Private Tales Arrant Ambition

[Medja]

Annuakat was not the Vizier of Stars preferred place of dwelling by a long shot, but it was the seat of the throne of the Empire. As future regent, Medja had relocated herself, many of her aides, and a significant portion of her resources to the Imperial Palace in Annuakat. There was much to do in preparation for such a grand ascendancy, the least of which right now was the simple remodeling of a portion of the palace to suit her needs. Where once the office of the Captain of the Immortals was among a number of other relatively superfluous rooms, now a wing dedicated to Medja's faithful Hands stood. She'd need to surround herself with those she knew were loyal going forward, lest she wanted another blade stuck in her heart...

Unrest among the citizenry was something Medja wanted to avoid with this transition as much as possible. She had discussed as much with the Abtati priestess, Kiia, at the meeting she'd called in Ragash only days prior. To that end, she'd invited the priestess to the Imperial Palace to discuss matters further. The woman had seemed the shrewd, enterprising type, one who likely had much in common with her, in fact. Playing with Kiia would be a dangerous game, but an exciting one; on one hand, a likeminded soul was a potential rival, someone who'd attempt to take her place, as Medja had learned many times in her long life. On the other, an ally of her caliber would prove an extremely potent one, and the exhilaration of keeping such a potential threat so close was something that Medja could hardly deny herself.

So it was that Medja stood in the once-office of Uvogin Hill, observing the Gardens of Narmaka that grew below. They were, perhaps, the one thing that Annuakat had that stood above Ragash in their beauty. While her home had grand gardens of its own, none of them quite compared to what the people of this grand ziggurat had put together. She observed, silently, and waited for her guest of the day to arrive. Soon they'd discuss what plans each of them had in store...and the anticipation made the wait worthwhile.

______________________
Kiia Sidra

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia always found it amusing what the words "Amol Kalit" conjured in the minds of foreigners. Dust and stone, sand and blistering sunlight. Yes, the desert was harsh and barren in places, but there were so many wonderful pockets of life within it. The lethality of the open dunes made the oases shine all the brighter.

Annuakat was one such oasis. Desert winds brought fertile sands and the ocean gifted humid air to make a cocktail that exploded into life. It was no surprise at all that people flocked here, and the city's history was almost as rich as the palaces it contained.

It had been years, decades perhaps, since Kiia had been here, although it may as well have been a different life entirely. She had been a commoner then, a nomadic voice of Abtatu making what life she could. She had not come anywhere near the palaces that she now stepped through.

It had not been easy to get here, and she felt that truth with every aching step. She had tried for months to heal her blighted leg, but the magic that had savaged it was ancient, angry, and enigmatic. She had managed to regain a fair amount of strength, and it had gone from a withered husk to a more natural shape. It was still thinner than her left leg, and scars like cracked desert clay ran across the once-smooth flesh. Her joints still ached when she moved.

She clung to the pain. Pain was a teacher. She could tell how close she was to the fire, now, by the heat of the flame. Her grinding bones kept her focused. After all, if she had sacrificed this much, she couldn't very well stop now.

She was shown in to the office, although the title hardly seemed worthy of such a room. The doors shut heavily behind her.

"Empress Regent," she addressed the sorceress in a voice of soft shifting sands. She took her time closing the distance between them, her passage only marked by the hard clack of her golden cane. "The Capital suits you, although Ragash is surely lacking for your absence."

She joined Medja on the balcony, overlooking the vast gardens. "Beautiful."

 

[Medja]

Leaning on the rail of the office's balcony, Kiia's approach was something Medja was able to sense through the palace's floors and walls, her geomantic magics allowing her to feel the little vibrations the priestess made as she walked and tapped her cane. It was odd; perhaps a year ago Medja had been the one in the halls, determining the palace's layout with that same technique, leading her to this same spot. It was a strangely nostalgic feeling.

The priestess pain was identifiable just through her slightly hobbling gait. Medja had barely been conscious at the time, but she recalled the day that Gerra had turned his ire against them both, and the catastrophic consequences he had wrought on Kiia's body. The still-aching scar on her own chest was a constant reminder of what rage and ego unchecked could do to a mind, a lesson she would not soon forget. While she did not experience the lingering agony that she imagined the priestess now did, she still felt she could empathize with her. Perhaps that alone would enable a bond of sorts.

"Empress Regent,"

The Vizier hadn't acknowledged Kiia's approach in any visible way until she spoke up. The title evoked a little spark of joyful anticipation in her, and despite herself she felt a little grin crease her lips.
"Hello again, High Priestess," Medja turned her head to acknowledge her guest, bowing her head politely and offering a slight smile. "It is still 'Vizier' for now, but I do hope we can change that soon, you and I."

"Beautiful."

Medja's focus was no longer on the gardens below, instead taking the opportunity to appreciate the Abtati's form, elegant and lithe as ever. She knew little about Kiia, but understood that she was a kindred spirit. Medja wondered if she had similarly pulled herself up from nothing and into greatness, and the Vizier couldn't help but feel a spot of admiration for one so driven.
"...it certainly is." She smugged momentarily; let no one ever say that Medja of Ragash did not have an eye for quality. As quickly as she'd allowed herself the brief moment of indulgence, she was back to business, turning to lean comfortably against the balcony's rail in her usual hovering manner. "I'm certain you're aware by now of why I invited you here...I thought it might be prudent that we speak of days to come, away from the judgmental ears of the rest of the Divan."

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Now it was Kiia's turn to smile. A thin curve of her lips that crossed up to her eyes and made the topaz sparkle just so in the orange light. There was no need to hide her feelings here, not with just the two of them. She, too, enjoyed the pretend title Medja had used to address her, and likewise vowed to make it real as soon as possible. It had been a while since she'd delved into an intricate plan... it was exciting.

She felt the sorceress' eyes on her, not an unwelcome feeling by any means. Medja's power was palpable through her stance, her voice, and her history. The ability to take without hesitation. Depending on what was in it for her, Kiia was inclined to give.

But now was a time for words, not actions, not just yet. Careful planning before setting the first step on the path.

"I'm certain you're aware by now of why I invited you here...I thought it might be prudent that we speak of days to come, away from the judgmental ears of the rest of the Divan."

"Oh yes," she turned to face the vizier and admire her silhouette in the stark sunlight. "And I am grateful for it. The Divan are fine and loyal people, but such loyalty can make one... immobile... in times of need." She did not address Ashuanar directly, but it was no secret that he had the greatest objection to the priestess' involvement.

"And we have need of you now," she continued, "the people already feel the Emperor's absence. I have sensed growing agitation in my congregations, the petty worries of a people without direction." She let her words linger in Medja's ears, and though her eyes wished to linger on her figure, she kept them fixed firmly on Medja's own emerald gems.

"You are well liked by those who know your name and deeds, but I am afraid too many are unfamiliar," she shrugged, "The common man has enough attention for one demigod at a time, it would seem." A sly grin, and the first flash of alabaster teeth behind her dark lips. "But I believe I have devised a plan for them to see you for the goddess you deserve to be."

 

[Medja]

"The Divan are fine and loyal people, but such loyalty can make one... immobile... in times of need."

Ever an issue among the Divan, though loyalty was only half the problem. The other half was lack of presence. Noelani's absenteeism was excusable; she was the grand admiral of the Imperial navy, the lauded Vizier of Waters. Her presence belonged on the sea, leading her fleet from the front. Aivrid, however...that dragon had his own list of priorities. Medja had always known that he had been made a Vizier not for virtue, but for might. It was just an odd choice to give him control over the treasury...

Ashuanar was a different story entirely. Yes, he was supremely loyal to Gerra, but Medja had seen his faith shaken before her own eyes that day back in the Drakormir Wastes, and she saw that tickle of doubt again every time his eyes scanned over the scar the Emperor had left on her chest. Even in spite of that loyalty and the busy occupation of being the grand general of the Imperial army, Ashuanar always found the time to spare for Medja, and that would forever endear him to her.

Still, Medja nodded in concurrence. The Divan was terribly slow to act for a number of different reasons. Sometimes it was best to circumvent the process, and now that Medja had received their blessing, she had all the right to do so.

"And we have need of you now,"

"But I believe I have devised a plan for them to see you for the goddess you deserve to be."

This one certainly knew how to tickle an ear. Her game was, of course, not beyond Medja's understanding; it was the very same game she was playing, after all. As the two women locked their gazes, however, Medja couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement, one she hadn't experienced in many, many years. Not since her days climbing the proverbial ladder in Ragash's criminal underworld, specifically. It felt like she was standing in a cage with a tiger...exhilarating. Her gaze narrowed and her lips quirked into a coy half-smile.

"Some grandiose display of power, yes? One to rival that of Gerra of Molthal's famous walk-through-fire? What palatial performance would you have me put on?" As she playfully replied she shifted herself to a sideways lounging position, facing Kiia and still floating in midair. It was an all too casual display of power, one hand trailing down her own side while she briefly inspected the nails of the other.
"I'm all too eager to hear what you have in mind, dear priestess."

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia felt the proverbial tiger in the room as well, like she was gazing at it through a reed-woven fence. It gave the appearance of safety, but at any time the predator could break down the barrier and claim its kill. Medja was no fool, she knew what Kiia wanted, and the priestess knew her brazen flirtations with power would only be tolerated so long as she proved herself useful.

"Some grandiose display of power, yes?"

“Oh, but of course!” Kiia answered with obvious amusement. “Subtlety will do us no favors, here.” She doubted she would ever get used to the woman floating all the time, nor how she could make full body wrappings so… alluring.

She corrected her eyes’ wanderings and steeled the softness that had appeared in them for but a moment. “My plan is simple, Empress Regent. Who commands the awe of our people even better than Gerra himself? Who granted victory at Ninegal, and secured Gerra’s seat of power? It was Aivrid, the great black dragon himself. He must be your trial.”

She shifted her weight, her leg had grown uncomfortable, but she continued unimpeded. “At your discretion, summon him. Have him appear in his true shape for all to see. Let them see you, Empress, take the full fury of his flame and survive, and they will know you are chosen by dragons and gods alike.”

She did not correct her slip of the tongue in regards to Medja’s title, but she paused here.

 

[Medja]

While the flattery of titles and wandering eyes were not lost on Medja--nor unwanted--Kiia's particular idea that came along with it left a lot to be desired in her mind. She pulled herself into a more serious, upright position, then held her hand to her chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm...flame, indeed." She pondered aloud. It was a perfectly viable plan, perhaps even a simple one, but it didn't sit right with the Vizier. "While I'm certain that there are a number of ways I could deceive the people into believing that I am capable of such levels of inflammability as our dear Emperor, fire was by all means his domain...and that of his once and former right hand, Maho Sparhawk."

Medja couldn't help but sour slightly even at the name of that man. Expired or not, he was a blight on her existence and she couldn't help but feel a bit glad for his passing, even more so that his death was what lead to Gerra setting all of this in motion to begin with.
"As for Aivrid, I trust only that he would likely attempt some means of sabotaging such a show. Whether that would end in be being reduced to ashes or not, I could not say. But..." Medja's hand again brushed against the ragged scar over her heart, a tinge of anger simmering within. "There is another dragon I have in mind when I think of godlike displays of power."

The Vizier's gaze grew distant as she turned to look out over the gardens, recalling that day in the desert that felt like an eternity ago by now.
"You were there, Kiia, when Drakormir rose. You saw and felt him shake and sunder the earth apart like it was nothing. You were damaged that day, the same as me, except..." Her fists clenched and she began to grind the knuckles of one hand into the railing of the balcony. "Even now, though it holds no true power anymore, that foul monster's blood still courses with mine. I hate it. I hate him."

Determination burned in the sorceress' heart as she again shifted her gaze onto Kiia.
"I would use my own forte to display my worthiness to the throne. I would seal the wound Drakormir left in the earth, forever erasing his mark on Arethil's existence."

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia could not help but be disappointed by Medja's dismissal of her plan. In fact, a small flare of anger bristled in her breast, though she made certain that none of this would reach her face. She was a proud woman, and cunning, and she did not often receive 'no' for an answer.

But she closed her eyes and nodded, matching Medja's gaze over the beautiful gardens. The Vizier of Stars was right, and as much as it pained Kiia to admit, her idea was better.

"Of course, Regent, it is your title to claim, after all."

Kiia had been there when Drakormir rose, and she would recall the memory in lucid detail forever. The main emotion that though evoked was fear, but Medja radiated fury. Kiia could taste the hatred coming off of her in waves... and it was delicious. She found her hand wandering along the balcony towards Medja, a secret and subconscious longing to feel that terrible, ancient power for just a moment, but she stilled herself. She had already stolen from Medja's soul once, she doubted she would be permitted to do so again.

"Such a feat would indeed prove your right to rule," even to me, she thought in secret. Then a pause, and more delicate follow up: "Can... such a thing be done?"

Kiia's idea had simply involved enlisting Aivrid's help and devising a clever deception to avoid Medja's untimely demise. Sealing the scar could not be achieved with smoke and mirrors, the Empress Regent would actually have to do it. She knew Medja to be powerful but... could she knit a wound on the face of Arethil itself?

This is how it was to be, then. Kiia was not willing to turn back after coming so far. "Whatever you require of me, your excellence, I will provide."

 

[Medja]

"Can... such a thing be done?"

An excellent question. If it were an easy matter, Medja likely would have done it already. The simple answer was 'Yes, but it would take many years of gradual progress.' That, however, would in no way be the gross display of might that the sorceress now sought to accomplish.
"My teacher, Aramekh, the First Great Sage of Geomancy, was said to be able to reshape continents at will. If the tales are to be believed, sealing this fault should be possible. But..."
But Aramekh was practically a god himself. Even his avatar, Medja's trump card and merely a vestige of what the real Great Sage once was, was itself far stronger than she was. This would not be an easy feat by any stretch of the imagination.

Likely the biggest issue would be the price of paying for the magic. Medja recalled what happened to Gerra for casting a simple, albeit very potent, death spell on Drakormir. Almost half of the rings of Amon-Thun were rendered unusable, and the half-giant lost his sense of taste for his trouble. Still, Medja had an idea of what could be used to facilitate the ordeal.
"There would need to be much preparation. The cost of weaving such a spell, even for me, would be exorbitant. I still believe your aid will be crucial in this matter, Kiia." Medja postulated before turning to the priestess with a sly smile and gently running her hand beneath the woman's jaw and towards her chin. The Vizier recalled the sensation of Kiia pulling at her life force, seemingly by mere proximity, and wondered what the nature of her abilities was. Would she drain Medja merely for touching her?

She let the tips of her fingers slide off Kiia's chin, letting a bit of tension hang in the air.
"Though I do not fully know what you are capable of."

 

[Kiia Sidra]

The name Aramekh was not familiar to her, although it did wriggle at the back of her thoughts like a snake in the reeds. If she had heard the name before it was long ago, and likely mentioned in passing. But surely she would have heard of such a man if his powers were as Medja described? Mystery atop mystery.

Kiia had restrained herself from touching the sorceress, but Medja had no such boundaries, it seemed. Her lips parted ever so slightly at the gentle yet powerful gesture. Bold to say the least, but rulers didn't need permission. Medja would not feel her lifeforce draining from her fingertips. Taking energy required conscious effort and Kiia didn't dare to take a taste. How quickly could those fingers drop from her jawline to her neck? How much would she care if they did?

She blinked and reorganized her thoughts when Medja's hand drifted away. She had not expected the Vizier to be so... stimulating. Eager to retain at least some control of the situation, Kiia answered her question.

"Though I do not fully know what you are capable of."

"Then I will demonstrate." She lowered a hand over the edge of the balcony to where a creeping vine had taken hold. She inhaled gently, and as she drew air into her lungs the vine beneath her fingers began to wither, shrink, and blacken. The dark scar crept steadily down the plant until she released it, and she lifted her other hand to hover just at Medja's shoulder. "May I?"

She pressed her palm to the floating woman, and exhaled a steady, focused breath. The life that she had stolen from the vine traveled through her and radiated out from her fingertips and into Medja's being. If Medja were typical, she may feel warmth, a slight tingling, and a swell of energy as her body accepted the gift.

"I am a conduit," Kiia explained after watching for her Empress' reaction. "The life of this world may move freely through me. I can take, I can store, and I can give... but I cannot create." Kiia did not routinely divulge the nature of her gifts. An air of mystery did well to build reverence and trust from her followers, but Medja had need of specifics, and Kiia did not think it wise to deny her.

 

[Medja]

Fascinating. Positively fascinating. Medja watched, captivated, as Kiia displayed her ability. Her skin bristled at the woman's touch, her elegant fingers more than welcome upon Medja's skin. The rush of vitality she felt when the priestess transferred the life force of the plant into her hand sent a chain reaction of possibilities spiraling through her head. It was a meager thing, especially compared to the spell Medja used to sustain her own youth and health, but it was still tangible...and if Kiia could do so much with so little, Medja could only imagine what she'd be able to do with more.

"How wonderful..." She breathed, a storm of possibilities flooding her as she envisioned what futures their partnership could bring. "This act of sealing Drakormir's scar upon the world will take a great toll on me. If you can feed energy to me, however, it might not be quite as difficult as I thought."

Of course, now Medja was certain of what Kiia had attempted to do to her before. A forgivable offense, given the circumstances, but it still begged a few questions. If she was capable of taking and storing, then she was likely capable of sustaining herself just as Medja did.
"Hmm...I wonder, how long have you been up to this?" The Vizier mused before hoisting herself up to set on the balcony. "Ahh, but I've had my turn asking questions, and you've more than satisfied me with your answer. In my line of work, information is often exchanged in kind. So..."

She ran a hand along the contour of one of her legs, then folded her legs over each other neatly. Cocking her head in curiosity, she grinned and offered Kiia an opportunity:
"What would you like to know, High Priestess?"

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia was pleased with Medja's reaction. To have an impact on one so powerful was affirming, and the intimacy of touching another's lifeforce was not to be ignored. Though she did not linger, and did not wade deeper into the pools that ebbed through the sorceress, she got the sense that whatever energy she had given was but drops in a vast sea. "A repayment, of sorts," she said with an incline of her head and knowing smile.

To act as a siphon to Medja had crossed her mind when the ambitious plan was revealed, but where would she herself find such power? The amount needed to move the continent itself could not possibly be stored within her, not all at once. She gazed out over the lush gardens in the palace. Would all of that life even be enough? How much of it would be available for Medja's magic, and how much would be lost to her physical form?

The priestess' question wasn't one she was asked often. Before she could answer, however, an opportunity was granted to her, one so vast that she had no idea how to take advantage.

What did one choose, when an infinite bounty was laid before them? A few questions burned to the forefront of her mind, some far too dangerous to entertain now.

Medja had asked about her magic, to return the question seemed appropriate. Still, her heart beat quicker when she spoke.

"When the spear struck you, you should have died," she said the words plainly, as if she were discussing the weather. "I touched the life within you, and I know what dying feels like. Yet you did not. The spear was pulled from your heart and you live. I hope I do not intrude, but it is a natural curiosity to wonder at how."

 

[Medja]

Straight to the point, this one. A shrewd choice, nonetheless. Medja was not without her secrets, and very few indeed knew of the exact nature of her magic. Surprisingly few had questioned exactly what had happened when Gerra had struck her down all those months ago, perhaps out of fear or respect. While Medja did not trust Kiia anywhere near enough to reveal everything, she did promise to answer any one question...and the one she chose was quite the valuable one. She'd have to pick her words carefully.

"Sage Aramekh's mastery of the art of geomancy allowed him to channel his magic into spells that exceeded the normal limits of the craft." Medja began to expound, drawing a few pebbles that sat about between her hands, levitating them in front of her as if they were a teaching aid. "One such spell was one that allowed him to draw life energy out of the earth itself and into the body, allowing one to sustain their vitality beyond what is natural."

Medja drew the pebbles into a sphere as she spoke, carefully slotting each one into a comfortable place next to its neighbors.
"Wounds are healed at a rapid pace. Youthful vigor is restored. The mind is kept brilliantly keen. Since I acquired the knowledge and ability to cast it I've kept it as a contingent in case I am grievously wounded, but such an incredible spell is not without dire consequences." The sorceress locked eyes with Kiia as she continued to manipulate her orb of stones, rotating it slowly as she explained. "The earth in a large radius around the spot that I siphoned from was rendered utterly useless. While yes, it was but desolate desert already, the damage I have caused to it goes much deeper than what you may realize."

One of the pebbles was pulled free from the sphere and as it floated away Medja reduced it to sand, scattering it to the wind.
"That land has been robbed of its destiny for all time; where once it may have eventually become fertile, now it never can. All that inhabits its space will wither and die. It is a permanent wound upon Arethil." One by one, more pebbles were pulled from the sphere and disintegrated of their own accord, puncturing ever increasing holes in the little globe that Medja had formed.
"I did not die because I chose not to, but each time I make that choice a piece of Arethil dies on my behalf. That is why I keep the Sage's knowledge to myself: if others got hold of it, our world would be rendered lifeless in but a few decades."

The entire sphere scattered now, and Medja's arms fell quietly back to her sides. A few moments passed in somber silence as the sorceress finished both explanation and display before she blinked at Kiia and gave her a knowing smile. She had imparted dire knowledge to the priestess, though not nearly the entire story. Nonetheless, she was sure she'd given away everything that Kiia could've hoped to gain from such a query, and she watched carefully to study the woman's reaction.

 

[Kiia Sidra]

She had expected something extraordinary. She had expected something miraculous. But she hadn't expected that. Medja clearly understood the implications of what she had just told the priestess, and quite frankly Kiia was surprised that she had said as much as she had.

The ability to make life from stone and earth alone was by it self unheard of, but the utter blighting of the land for eternity as a consequence? Horrifying. Kiia immediately agreed with the Vizier that such power should not be made available to everyone, if it should even be available to anyone. A shiver wormed its way up her spine as she worked through in her mind how cataclysmically powerful her newest patron was. Yet here she was, floating mere feet from her. A goddess of air and sand wrapped in plain linen. Closing Drakormir's scar felt a hair more feasible.

She made no attempt to hide her emotions from her face, not this time. Perhaps Medja would forgive such an intrusion if Kiia made it plain she understood the consequences. At the end of the lesson, Kiia nodded slowly, casting her eyes from Medja's emerald gaze to the equally green gardens, and then back again.

"Thank you, Regent, for trusting me with that." A pause, and an off-kilter smirk as she raised her eyebrows in a rare instance of genuine admiration. "I suspect I am much younger than you. While I have wondered at my own capacity for longevity, I am afraid my body tells no lies."

The words in anyone else's mouth may have been insulting, but the way she spoke them was quite the opposite. She revered the timelessness that Medja possessed, and her own youth was not something to be celebrated or protected. Youth was a weakness and an admission of inexperience that she could not escape.

She turned and set her elbows to the railing, leaning out over the fragrant gardens. The wind had shifted, and it brought sweet scents and humid air from without. "Such a thing will require practice. I should like to start small, determine how much life I can channel to you safely, and for how long. I suspect we will both need to... acclimate to it."

 

[Medja]

"Thank you, Regent, for trusting me with that."

Medja simpered in return, pleased with Kiia's reaction to the information the sorceress had shared with her. It was an exceedingly rare occurrence for Medja to grant such knowledge to another person, especially one as fresh into her life as the priestess was. Knowledge was a powerful weapon, one that could be easily turned upon its wielder if it fell into the wrong hands.

"I suspect I am much younger than you. While I have wondered at my own capacity for longevity, I am afraid my body tells no lies."

That, however, was somewhat surprising. Abtati were, of course, a much longer lived species than the terribly ephemeral human race was. She was almost envious: for a human to maintain his or her youth for a fraction of the time an elf could it took reality-defying magic. Just further proof that Arethil was not a world that was created to be fair by any stretch of the imagination.
"Indeed? I had presumed that you might sustain yourself in a similar capacity to myself. You mean to say that your beauty is natural? Mmm..." Medja mused, once again soaking in the view of her hieratic companion.

The sorceress let the breeze wash over her hair and wispy robes swaying with its advent. Medja had never been one for modesty; she was more than aware of her appearance, and she dressed to accentuate and distract rather than to hide what she had. After all, there were many advantages to be gained from capitalizing on such things, and she had done so very intentionally.

I suspect we will both need to... acclimate to it."

"Do tell me priestess..." She slid closer, allowing the skin of their arms to brush against each other as they both leaned over the balcony. She playfully bit her lower lip, ever enjoying the chance to play these little games. "...what might be involved in such 'acclimation?'"

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia‘s eyes wandered. It was only a moment, but it was not hidden. With Medja so close to her it was difficult to keep her gaze fixed. The emerald eyes were as intimidating as they were captivating, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to look at them or break from their stare. A quick look down to the figure below stirred different emotions entirely.

She wasn’t used to being flustered, but her cheeks felt warm at Medja’s touch. Her heartbeat, normally as unflappable as a metronome, found itself stuttering. Was that sweet aroma from the garden or an exotic perfume?

“Well...” she began, a placeholder word to steady her tongue. “...I must acquaint myself with your unique lifeforce.” She leaned in to the contact and let the back of her hand graze over Medja’s forearm. It was softer than the finest silk. “Feel its ebb and flow...” She sent a small package of energy through the touch of skin, then just as quickly recalled half as much. Medja may feel a tingle, perhaps warmth at its arrival, and a brisk coolness at its removal.

“Strong emotion can bring out a lifeforce,” She brought pale topaz eyes back to meet the emeralds, feeling emboldened for a moment, and very slowly lifted a hand to Medja’s cheek. Would the sorceress permit so intimate a gesture? “Is there anything here that excites you, Empress?”

 

[Medja]

Briefly, Medja continued to revel in Kiia's squirming beneath her gaze. As she so often did with so many, she took in the changes in Kiia's body language, the wandering eyes and slight change in breathing. Oh how she adored these moments, knowing that her company was nearly wrapped around her finger. It certainly didn't hurt that Kiia's visage was a particularly enrapturing one...those sleek features, the intricate and elegant tattoos that marked her face, her own vibrant, amber eyes. However, Medja was perhaps not quite as in control as she liked to believe.

At first Medja smiled at the priestess's caress, elated to feel the velvety touch of the other woman. She made no attempt to pull away, more than pleased with how events were starting to play out. The moment Kiia's magic graced her form, however, Medja's body reacted in a way she wasn't quite expecting. She gasped softly, eyes fluttering as she felt the small rise of energy and the warmth that came with it, then shivered at its withdrawal. It was not a sensation that she'd experienced before; there was something almost therapeutic about it, and in the wake of her life's recently rising stress it was far from an unwelcome feeling. Unbidden, a low moan hummed in the Vizier's throat.

Medja was briefly brought back to reality as Kiia's fingers slid up the side of her face. Rather than push her away, Medja leaned into it, inviting the priestess further. In a rare act, she alighted onto the palace floor and pulled herself closer to her new confidant, drinking in her gaze as her own heart began to increase its pace. Medja's arms wrapped around Kiia's back and she pressed herself to the Abtati woman, bringing their faces mere inches part. Her reply came in a husky whisper:
"There certainly is...High Priestess..."

 

[Kiia Sidra]

Kiia enjoyed Medja's reactions to her magic, enjoyed breaking through the carefully chosen words and actions to elicit a truly genuine response. Each of them seemed to be vying for dominance, to try and control the situation. For a moment, Kiia felt the balance tip in her favor.

The feeling of control evaporated as quickly as Medja's feet touched the tile and her arm snaked around delicate waist. Was this what it felt like to be embraced by a tiger? By her status alone, Medja could order Kiia's death, exile, enslavement, or exultation. By her magic, she could see Kiia entombed beneath the earth or torn to shreds by a million grains of sand. The priestess was not defenseless against most... but with Medja's shape held tight against her own she could not help the adrenaline rush. Fight, flee, or surrender.

She could certainly feel just about every part of Medja. With naught but wafer-thin silk between them, Kiia's senses were awash with the vizier's body and energy.

She had told the truth earlier: strong emotion did make the life force flow more freely, and this did not only apply to Medja. It had been some time since Kiia had felt a passion like this, raw and electric in its spontaneity, and the restraints on her body's unique gifts were loosened. She felt a continuous trickle between the two of them, and ebbing and flowing of energy. The link was tiny, now, but it threatened to grow.

"There certainly is...High Priestess..."

Kiia's eyelids fell deeply hooded as Medja whispered a promise to her. If the sorceress' physical charms were not enough, the allure of power granted sealed her fate. To hell with caution for just this time, an opportunity of this nature presented itself perhaps once a century.

It took barely a nod of her head to close the gap between their lips, and as they touched she drew in a long, deep breath through her nose. Medja's perfumed scent flooded her mind and with it Kiia pulled hard at her life. Lips parted, a heady exhale, and that which was taken rushed back to its source.