Private Tales Remembering What Might Have Been

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"First, you must know that these words are futile..."
​
The words were carried on an almost sultry sounding voice, laced with contempt and interest and lust. Quiet, mincing steps echoed through the chamber, and moved beside where Ánië and Ilona were. Ánië's eyes could not pull away from Ilona as fear and ache poured out through them as though her soul cried out for Ilona's - which she knew was no longer there. At least, she knew that was no longer who was there to harm her - this simply couldn't be her, not really.

"We are still waiting, Councilor Táralóm."
​
Finally Ánië tore eyes away and looked up, and saw she who was looking down on her, shrouded as she was. But Anie knew her voice. She knew her eyes. Anathea Il'Thalina: High Councilor of the Order - and her friend. But in this moment the ire in her eyes was a clear sign this friendship too, was lost. These were not her kin, not as she remembered them.

Not as was right, and just.

Not as it should be.
​
Strength was found on her features then, and this strength pushed her calmly to her feet. Her fellow Aeraesarians gave her leeway to do so, their willingness to do so fueled only by their eagerness to hear her explanation. And yet, even now with most of her memory recalled, she did not have an explanation as to why she was this way and they were that. So as she looked between each of them, her eyes also cast to the stone, darkened and dreary. And it occurred to her then - with a peculiar acceptance - that all had become corrupt. The shards of the Shorai that ringed this room sang to her of this to her themselves with merely their disfigured luminescence. It was a dark light, casting long shadows where none should be.

"What has happened to you, why... how has the Joining been undone?"
​
"Do you mean why am I not consumed by my hate as you are?"

There were several chuckles that echoed through the chamber.

"My dear, it is not simply about hating..."
​
Anathea stepped closer to Ilona, prowling around her in a quite blatantly seductive manner. She ringed around her with the composure of a feline, and lifted a hand to drag a gentle digit down Ilona's jawline before taking a few steps toward Ánië.

Ánië stepped back, putting distance between her and the two. But of course, she knew there was really no where to run. Though they'd formed quite a wide circle around her, she was surrounded all the same. Not only this, she was surrounded by High Councilors of her very own Order, and each one of them was as powerful a magician or skillful a swordsman as any - and of course the two most senior of the sphere of the Swords.

"It is about everything we have ever denied ourselves, don't be so silly my dear, you enjoyed it too when you were still joined..."​

Ánië's head bowed, and her eyes fell shut. She took in a deep breath. She ignored the significance of this new revelation - that she too had still been joined when this... change took place - and focused on the moment. No doubt they would torture her further if she did not comply, which she was of course prepared for. What did worry her is if they were able to rejoin her against her will... what would Tinúviel do? What would Erën do?

What would Ilona do?

"Speak!"​

"This is not about us at all, sister..."

 
Ilona closed her eyes as Anathea ran her finger along her jaw. What Ilona would give to take the woman to bed. Even the good Ilona would have done it before she had fallen in love with Ánië. This Ilona still did not understand it. Ánië was nothing special. Sure, she was pretty but worth all the pain that the real Ilona was dealing with? No, not even a little bit.

"Speak!"​

"This is not about us at all, sister..."

Ilona's attention came back to Anathea and Ánië at the order from the High Councilor. A new sneer crossed Ilona's face right before Anathea moved so quick that Ilona did not register it until she felt pain shoot through her body.

Ilona. The First Sword. The most loyal subject had been stabbed.

She looked down in shock at her left side and then back up at Anathea with horror.

"Remember, Ánië, I know you. I know everything. I will torture Ilona until you give us answers. You will watch her suffer and die!"
​
Ilona looked back down at her bleeding left side and brought her hand up to stop the blood.

"Or you can cooperate and I can heal your lover..."​

Ánië Táralóm
 
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Her eyes snapped open.

She'd anticipated another attack, but she did not expect to see what she saw now.

Her eyes were fixed upon the knife Anathea held, now slick with Ilona's blood. Her lover's blood. Anguish filled Ánië's heart. It weighed her legs, and weakened her hands. She let out a broken breath she didn't realize she'd held, and swallowed harshly with the realization that Anathea knew there was no need to torture her at all. That would take far too long, but this, this...

Ánië could not bear it.

"Please," Ánië plead, falling to her knees, "I... I do not remember, I do not know what happened, but please do not hurt my Ilona..."

Anathea gazed down at Ánië with a particular cruelty in her eyes. She was certain of course that Ánië spoke the truth, she truly did not know how she was no longer joined. However, there was no need to let Ánië know that yet, and there were of course other things she found useful about this situation. She stared down at Ánië as she groveled, but only for a moment. Anathea turned to Ilona again, pulling away her hood and removing her mask, dropping it to the floor with clang. She pushed blonde hair from her face as she drew closer to Ilona, putting her free also over Ilona's wound. There was an affectionate light in her eyes as she stared into Ilona's, and almost grieved expression taking her features. But with this seemingly benevolent guise, she brought her knife up to Ilona's throat, and oh so gently slid its tip across her skin. Were she to apply only the least mount more pressure, she'd draw blood, but she refrained from this.

She meant only to enjoy the moment...

"Such a pretty thing, Ánië, I see why you cherish her so..."
​
"Please stop!"

In another quick movement, Anathea again lashed out against Ilona, driving her knee into the First's abdomen to bring her down to her knees.

"Look at her, Ánië... only you can stop this."
​
Ánië watched in horror as Anathea grabbed hold of Ilona by the hair, pulled her head back, and brought the knife again to her neck - and paused. Her eyes shot up to Ánië, and with fury on her tongue she spat,

"Swear to us you will rejoin, and I will spare her!"
​
She didn't even breath. There was no hesitation. Despite everything she knew it could mean - there was without question, only one choice.

"I swear it."

 
Ilona hissed as Anathea pushed into the wound in her side and she should have known that there was no healing coming from the woman. Ilona was pissed (obviously) but her pain was working so Anathea had made the right decision. The tip of her blade slid across Ilona's throat but she did not move. She kept her eyes locked with Anathea's.

"Such a pretty thing, Ánië, I see why you cherish her so..."​

"Please stop!"

Ilona swore the knee hurt worse than the stab as she fell to the floor and coughed up blood. She was going to die if that gods damned bitch refused to cooperate.

"Look at her, Ánië... only you can stop this."​

Ilona did not fight the High Councilor as she pulled her head back to expose her throat. Ilona just closed her eyes. She would die now.

"Swear to us you will rejoin, and I will spare her!"​

"I swear it."

Ilona's head shot up to look at Ánië. Pathetic, weak Ánië.


The real Ilona screamed into the abyss as Ánië swore her life away.

Ánië Táralóm
 
Anathea remained still for a moment, poised to end Ilona's life before Ánië's very eyes. She seemed to revel in the moment, in the desperation that was plainly painted on her victim's face at the sight of Ilona's plight. She waited long enough for one final plea from Ánië, and then she released Ilona and waved to another of her fellow councilors, who made their way near at her beckoning.

"Fix her," she said as she stepped away from Ilona, and then she gestured to Ánië, saying, "and take her."

From the shadows a number of robed warriors appeared. They were Swords to be sure, but they were shrouded in such darkness that not even Ilona or Sil'Dalin would have felt them in the Shoraes, at least until now. A pair of them gathered Ánië up, and led her deeper into the temple, to the Chamber of Tychan - to the Shorai.

Anathea watched as they departed with her, and then turned to Ilona to witness the final moments of her healing. Jo'Ali, fellow High Councilor, was a powerful sorcerer and adept healer. Ilona's wounds were but a simple task for one such as he. And as such, it was not long before she was fully mended, and ready to continue on unhindered.

"Come, First. You have done well. You will witness the rejoining with us."

 
Ilona reveled in the healing magic that washed over her. She could sense the Swords now but she did not spare them a look at all. They had a job to do and she did too. Getting stabbed had not been on her agenda but it had worked quite nicely.

The First Sword glared at Anathea as she rose to her feet.

"I cannot wait for the day that I get to pay you back for that, High Councilor," Ilona said to the woman with a vicious smile. "I will make sure it hurts plenty before I have you healed too," vicious laughter now accompanied the smile.

She started to walk next to Anathea as they moved towards the Chamber of Tychan. Soon Ánië would be back and Ilona would have to decide who she wanted to continue a relationship with. The actual Ilona's feelings for Ánië had rolled over with the possession and they had been strong until whatever happened to disconnect her lover from the rest of them. This Ilona had come to enjoy her time with Sil'Dalin in the time since Ánië disappeared though.

Decisions, decisions.

"This is going to be beautiful," Ilona spoke softly. "Absolutely beautiful," she held out her hand and Sil'Dalin was by her side in a moment. He was always such a loyal lapdog.

Ánië Táralóm
 
Anathea offered her own smile which only grew as Ilona spoke, and when twisted laugher filled the void of silence in this chamber, she joined in it. She enjoyed the First's threat, and it was all the better knowing full well that she meant every word.

"I will be waiting," she replied, amusement twinkling in her eye.

And then they were on to where this situation could finally be brought to an end - the Chamber of Tychan, where at its center stood the great Shorai. The same dreaded red light shone from it, growing and fading with the gentle, humming pulse. But where a warmth could once be felt from it, there was only cold. Around the cylindrical room, the Conclave gathered, and so too did several others wrapped in dark robes. They stood in a semi-circle next to the Shorai, and in the midst of them was Ánië led.

And there she stood quietly, beholding in terrible wonder the darkness that had taken hold of her people's most beloved, most sacred thing. She wished to reach out and touch it, to feel the Shoraes with such clarity - but she was afraid to. She feared what she would hear, she feared would she would feel from them now, what evil had taken the minds of her people.

Around her, the acolytes began chanting in a strange tongue. Their hands waved about in unknown, arcane ways. Beneath her, a great rune took shape, and spun upon itself. And the Shorai - no longer did it gently pulse as it always did. Now it remained constant, its light remaining its most bright, its hum remaining constant.

"Do you remember your Joining, Ilona?"

Without a doubt she did. The Joining was a ritual that bonded an Aeraesarian's very skeleton - but more specifically their spine - with shards of the Shorai itself. For those who survived - and in these times most did - it was said after even long, battle scarred lives, that it was by far the most excruciating experience they had ever endured.

"This will be kind of like that."

 
Ilona liked the High Councilor and the fact that she could threaten her without getting attacked. That was good since she got attacked for no reason as well apparently.

"Of course, I remember my Joining," she answered. "Back when we thought we were strong but we were nothing compared to now."

The pain from her Joining was something she would never forget. One did not simply forget the Joining. It was the most painful thing she had ever been through in her long life.

"It was the worst and most beautiful pain I have ever experienced," she added as they watched the gathered acolytes chant.

"Someday, Ánië will thank us for this."

Ánië Táralóm
 
Anathea nodded in agreement. When this was all said and done, Ánië would indeed be grateful. She didn't know it yet, but she missed the comfort of their collective more than she realized, and more. With the freedom lord Arkhivom had given them...

Ánië looked up at the Shorai as its behaviour changed. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and she was awestruck by how its power was so commanded by these dark figures. It seemed as though it began to vibrant in an unusual way, and after a time, this became more apparent. High above, at its tipped pinnacle, a crackle of red lightning began and then quit. And then another, farther this time. And she could feel the energy in it growing.

She turned to face Ilona, a solemn look upon her, and she mouthed, "I'm sorry."


The acolytes continued chanting grew, and soon their tortured voiced echoed throughout the chamber. They sounded almost frail in their speech, but the words they spoke too were broken and even painful to hear. It was a ghastly language they spoke, and it gnawed at even Arethil's own patience it seemed, for the ground began to quake. And then, as the chanting reached its culmination, a great light descended from the Shorai's top, enveloped upon itself within, and then sprang forth with a splitting, crackling sound. It lashed out like a clawed hand, and tore at those who were stood close to the great crystal.

Anathea and the other members of the Conclave were wise enough to stay far enough back. Ilona and Sil'Dalin were too. The acolytes, however... well they knew what their fate would be, but this was the will of the Shoraes. This was the will of Arkhivom.

The dark magic reached out and ensnared each of them who had called upon it with arms of dark lightning, and each of them cried out with such anguish that, in that brief moment before it struck her too, Ánië felt fear. But as the dark energy made contact with her it was as though all went black, and pain coursed through her body like she could compare to only one thing... but this seemed even worse. She did not even realize how guttural the cry from her had been when it struck, or how her body writhed as it was hoisted into the air, clutched in this strange grasp.

She did not even realize she'd cried out for Ilona.

All she could think of, was pain.

 
Ilona watched at the lightning killed the acolytes.

Ilona watched as the darkness wrapped around Ánië.

Ilona watched as one of her lovers was tortured.

Ilona did nothing but watch.

Ánië hit the ground and crumpled in on herself like her body had been broken. It had been broken in a way. Horribly broken and put back together.

Ilona moved quickly to Ánië's side and looked down at her. She needed to know if it had worked. Ilona may have been disgusted by Ánië earlier but now she was back. Hopefully.

"Ánië?" She asked softly.

Ánië Táralóm
 
Ilona did watch as the dark lightning tore the life from the acolytes, who cried out onto their final breaths. Ánië cried out too as the lightning pulled at her and coursed through her. Then, a shadow took shape, a shadow that stretched from the lifeless bodies of those acolytes, which were still suspended by the dark magic. The shadows coalesced into a warping mass of darkness before it flung itself upon Ánië and encased her in it.

The lightning disappeared.

The lifeless bodies dropped.

By the time Ánië was in Ilona's arms the darkness had vanished as though it had sank into her pours and permeated her being. And indeed, it had.

"Ánië?" the voice came. That sweet, sweet voice.

Slowly, her eyes peeked open, and where hues of blue should swirl there was the taint of red. The darkness had filled her soul, as it had all the others. Within her she heard the cries of the Shoraes, she heard the darkness of their every shared thought, emotion, and lust. Her body burned with the sensations of its return, and she stretched as though she had awoken from a long sleep. She hummed, and arched her back against Ilona's grasp on her, throwing her head back to look upon the others who stood by watching with an upside down stare. Her hair hung down and pooled on the floor beneath her as she lay there in Ilona's arms, looking up at them.

She giggled.

 
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Ilona breathed again when Ánië giggled. A smile graced her beautiful face as she leaned down to place a kiss on Ánië's lips.

"I missed you, my love," she murmured against the soft lips she loved so much. "Welcome home, Ánië, welcome home," she smiled at the newly reunited woman then looked up at Anathea.

"She is back," Ilona said happily.

"Councilor Táralóm has come home!" Her voice carried now. She announced the wonderful news to everyone. There was no hiding their relationship now and, honestly, Ilona did not want to. She was sure that Sil'Dalin would be less than pleased but...oh well.

Ánië Táralóm
 
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Ánië hummed against her lovers kiss, and licked her lips as her head again fell lazily back as she lay there in Ilona's arms. Her entire body felt nearly lifeless, wracked by the onslaught of magic that had been levied against her to carry out this crude ritual. It was an odd sensation, being unable to life her own legs. She was barely even able to lift her own arms, but still, she giggled yet again.

"So you hoped I'd perish, Anathea... I'm hurt."

It was strange really. As a follower of the light, she'd always been regarded as a kind and sweet individual, but now she took on an even kinder demeanour. But Anathea was not fooled in the least. She could feel the contempt Ánië bore toward her. Though there were no outward signs of it, the whole Shoraes could feel the looming hate that burned in Ánië. It even quieted some. And worse yet - she was not supposed to know that Anathea had wished her dead... that was supposed to be hidden, locked behind mental doors so strong not even the former First himself would break the lock.

But before she had a chance at rebuttal, she felt a sensation at her neck.

She looked among her colleagues. Some were quicker to take notice than others, but before long all could see.

Anathea struggled to breath. She reached at her neck, but her hands found nothing to tug away at. She could not speak, and for only a few moments was there any confusion in her as to what was happening. The grasp became tighter, and her eyes bolted to see Ánië, laying there with an empty stare, looking her straight in the eye. She fell to her knees as weakness gripped her.

"What should I do, love?" Ánië asked with a slow and sleepy tone, "should I let her live?"

 
Ilona had promised her revenge on Anathea but Ánië was really the one who deserved to enact it. The bitch had had hurt her to get to Ánië and Ánië's sweets weak soul had suffered. Ánië's sweet, weak soul was gone now. Her Ánië was back. The beautiful, strong, cunning queen that Ilona had spent years loving. A love that carried over even deeper once Arkhivom had given them all even more power. A love that could never truly be broken.

"What should I do, love? Should I let her live?"

A soft hmmmm came from Ilona as she watched Anathea struggle to breath.

"Yes, I think you should. Death would be a kindness. She needs to be alive as you take your position back and we both make it a priority to make her life miserable," Ilona looked down at Ánië with a wicked, beautiful smile.

"I miss you so very much, Ánië," she said with all the honesty the evil being could muster.


It was over.

Ánië was back in the clutches of evil.

The good Ilona had nothing else to fight for here.

She laid down in her dark cell and fell asleep.

Ánië Táralóm
 
Ánië's powers had quite clearly returned to her. She needed not even direct those unseen forces with any indication through her flesh. She instead simply layed there in Ilona's arms, with only the focus of her eyes on Anathea's struggled ordeal. She watched with sick amusement as her counterpart squirmed and screamed out through the Shoraes for air.

Following after Ilona's opinion, she eventually released her telekinetic grasp on Anathea's throat. She blinked as she released her focus, and smiled deviantly up at her lover before she lifted herself to a sit. Then, her arms splayed out lazily to her sides, and she was lifted from her place to float as she stretched her legs out to stand. The tips of her toes dangled daintily over the cool floor before coming to rest as she lowered herself down.

Then, carried on long, sinful strides, she drew nearer to Anathea, who still cradled herself as she coughed and gasped after nearly suffocating from Ánië's merciless attack. The repossessed sorceress stood over her for a moment with a sour and looming gaze lowered upon her. And then, with vengeance in her hand she grabbed the womans hair and pulled her head back to look up at her, and Ánië stared deeply into her bloodshot eyes with a somewhat amused distaste.

"Thank you, sister, for bringing my mind home..." she released her, and turned to address the other councilors present, saying, "... I shall return to my place as the head of this council in lord Arkhivom's stead... and in his place, the Order shall answer to me."

 
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Ilona had never been more turned on than she was watching Ánië become the fucking badass bitch she was again. Beautiful and perfect and so so evil. Ilona could have carried the High Councilor to a side room right now and kept her occupied for the a day or so.

Ilona watched the councilors to see if she needed to kill any but they all nodded in their approval of Ánië resuming her previous position. Ilona smiled as she watched her. She supposed that the two of them were no longer a secret and now she had to talk to Sil'Dalin about how they would being going back to a strictly professional relationship.

The First Sword stood silently as she waited for her orders.

Ánië Táralóm
 
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Her proclamation went as expected.

Without protest.

Silently she looked between a number of the councilors before her eyes fell one final time upon Anathea, who was now scornfully peering up at her.

"This meeting is now adjourned," she said in nearly a whisper. She could of course only thought it and they'd have heard, but the spoken word was always preferred. Then, her eyes shot up to Ilona and her desire to be followed was shared.

And with that she turned and left from the chamber, away from the Shorai, down a darkened corridor.

 
Ilona threw Anathea a disgusted look before she followed after Ánië without another word. She caught up to her lover easily and reached out to intertwine her fingers with hers.

"You are so beautiful when you put others in their place," she spoke softly as they walked.

She could only hope that Ánië's anger wasn't turned on her for technically cheating when Ánië was gone. Their hate may fuck up their love but it was still there...just a little twisted.

"I think you need to get some sleep though. You have have a hard few months out on your own, my love," she added with a light squeeze of Ánië's hand.

Ánië Táralóm
 
The others were quite distant now. They were alone, and there was quiet around them. She hummed in response to much of what Ilona said to her, and let casually affectionate thoughts find their way toward her... that was until she mentioned the recent past. Then her hand tightened around Ilona's too. But then her pace began to slow. Her hold tightened even more, and with the slow turning of her head she again offered Ilona another mischievous smile.

Ánië then stopped and tugged Ilona's arm to pull her back and toward her. She placed her other hand on her lover's chest as she turned toward her, and gently Ánië guided Ilona until her back was against the wall. She leaned in close, and her lips brushed against Ilona's as she whispered to her,

"Was I missed?"

The air around them seemed to become still and close, and cold.

 
Ilona was startled when Ánië started to push her but then her back hit the cold smooth stone wall. The brush of Ánië’s lips was almost enough to have her picking up the woman and carrying her home. The words and the tone in which they were delivered stopped her though.

The air was thick and cold around them now as Ilona brought her free hand up to hold the back of her lovers neck.

“Of course, you were, my love…” Her words were soft. The hand that was holding Ánië’s neck slid up into her hair and she brought her lips to the councilors.

Two could play the dominance game. Two usually did play it.

Ánië Táralóm
 
She so enjoyed Ilona. There was such fire in Ánië's heart for her that when their lips met again she released a tidal wave of passion upon her. She resisted Ilona's dominance and forced her own upon her, pressing harder with thebhand agsinst her chest, withdrawing her other from their entwined hold and wrapped it around the woman's waist. For several breathless moments she kissed Ilona, and slowly over time there was something else that burned in Ánië that became more and more apparent. And as it rose, Ánië's thoughts began to turn.

Tightness around her neck. Around her wrists... to the wall... around her ankles... tighter...

The closeness of the air drew in, and it no doubt became obvious to the First Sword that just as Anathea had been bound by Ánië moments ago, the same was now happening to her. It was gentle, starting slow, but before long or if Ánië suddenly switched, the hold would be grasped tightly. And the feeling showed itself more obviously.

Jealousy.​

 
The kiss did not last as long as Ilona would have liked and it quickly changed to something else completely.

Ilona thought that Ánië was just holding her tighter but then it didn't stop. She couldn't move her arms, legs, or body away from the wall now. She struggled but nothing happened as her breathing was cut off at the same time.

"Ánië..." She coughed out, "Ánië..." She said again with the hopes to bring her lover back to reality.

Then a strange feeling that she had never felt came from Ánië and Ilona struggled to speak again.

"Ánië, I love you," Ilona cried out in desperation. "I love you, Ánië, I am so sorry."

Ánië Táralóm
 
"But of course," she whispered, placing a final kiss against Ilona's lips before the unseen restraints were abruptly released.

She had no interest in truly harming Ilona. She loved her, and in this there was no question. But there was also no hiding her newfound disdain for Sil'Dalin. How dare he capitalize on such a dreadful circumstance. It would be him who would one day face Ánië's wrath, but thankfully for his sake, that would come another time.

She withdrew from Ilona as she released her, turned and carried on down the corridor. She moved as casually as if nothing had transpired between them, and made her way back out into the great hall. She emerged out onto an elevated floor with stairs on either side leading down to the main floor of the wide and vast hall. There were many of their Order within the temple, working diligently. Since the time of the Eventide their temple's tower, which once reached high into the sky, lay in ruin. After Arkhivom had come, they'd been tasked by his will to rebuild the great tower, and in place of the old council chamber his throne would be set.

It would be glorious.

And Ánië watched for a time as they worked with magic and tools to lift and build. There were many more outside and above working likewise. She could feel their presence, and hear their thoughts. It was well with her spirit that she was once again with her people - she did not even conceive that her will was no longer truly her own.

 
The power holding her against the wall fell away and Ilona stumbled forward. Ánië was already walking away which caused Ilona to have to recover a little quicker than she had planned to.

"Please let me find a suitable second before you kill him," Ilona requested as she slipped her hand into her lovers once more.

They stood in the great hall together in silence for a few minutes before Ilona stepped behind Ánië and wrapped her arms around her.

"What is on your mind, my love?" She asked softly as she kissed Ánië's neck.

Ánië Táralóm
 
She hummed with delight as Ilona wrapped her in an embrace, and Ánië leaned into her, placing her own hands over Ilona's. The touch of lips on her neck gave her goosebumps, and she was reminded of why it was easy to love this woman so.

What is on your mind, she asked. So Ánië opened her mind, and let her thoughts flow as a gently running stream.

To her, there was no need for Sil'Dalin to die by their hand. He would be sent on an errand, one he was unlikely to return from, but one that needed doing all the same. Even better if he survived to watch as Ánië reclaimed what was hers, but it mattered little. And too, she decided it was indeed time to rest. She longed to return to the Dream State.

"Will you take me home, Ilona?"

 
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