Private Tales The Long Way Down

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Elijah

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Elijah paused when he stepped back inside his little slice of homely life. He could feel a spear sliding in the pile and it was dislodging a helmet buried in the depths of his arms. If he was on his own he would have dumped the lot of it in the livingroom and dealt with it another time but with a guest, especially a lady, it felt... wrong. He could imagine that disapproving look already and shuddered. In an awkward shuffle he instead took them straight to the cupboard by the door where he kept them. Once away he strode back to the kitchen and filled a clay jug with water from the barrel he kept inside the kitchen, cut off a slice of lemon in an attempt to make it fancier, then carried it outside with some glasses.

"Here we go," he carefully set it all down then poured the flavoured water into the two cups. There was only one chair so instead of hovering like some awkward bodyguard, Elijah sat on the grass instead. With his legs stretched out in front of him he leaned back until he was resting on his forearms and gave a sigh of contentment. The sun felt good on his still bare chest and the heat went some way to easing the muscle ache.

"Sorry about the noise... Everyone's houses face on to it."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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She sat and stared into the middle distances, eyes unfocused as though she had suffered a blow to her head. A lot of that had to do with the fact that she was looking inward, not out; some secret memories that she could tell no other of - not that they could understand. The pale light of winter, warm as it was today at least, intensified the appearance of paleness of her skin, drawn even more pale by her current affliction. She looked like nothing so much as a slug pulled from under a rock or a rotting stump, tangled mass of red haphazardly arranged about her.

She blinked and looked up as he came out, announcing his presence with soft words. It took a moment to pull herself from the depths of reflection, and even then she had to blink a few more times and shake her head lightly.

"It is nothing," she said dismissively, voice uncharacteristically reedy. "I've had...much worse, this last year or two." At least there was a bed, however long she could stay here. Not long, she suspected; she was more than certain this fellow would sacrifice his bed as long as she needed it, would put her up in his home as long as need be...

...but it was a thing that could not be. It was bad enough, being tossed into the mud and trodden on by every passing set of feet without seeing herself as a pauper, a beggar. She had no material wealth, no family, and no power and yet she still held on to stubborn pride. Perhaps it was foolish to cling to such a thing, but she could no sooner abandon it than she could her own life. For all that she had tried she had failed in that regard, too.

She settled back in the chair, and rested her eyes. The warm, red glow through her eyelids was oddly comforting, in the same way the pale light and subtle warmth seemed to seep into her, carrying a kind of lethargy with them.

"I do not understand something," she said suddenly, word precisely enunciated. "You said that you follow your duty to the people of Erdeniin, but surely you would not take any stray into your home," she continued in a lilting tone. Her eyes remained closed, pale lips forming the words, breeze teasing at strands of fire. "Why? I cannot believe you would do so for just any person on the street. Why me?" Her eyes were open now, pale things filled with curiosity and pain in equal measure.
 
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Elijah

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"I don't know."

Elijah was nothing if not honest. It was a trait that would find him in more trouble than not, Samantha had once warned him. It was why he chose to keep his mouth shut on matters of importance where his opinion was asked but never truly wanted unless it fit in with the person askings ideals; which it seldom did. However, with Lyssia he thought that honesty was perhaps the best strategy. If she caught him in a lie then they might be back to angry words and he was too tired to keep that up.

"I think it is what my fiancée would have done. She always said a house was a privilege that should be shared," his words were light but there was a subtle hint of sadness despite the smile on his lips at the memory. It had been one of many things Eli had never understood but had nodded and watched in amazement as she turned their house into a home simply by filling it with people. "And I couldn't think of an inn that would have taken you after that with Madame Kyru," the gossips would have spread who she was through the streets quicker than wildfire.
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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Subtlety was something she was quite well trained to recognize, and she didn't miss the undertone to his reply. In fact, it might not have been that subtle at all. She was not stupid, or at least did not see herself as such. The empty house, with all the little touches of another sharing it with this man, had not gone unnoticed despite her preoccupation with her own problems. The absence of the woman he spoke of, the past-tense way he spoke of her, and all the strange things in the house - things left lying where they had last been used, undisturbed - told a tale to her.

He probably did not want to speak of it, probably would not appreciate her prying into that cavernous well of sorrow. It was, perhaps, a product of her youth that she had not considered that he might actually want to speak of it, either sincerely or within the depths of his soul.

"How could having a home be a privilege," she said in a soft voice. It was not a question, or at least it was not directed to him. She was a woman born into privilege, but did not consider such things and food, water, and a roof over her head to be among those privileges she'd once had. The separation between her and the common class had been a great one. She had assumed her own dire circumstances had more to do with what her family had been accused of and less to do with poor fortunes, just as she assumed all the riff raff choking the streets were either criminals or similarly shunned.

"I am hated," she said slowly, circling the abyss carefully. She had no desire to dig up old hurts, especially since it was quite clear that he had yet to heal from his wounding. And you have healed from yours? The voice belonged to her, and was full of disdain for her own refusal to face the reality of her world. "They do not even know me, and yet their hearts are filled with disgust and hatred. All for an accusation that was never substantiated." She sat still, her eyes still closed. The warmth of the sun was welcome, but a cold draft seemed to send a chill up her spine. "You are right, but...I cannot stay here forever. For one, it is not right...and for another, it will bring ruin down upon you, eventually."

She half opened her eyes, regarding him dispassionately.
 
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Elijah

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Elijah added explaining why houses were a privilege to the box of things best-left-unspoken.

He supposed for a woman of such high station it seemed as unremarkable as owning servants or being able to afford food without battering an eyelid. Yet the truth was despite the kindness of the Dynast, may the Light shine on her, the majority of the people of Dornoch found themselves crammed into a single room of one of those rickety houses. His own family, of which there had been six of them, had been one. He had never really thought it was an unusual thing, everyone he knew after all was in the same situation, but he could still remember how unusual it had been when he had first been given his own room in the barracks. It had been even harder to settle into a whole house of his own.

But Eli didn't think she would appreciate having that pointed out to her, especially not at that given moment when she was circling the drain of her own misery once more.

Instead he considered her other words.

"Perhaps," he inclined his head slowly and met her eyes steadily. "But my name can withstand speculation," the Captain of the Pegasi had more than won his fame during his service. "At the most they will think I have taken on a concubine."

Fuck, that was definitely something that should have gone in the left-unspoken box.
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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Definitely the list of things best left unsaid.

She did not think that, of course. Not when outrage and incredulity were at war on her face, eyes wide as they would go and spots of color on her pale cheeks that could have embarrassment, anger, or - much more likely - both. She spluttered at the mere suggestion of such a thing. She was old, perhaps, by his standards but still very young by those of the sidhe. She had never done...that before, and the thought of that only served to embarrass her more, which in turn made her more angry about being embarrassed about something so ludicrous.

And that was not even getting into the class divide, or the fact that the high born did not become concubines to common soldiers!

"I would have any such cretin even hinting at it - even hinting at it! - flogged!" The tone that was delivered in was dangerous to say the least, flat and as cold as winter itself. The tone said that if she couldn't find someone that would flay the flesh off the back of anyone who even so much as whispered those words, then she would do it herself.

In fact, she got to her feet suddenly, face as red as a tomato with conflicting emotions - and then promptly feinted back into the chair. She was only out for a brief instant, not even long enough for the flush in her pale flesh to fade. She opened her mouth to make some other argument, and only managed to open and shut it without making any meaningful sounds. "Anyway, they wouldn't think that about you, since you still haven't-"

She shut her mouth so hard and fast that her teeth clicked. She had just about said something that even she knew would be insensitive, anger or no.
 
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Elijah

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Lyssia scared Elijah.

Such a truth was probably not a secret given how sheepish he had been around her previously when she raised her voice to him. However, on this occasion he couldn't seem to find the wisdom to be nervous at her open threats. Maybe it was the colour in her cheeks or the way she spluttered or it might have been the fact he found the idea ludicrous himself. Either way his lips began to curve upwards into a tiny, rare smile as he watched her fit of passion. Amusement gave way to concern when she eventually collapsed back into her chair and he was on his feet with the speed and grace of a cat despite his size.

He stopped in his tracks of coming to her side when her sentence was left unfinished.

The smile vanished and a tenseness returned to his whole way of being. The Captain might have struggled with the nuances of what to say to people and when but he was good enough to understand what it was people meant when they spoke to him. She might as well have let the knife drop for all that the unfinished sentence did in that moment.

"Still haven't what?" now it was his turn to let anger flavour his tone. He of course had some inkling of what it was she meant - Lyssia was not a dumb woman and Elijah made no effort to remove the woman who had been the other part of his soul from his home. She had to know he had lost someone dear to him and he knew it would hurt for her to say it yet he pushed her, forced her to say the nasty thing it was she stopped herself from uttering.
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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Now look what you've gone and done!

She did think that. She opened her mouth to do what people like her did best - obfuscate, deflect, or outright lie if need be - and then closed it again. She was still very angry, absurdly so for the cause of the offense, but it was draining away rather rapidly. Why be a coward now, woman? You started to say it knowing it would cut deep. A disproportionate reaction to something that did not warrant it. Why not? Why not burn it all down.

The color faded, and her eyes softened, turning from the hunter to the hunted in the span of a handful of seconds. She swallowed, and then continued what she had been about to say. She was no coward, at least.

Just a fool.

"Because you still have not moved past the one who is not here anymore," she said. Hints were hints, but the woman might simply have left him. Or been dead. Either way, they were not here and it was clear that her absence - it had to be a woman, as the brush and clothes and other feminine touches hinted at - weighed heavily upon his mind.

She folded her hands in her lap, and waited for the storm of words, the tears or the anger or the outright expulsion from his home. Whatever it was, she had earned it with her (once again) thoughtless words.
 
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Elijah

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Whereas Lyssia's anger burned hot, Elijah's burned cold.

Once she had finished what it was she had bitten off in a moment of clarity, the Captain could only stare at her. A multitude of responses sprung to mind but they all tasted like ash in his mouth before his jaw could do more than unclench. Samantha would have grabbed the woman by the hair and simply thrown her out, or she would have perhaps screamed. Eli had never seen the point in raising his voice. Watching his father and mother argue as he grew up had taught him that shouting did little more than fan the flames more. A lesser man would have struck her but what little respect and values he knew were his own and had not died with Samantha would never allow him to do that.

"They wouldn't think that of me," he said slowly as he turned and walked back to his spot on the grass, putting his back deliberately to her. "Because they know me."

Unlike in most societies, theirs was a one in which women rose to the top and men had to fight to be seen. Elijah's character, his every action was held under a microscope and held to a very different standard to his fellow women of rank. If he brought a whore into his home it would have been a scandal even though many of the soldiers within his ranks visited brothels frequently.
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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She waited for more to come, but none came. She never expected him to lay a finger on her - that sort of thing was simply not done. if it had come to that, he might well have killed her and disposed of her body to avoid the punishment. It wasn't as though either offense were considered much worse than the other.

Something twisted inside of her, and she had no word for what it was. She was prideful - always had been, and being kicked into the dirt repeatedly for a year had proven ineffective at teaching her any humility. Depression and despair were not humility. And yet, something like a snake had hold of her spine, of her heart, and it squeezed mercilessly on her.

The anger might be gone, but her outrage at even a joking reference to her as being some kind of whore stood solidly between her and an apology for her words lingered. Lyssia did not apologize often for her words, and it had to be understood that she said a lot of things in her life that demanded repentance. And seldom had it ever been requested. She could make apologies for her House - if it still existed - but any apology for her present words would feel like - and would be - a lie.

Silence stretched between them, coldness like the breath of winter from the one, stubborn refusal to admit that she was wrong, or insensitive, or needlessly cruel. She knew she had been all of those things...and could not speak the words, even knowing.

It had been a bit much, in any case. The word concubine had cut deep and done so quickly, far more quickly than it had any right to. It was not the same thing as a whore, after all. But it does infer that my status is lower than his, that my class is less. That it was probably true made it sting more.

She looked at his back, unable to come up with any words to clear the air but the obvious ones that she couldn't bring herself to say.
 
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Elijah

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"Her name was Samantha."

To begin with Elijah had not been sure whether or not to tell Lyssia of the woman whose memory was in every fabric of his home. It had been two years since they had brought her body back to him and yet speaking of her still hurt as much as it had on that fateful day. He only had to close his eyes to bring up an image of her smiling face as she teased him over this thing or that. The memories of how she had stolen his laughter even when he had thought himself incapable of it after battle. With a sigh his shoulder sagged under the weight of what he had lost.

"We were engaged - she used to be the Captain of the Pegasi," a position they had given to him afterwards. It was what made it so bitter; the position should have never been vacant. He would have been happy to have always been her second. "But she died in battle with one of the Deveshi," the people who still roamed the Steppes and harassed towns under the protection of the Dynast.

Eli still couldn't bring himself to turn and look at her. Instead he spoke to the sky and pretended he was alone; it was easier to stop himself breaking that way.

"They know I still love her and would never take another woman. Your honour and status are safe here."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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"It doesn't get any easier."

The words were sudden, spoken softly and without any inflection to hint at the emotions that swam within them. Was their a hint of cruelty there? It must have been an illusion, because there was too many other things that were diametrically opposed to that notion in her words.

"They say it does, but they are liars. All of them...liars." She had been looking away, but she wasn't looking away now. She was looking at his back, face a carved mask the endeavored to show no emotion at all, and failed miserably at it. To be strong in the face of adversity, to show strength and confidence when things were at their worst...that was a thing she had been trained for.

She just was not very good at it.

"I lay awake at night for weeks, staring into the starry sky, in denial. They could not be gone, just couldn't. The world doesn't work that way. Oh sure, people die, but..." But not all of them. Not all at once. Not without warning. And the world had shown little compassion for the loss of her family. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite; they reveled in her loss and in her suffering. Those who had cared enough had enjoyed rubbing the cold reality of the world in at every opportunity during those first couple of months, when the staggering losses had seemed meaningless for their incomprehensible completeness.

Saying the words did not feel cathartic, did not bring her comfort, and did not ease the tension of the moment. If anything, it only made things worse, rammed home the magnitude of her mistaken words. She was arrogant and disdainful quite often, but she did not lack empathy. She could put herself into his shoes - all too easily - and feel that pain cutting through the black, atrophied thing that was her heart.

"It still...doesn't make any sense. I..." ...am sorry, she did not say. Instead, she trailed into silence, ignorant of the single tear tracing the curve of her pallid face.
 
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Elijah

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Elijah gave a slow, resigned nod.

What she said had been something he had suspected all through the condolences, the best wishes, the empty encouragement that things would one day hurt less. Time was a great healer for many things but grief for a loved one? For he knew time would never diminish the love he felt for Samantha even still, even when he knew he would never see her again, and grief was always equal to love. In a way it was the price people paid to love. There was always the risk of losing that which people held most dear whether it was a person, a pet, or even an object of some kind and if that happened there would be pain. It didn't put him off the idea of ever loving something or someone again for what was life without love, but it made him tired thinking of it.

"If this is the cost I must pay for loving her for the time we had then so be it," despite the sadness Elijah sounded at peace with the thought. There was no tenseness to his shoulders and in fact he seemed to radiate a certain sense of calm. Like a still lake on a pleasant summers day or a sturdy oak tree that stretched high above peoples heads. After a while longer he cleared his throat.

"She would have wanted you to stay for as long as you needed, Lyssia. If it makes you uncomfortable I can start asking around for some lodgings instead in the city itself. Not everyone will turn you away but it will take a few days at the least."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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She wanted to say that there had been no comfort in her life since that day, but the truth of it was that the end had come months later, soaked in the blood of kin and steeped in the realization that she could have done something to prevent at least that one solitary death. She did not, though; her problems were her own and not his to be concerned about. She had no right to seek his sympathy or his pity, and so she did not.

"I....do not know," she said. The truth was she did not feel strongly either way. There was something genuine about this man that she had not seen in others for quite some time. The only trouble was her; eventually, she would bring trouble to him. He might very well stand by the notion that his wife would have wanted her here, but not only did she doubt that very much - especially after the display with her careless words - she also knew that the enemies arrayed before her, tepid as they might be about her, would cast him into the mud as carelessly as they had her. "I do not even understand why any would bother on my account, anyway."

She lay back in the chair, and stared into the cloudless sky with tired eyes. "It is not exactly like I have endeared myself to you in either case," she added.
 
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Elijah

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A low, hearty chuckle shook the mountainous man's shoulders and finally he turned around. The look on his face was an odd cocktail of amusement and perplexion - as though he couldn't quite figure her out. One moment she was raging at him like a storm battered at the hatches and then in a breath she was as vulnerable as a new born lamb. He couldn't figure her out. Every sentence he thought to say could earn him either side of her personality.

"People do anything for the right amount of money," Elijah tactfully decided to avoid the topic she had left the conversation on. It would probably do him no good anyway to tell her he as of yet had no real opinion or feelings towards her other than one of duty. It probably wouldn't be wise for him to get personally invested in her plight for several reasons, not least of all political. If he was simply to be seen as acting as a Captain he would be able to keep helping her.

As was right.

"It's not a decision you need to make right now anyway."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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"People do anything for the right amount of money," she repeated in a dead voice. Here, perhaps, she knew more than he. The affairs of the aristocracy often rested on that simple principle; if you cannot do it yourself or be seen to be doing it yourself, well, there is always someone out there willing to sacrifice ideals and morals for coin. She could not help but see the willingness of others to sell themselves for coin as anything other than a moral negative. It was, after all, what had brought her to her own ruin - others doing likewise to her.

But are you any better? She wasn't sure she was. In all honesty, the man standing before her was probably more honorable and honest than she was, and not by a small margin. For some reason, he seemed different than the others she had encountered since being thrown out on her ears.

Her own emotions were a muddled mess. She did not know if it was a consequence of nearly dying, or if some other thing was in play. She had been reduced to a penniless waif, cast on the streets with no place to call home. Maybe that was the source of her issues. Thinking on it, there were plenty of things to be upset about. The end result, though, was that she was emotionally exhausted on top of being physically drained.

"That is just as well," she replied. "I do not think I am capable of making a decision about anything right now."
 
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Elijah

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"Maybe... you should sleep?" The subtle lilt at the end of his sentence turned it from a statement that might be construed as aggressive and domineering into an awkward, hopeful question. He had made it clear he hadn't thought she should be out of bed to begin with, and returning her to bed was of a high priority to him. Elijah wanted her well. Perhaps then she could make decisions and take the responsibility away from him. He knew he was way out of his depth with the combination of magic educed injuries and political problems. It felt as though he was walking through a web with a blindfold on. Each stinky string he avoided was by pure luck.

"Or if you don't want to sleep I've got some books... or..." weapons, weapons, oh and weapons. Fool of a man, he chided himself quietly. "I could show you round," he finished awkwardly. The compound was quite large but a small stroll would show her the key areas.
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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"I am not that tired," she lied. Brazenly, one might add, since it was quite clear that she was and there was no way she could hide it. The idea of being confined to a bed for yet more time sounded dreadfully dull, especially when there was just so much that needed to be done. "A little stroll would do me some good," she said. She was not certain of that at all, but once again it was better than the alternative.

She got to her feet unsteadily, and waited for things to stop spinning. Blessedly it was only a momentary ordeal. "I...did not know that they kept soldiers in houses like this," she said in an attempt to hide her unsteadiness. "I thought they were kept in barracks." Also thought that they were mostly women, she added mentally. She needed to clear her mind in order to digest everything that had happened recently, not least of all Elijah. The man was an enigma, and there were clearly depths to him that she did not know or understand. One did not rise to a captaincy by happenstance, and the Dynasty was not known to bow to paid commissions. Her officers all rose by merit, not by coin.

She looked at him as a puzzle that she couldn't tease apart.

Once she felt steady enough, she gestured with an open hand. "Lead the way, Captain."
 
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Elijah

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Of course, she would pick the option that required the most amount of strain upon herself. He should have mentioned the games he had, not dangled the temptation of the outside world in front of her nose. If he had been in her position he too would have bitten at the chance to get out even when he knew it would probably only slow the healing process. Still, the Captain said nothing. Instead he gave a tiny sigh of resignation and drew himself to his feet. He was not a graceful man and his movements were cumbersome and slow but eventually he stretched and grabbed his shirt from where he had slung it to pull it over his broad chest.

He scratched absentmindedly at an itch there when it settled against his skin.

"Aye, the cadets do. It's the best place for them to learn really," and it made everyone's job a lot less stressful. Cadets no matter the race, realm or creed he had discovered were always getting themselves into mischief and were best treated as idiots until they could prove otherwise. "And bond with their fellow privates - that's where you find your shield brothers and sisters," Eli explained as he showed her the way out of his tiny abode. From the front of the house they exited onto a neatly kept street with identical houses stretching along to the left and right.

Eli took the right and was careful to keep his pace in step with her own.

"When a soldier graduates they're offered a home. Some live in the city with their families or some choose a home with a close comrade here."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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She knew that the Dynasty took care of the imperial army far better than many other nations did. For many people within the Erdiniin, it was a way to climb the social ladder and to pull their family out of the poverty that seemed to cripple large swathes of the world.

She was not surprised at the neatness of the street outside. Much of Dornoch was kept meticulously clean, even the poorer quarters of the city. A combination of national pride from its citizenry and vigilant maintenance overseen by the Bursars of the city itself kept the city clean and, at least openly, crime free. It was a thing that Lyssia had felt pride about before and, even now, still recognized as a shining beacon of strength for the Dynasty in comparison to other nations. The nobility - whatever their own personal opinions of the commoners - treated the commons well, and ensured their quality of life often before their own.

It was just a shame that while the commons were, by and large, safe from the predation of the nobility, the nobles themselves were ever at one each others throat. Only the strongest and most dutiful should survive to serve the Dynast, after all. Erdiniin depended on the steadfast strength of its leadership.

I will not allow their scheming to undermine my life!

"I've never understood the bond between soldiers," she said carefully as she made her way with equal care beside him. She ignored any looks from others on the street; she did not want nor need to deal with any further blows to her fragile ego at the moment. "How can you trust another with your life?"
 
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Elijah

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Elijah was the opposite to Lyssia in every way. Their glaringly obvious differences aside, it was things like the way she would walk with her chin tilted and a look of daring reproach upon her face whereas he walked hunched as though hoping to somehow fold himself into a less obtrusive size. Whilst she avoided peoples gaze in a haughty manner, Elijah met every gaze with a nod of comradery and respect, murmuring a quiet hello when greetings were offered to him. He knew every name, or so it seemed, and despite his body language suggesting he was awkward, his tone suggested he was actually more at home out here than his house.

Her question brought out a rare smile.

"In the beginning it is because you have to trust them. No matter how good a soldier you are you cannot protect yourself from every angle; there will always be a weak point. The soldiers to your left and right are there, practically speaking, to minimise that risk to you. But it's when you have your first real battle and those soldiers prove to you they truly have your back that the bond grows.

You will find on most lines the same people fight together because of it. Shield Sisters. You would protect them as savagely as you would your blood. Perhaps more."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

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"Do not...blame...yourself..."

His words were a savage slap to the face, and it was well that he was not looking at her, then. The pain, the anguish, was as raw as could be on her face. But it was only there for a moment before she schooled it away, burying it with growing competence beneath a cool mien that was a lie. All of the things I have tried to protect....are gone.

She breathed out...and then in. All the bad out, drawing the good in. It did not make the world a brighter place, but it helped steady her emotions a little.

"It is such a different world. So different." She shook her head, red hair shifting in the wind and gleaming in the sun. "I...cannot understand it. The Family is the important thing, for..." us "...the nobility. The Family, and the duty owed to the people. But among the Bursars and lesser Houses, there is nothing but savagery. Malleable alliances that change day to day, one cautionary tale after the other about choosing your allies and friends very carefully."

She would never have trusted any other Bursar for her safety. The only one among those of the mightiest to be trusted was the Dynast herself, may she live forever. That door had been closed to her, alas. Unfortunately, she had been cast out of the pantheon of the landed elites, but now she had all of the old enemies and none of the protections.
 
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Elijah

Captain of the Pegasi
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70
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"It sounds like a headache."

Elijah grimaced as soon as the words were out of his mouth and cast a glance down to his companion with an apologetic shrug. "Begging your pardon, M'Lady," people had had a lashing for a lot less and even if Lyssia was disgraced, her blood was still more valuable than his. If another Bursar were to overhear him and was in a particularly foul mood she might have him flayed just for the fun of it.

He turned them down a seemingly random street which then opened up onto the large stable yard.

This was no ordinary stables. The floors were polished marble and the stables themselves too with fine golden doors, lush kept flowerbeds, and grooms who walked as though they were nobility. Over the tops of the doors every now and then poked a head of one of the famous Pegasus.

"There's none of that here. Even with ranks, each one of us is here to protect the realm and serve the Dynast. One goal, one mind, one heart," he walked along the stalls to one where his own Pegasus popped her head out over the top with a friendly whinny, though her ears flicked back at seeing he was not alone. Eli smiled.

"She wants to know if you have food."
 
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Lyssia D'avore

Lady Fae
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260
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He couldn't know that her thoughts quite often ran along his own, at least in regards to the supposed superiority of her lineage against the churls that wandered the streets. As had been hinted at before, there was supposed to be something born and bred in the bone that separated her from them. "Do not call me a Lady," she snapped at him. She'd had all her titles stripped from her, and though she thought of herself as one, she dare not have someone of consequence think that she defied the will of the Dynast so openly. It twisted her inside to say it, though; she was supposed to be, but the right had been snatched from her.

Her mood lightened considerably when the path they were traveling - she had not been particularly attentive in where they were going - opened into the stables of the Pegasi.

She would never admit to it aloud, but she loved horses, winged or not. They were such graceful creatures, grand and delicate while being strong and spirited at the same time. She'd had her own, before the troubles. She absently wondered if Lace was well cared for now, or if the little filly was even in Dornoch still.

"All seek to serve the Dynast," she said softly as she looked to equine heads sticking over the edge of gates, many regarding her curiously. "Even I do, though she would not have my service any longer." She slowed as they approached the stall for his own mount.

"Such a beautiful thing," she murmured as she reached up to stroke a muzzle that was damned near at arms length. "She reminds me a little of my own pony," she said. "I am sorry, I do not have any sugar or apples, dear one!" So different with the pegasus than with him.
 
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Elijah

Captain of the Pegasi
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Messages
70
Character Biography
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Elijah leant against the frame of the stable with his arms folded over his broad chest and a faint, amused smile upon his lips. Yet another side to her. She was like a pair of dice with infinite faces; every throw, every new situation brought out a different combination and a different side to her he hadn't thought to find. This, so far, was his favourite. Those who were kind to Gypsy were, in Elijah's book, the kind of people worth sticking your neck out for. Perhaps it was a silly thing to base his loyalty and friendship on but Gypsy had been with him through thick and through thin. She was the only thing he had left in this world.

Which made her reaction to Lyssia just as important.

The Pegasus' ears twitched to and fro uncertainly and her nostrils flared as she took in this new woman's scent. Then, hesitantly, she pushed her soft nuzzle into the woman's outstretched hand. Once she was sure Lyssia's touch wouldn't hurt the horse lost all sense of modesty and began to lip at her clothes as though searching for the treat she must surely have upon her person. Elijah chuckled then pulled from his pocket an apple, offering it to Lyssia.

"Here, she won't leave you be otherwise. Her name's Gypsy."
 
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