Private Tales Evolution

[Kor]

She'd be coming soon.

The eyes of the raven never told a lie. The black curtain of feathered sentinels that patrolled every corner of the region were his legion to command, and no flittering shadow could hope to hide from their inescapable gaze. Atop a boulder he sat, a lone stone centerpiece to what had once been a small fishing village built along the edge of a massive lake, now an empty shell. This had been his home for at least a month now: an experiment gone splendidly. The buildings that surrounded him, built from the same solid stone as his seat, showed incredible damage; chunks of rock taken out, holes dozed through the walls, roofs collapsed in on themselves. The scent of death was only overpowered by the stench of fish. One wouldn't think the man dressed in black, blind as death and pale as a ghost, would be capable of such destruction.

One would be correct. The being called Kor didn't make this mess, he'd just pointed the finger.

It was the loyal beasts of the surrounding forest that had vacated this village for him, bending to his will, to the might of an ever-increasing magical prowess that had long since extended from the avian and into the realm of mammal, reptile and amphibian. One step closer to his dream, to the goal he'd sought before he'd allowed himself to be corrupted by sentiment and emotion.

Beyond Master of Bird. Ever closer toward Master of All. Those vestiges of humanity who'd resisted? As the bears and hawks and snakes and alligators ravaged their home? They became food for the flock, meat for the pack. There was nothing left of them now, of course. Kor had appropriated the village and it's amenities for himself now. All that remained was their eyes, fashioned into a grotesque necklace and hanging from the pallor skin of his neck. That which the Gods sought to keep from him, he now took from others.

Even now, he could find the humor in irony.

Alas, though he'd purged himself of much of his humanity, his sentiment and affection, there remained one stubborn piece of his heart that remained red and human. One person he still felt the familiar twinge of desire for somewhere deep in the refuse that was his soul. Soleil Verdane. The strange sand-woman who'd shown him kindness, or her version of it, where none else ever had before. There were still times he felt the press of her fingertip on his chest, the single word she'd spoken to him.

"Friend."

Kor couldn't decide if he hated the sensation, or craved more of it. Either way, he needed to meet with her to figure that out. More than that, he needed to return to Soleil that piece of her he'd kept for all this time.

Had she even noticed it missing, he wondered?

Risen Soleil Verdane

 

[Risen Soleil Verdane]

Soleil knew she was on a leash.

But the game amused her. Fun! Cat and mouse! The Vigilite thought themselves the cat. But them? Big mouse. Her? Patient cat.

And Soleil did think herself to be patient. Prided herself on it, in truth. Her crowning achievement, the murder of Caeso Diemut, was born of patience; waiting her turn. She also enjoyed immensely the hoarding of secrets, knowing things that other people don't know, especially if said people desperately wanted to know said things. The Vigilite yearned for the knowledge Soleil held: the plans and whereabouts of Sabien Diemut. And she might tell them. In time. When it benefitted her. When it was to her advantage, her desire.

In the meantime, she knew their game. They wanted to keep her under control, yes, and that's why they allowed her into the 5th Reconnaissance Squad, but they also wanted to give her enough rope, enough leeway for her to make a "mistake" that would lead them to Sabien.

Silly Vigilite! Will make "mistake" when ready!

So Soleil tolerated the Vigilite tracker who was on her trail, following her as she made for the outskirts of Anirian territory and beyond. He was good! Very sneaky! She pretended not to notice the tracker, his familiar face and familiar eyes wearing this disguise or that as she made a stop here or a stop there in her travel; she pretended not to notice the shadow of a man in the night, disappearing like a ghost from some vantage point near her camp; she had to play innocent because that was the game.

And the Vigilite tracker would be disappointed when she met not with any of Sabien's associates, but with an old friend.

Kor. The Raven. A Dreadlord who might have, in a sense, cheated death himself.

* * * * *​

The raven indeed told no lie.

Through the vacated village a march of sand rolled, low to the ground, looking akin to some strange sort of carpet creeping along. The grains hissed quietly as they passed over dirt and stone and grass, over the debris of the damage done to the village so carved out by Kor via the right of conquest as his own.

And from where Kor made his abode the sand trickled, and began to gather and coalesce before him. First came her feet, then her legs, then the lower half of her dress swirled into being, and next arrived her abdomen, her breast, her arms and now the upper half of her dress and her coat, and then came her neck, her head, her hair flowed into fullness, her face took shape and at last she opened her eyes, Soleil Verdane, fully formed from the sand.

She smiled broadly. Trilled her tongue excitedly. And said: "Hiiiiiiii~!"

Kor