. If it's any consolation, I've been doing my damnedest to stay as far from that side of things as I can since the Arion situation." She gnaws at her lower lip.
Ryker explains, "I ... err, 'we', as War prefers, haven't been managing well on that regard."
"So I have noticed." The considers for a long moment, "This the first time you've been," she searches for the correct word, "yourself."
Ryker says "Since freeing Arion? No, it laid low a month or so. Exploring, I suspect. We fought awhile, then, something of a stalemate." He frowns, disgruntled. "And then some back and forth with control, and now ... it's difficult to say. At least a few weeks passed, I gather."
Yosannah offers, "That seems to be a general theme, yeah." She drops back, laying on the bank, knees propped up and gazes skyward, "You know, Ryker. I can't help you. But I'm sorry that this happened. I dunno, I guess I figured that once we found Arion, things would return to the way they were. I didn't expect this. You. Nash."
Ryker clears his throat, enjoying a deeper breath then and staring down the river. Listening. Before long, "I heard someone say once, in some Shadow, no good deed goes unpunished. Honestly, I can even remember why I enlisted for that task, freeing Arion. Some small, soft corner of me nostalgic for an old, familiar face? We were never even friends. Because he was Ada's brother?" He scowls hard, some anger surfacing. "Hells. Nobody but me was there to rescue /my/ sister...." He drones off at that, generous lips tight and twisted.
She peers up, listening quietly to his litany and taking note of his anger. "I..." She begins but no further sound is forthcoming. "She was fond of you. Ada. Pined over you quite a bit. I'm not so certain I understand your reaction now at the thought of she and her brother."
Ryker waves his right a bit. Vague. Quickly calming. "I know she was. A remarkable woman, but a terrible partner." He states, "I should have never broken my chastity for her."
Yosannah blinks at this last remark, digesting it. "Umm. Oh."
Ryker doesn't pay much mind, eyes on the river. "Enough about me. I'll deal, like I always have." He glances over. "How are you faring?"
It takes her a moment to focus her mind on the sudden change of topic, "I uh... I have taken some of the brunt of uh... the drama you've caused over the last few weeks. And from both sides of the issue. Your friend, Scott, for example, accosted me the other day. Or tried to anyway."
Ryker glances down at himself. "I've taken some too. Scott, hmm? One of my bigger fans. What was the problem?"
Yosannah smiles, her gaze following his own. "Right. Uh, Scott. Said he hated us. Them. And what they have done to you, his friend. He worked himself into a tizzy and," she shrugs. "There you go."
Ryker ahs lightly.
Yosannah offers, in the event that it matters, "I didn't hurt him." She mutters, "... though maybe I shouldah."
"Generous of you." He rubs at the stubble on his jaw. Ryker muses, "I wonder if I'll be able to manage the same next he sees me. His reaction is to be expected, though. Obviously not a unique one."
"Nope."
Ryker asks, "Anything else going on? Nash is still in one piece, yes?" He remarks with a little attitude, "/He/ sure seems to be getting along with his new partner."
She chuckles at the mention of Nash, lifts herself from the ground and brushes at her pants when she stands. "Who, the shifter friend of his."
Ryker says "I mean Famine." He looks, and follows suit, though leaves the sand on him alone.
Yosannah crosses her arms over her chest and nods, "Not much different from your experience. Rocky start. But Nash has this bizarre obsession with that shifter friend of his who held famine for a while. Famine has always had a history of latching on to the strange ones." She taps at her temple with her finger to demonstrate her point, "The fact that it sought out Nash doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Or the fact that Nash is rather content with the arrangement for that matter."
Ryker admits with a slight furrow, "I guess not. Cragvales." Wets his lips. A little hesitation, and then, direct as usual, "Spoken with Damen recently?"
Yosannah exhales a gust of air through her cheeks causing them to billow, "No." She swallows, "Not since... Well, Stone talked to you about that, so." She shrugs her shoulders, "I've been doing my own thing as far as that goes and that's all I can do." She nods as if this information should suffice.
Ryker nods slightly, but fishes deeper. "I need a place he knew of. Did he ever mention a crystal blue cave to you?"
Yosannah recalls, "Yeah, actually." And then, "No wait. Maybe that was Corey."
Ryker mms. "Corey? Never heard of him."
Yosannah corrects, "Sorry, Merlin. From Sawall in the Courts."
Ryker says "Him I've heard of, though he keeps a lower profile than I would expect." His right hand adjusts his sling, mind thinking behind his eyes. "Damen isn't responding to trumps. A shame - I could use him."
Yosannah reflects, "Yeah, so could I. But anyway."
Ryker moves towards his sword and gun. "Yeah, I should be moving Shadows. I expect at least Sarah has searched Shadow for me. Probably Magnus as well."
She nods and then offers, "You want me to stay with you for a couple days. Sides, if they are still looking for you, they're probably still looking for the rest of us."
Ryker considers for only a second. "Thank you, but no. But if you have a trump of that new spot of Nash's? I didn't get one when I had the chance."
Yosannah appears dejected for a moment but answers with a shake of her head, "No. Though, if you're familiar with Elbridge, it's a bit North of the town on the way to Gideon. You know the road?"
Ryker nods slightly.
"You'll find it easy enough. And you'll be safe from Magnus there, at least."
Ryker says "So Nash implied." He considers saying something .... but instead, nods. "You better take off. I'll ... one of us, I imagine, we'll get in touch soon. There's more to discuss I'm sure."
Yosannah nods, lowers her gaze and takes a step or two in retreat. Turning she tucks her hands in her pockets and moves forward...