Fate - First Reply Time to blow something up.

[Faustina]

Faustina kept silent with Thraah, listening. The battle was over. She almost dared not believe it.

"Thank the Sunfather. Well, it seems we have managed to avoid more bloodshed today, at least. That must at least count as less--" Faustina searched for a word to replace the profane one. A sheepish smile carefully crept to her lips. "Less terrible."

The bells around her neck jingled softly, her robes rustling as she moved hastily for the exit.

"I should go back and ensure they follow your directions. I--"

No.

The voice rung in her head like a gong. More forceful than it had ever been. Faustina froze in her tracks, hand on the tent-flap.

Your people are safe. You must go with the captain. Learn her ways. Make her see the light. When the spear blooms a flower and grace is born in the bower; then you will have completed your exaltation and saved the captain from purgation.

 

[Thraah]

"Hey!"

Thraah's hand waved before Faustina's face and she clicked her fingers three times.

"You good? Do need to sit down or something?"

Watching the other woman go away for a moment frightened her and the concern showed on her face.

"Yeah the fighting is over so like, relax a minute or whatever. You can't negotiate if you can't stay awake!"

To her it looked as though Faustina just had a micro nap or some other form of brief fainting episode.

Faustina

 

[Faustina]

Bronze eyes blinked, before snapping back to clarity.

"Wh-- oh, forgive me."

She held a delicate hand to her temple, rubbing against the invisible nail that seemed lodged there.

"Was I out for long?"

Thraah

 

[Thraah]

"Just a moment but I think you should take a seat all the same."

Gently Thraah ushered Faustina onto the sole chair in her tent and knelt beside her, hand on her arm for what reassurance she could offer. Without much effort at all she lowered the temperature of the tent interior fearing a fever or a flush might be responsible.

"You don't seem that surprised, does this happen often?"
Whatever the cause Thraah could not imagine it was good, let alone divine.

Faustina

 

[Faustina]

Sitting down, Faustina rubbed her forehead. The pain had . . . intensified, compared to other times.

"Yes, I'm afraid so . . ." she mumbled. Some of the cleric had bled from her voice, making way for the village girl she had once been. She took her time to get her bearings, and to attempt to make sense of what the saint had told her.

She was to follow . . . this Anirian? But -- why? What good could that serve?

No. She shouldn't question the voice. It had led her this far, and to even consider the shadow of doubt before the Sunfather was to spit on His name. Destiny had led her this far, hadn't it? All she needed to do was to submit. Help her see the light.

Finally, she raised her head, strands of hair loose from her braids, hanging over her face. She willed herself to look straight at Thraah.

"I think . . . I think I need to follow you, Captain. In -- well, wherever it is you are to go."

Thraah

 

[Thraah]

Thraah's brow furrowed in concern. This was more god-stuff and all she saw was a woman who had a great deal of courage, an understandable amount of nerves and terrible headaches.

And Thraah had plans for her next destination that she felt would not suit Faustina.

"Your Sun-god told you to follow me through a headache...right I..."

*I don't want some loony following me.*

"...you need to rest and I am returning to the Vels after we take your town."

Faustina had no idea what that would be like but Thraah reasoned she should try to explain it anyway.

"You don't want to be there, you'll be seen as a spy or a threat and I can protect you but I already protect my Momni and my sisters and..."

*So what's one more person?*

Her rant lost steam and she looked away to the chair legs and the ground and the tent top.

"... fuck! Okay, I guess I can stash you at my place. It's..."

*A mansion outside the most racist hateful city in all the world.*

"... big and there's a room you can have. Can you cook?"

The question was more to seem easier with the idea than she felt.

Faustina

 

[Faustina]

Faustina blinked, looking innocently and intently at Thraah as she went through her own obstacle course of decision making. Finally, when Thraah offered her a place in her mansion, Faustina gained a hopeful smile, lighting up her features as if the Sun God Himself shone on it; bronze eyes glittering like big, round disks in the lamplight.

It was more than the hopeful smiles that might come from the prospect of living in luxury, or that of a spy gaining a foothold in an Anirian household. Rather, it was the relieved smile of someone fearing to fail their creed, their god and their sisterhood, but now seeing a chance to fulfill the pledge of divine command.

"Oh, well, yes. I can. All sisters of St. Gailus learn to do so. Thank you, Captain. I won't let you down!"

Her voice had again gained the timbre of the young girl she was rather than the monja she was supposed to be. In the privacy of her mind, she made the same promise to her guardian angel: I won't let you down.

The voice didn't respond. But she could feel His presence, like a warm blanket wrapped over her shoulders, soothing and assuring her.

Thraah

 

[Thraah]

"Yeah, yeah look don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the Vel's."

The noble folk weren't likely to take lightly to a Cortosi holy woman suddenly living among them.

"Just don't try to convert anyone or anything okay? Folk will make trouble for you if you do."

Standing, up Thraah checked her timepiece again.

"We better get going. The commanders will be back soon. I'll present your terms and they'll accept unless they're suddenly taking it personal but it should be okay now that the fighting has stopped."

Looking down she scrunched her face.

"Are you alright to stand for a bit?"

Faustina

 

[Faustina]

Faustina stood up shortly after Thraah, now excited. Eyes wide with anticipation — and more than a little nervous dread.

"Yes, I am!" she near shouted. Clearing her throat, she purposefully lowered her voice, a blush creeping up on her cheeks with her realisation of her own volume. "I mean, of course. Let us meet them, then."

Leaving the tent, Thraah and Faustina moved through the camp, meeting the incoming escadron of commanders and their attendants cantering into camp on horseback.

Thraah

 

[Thraah]

Thraah took a deep breath and steadied herself before the other leaders.
They outranked her in Command but many of them gave deference to her Dreadlord status as she let them know of Faustina's terms.

The talks took a while and before long they were in the command tent sitting about a table, Thraah was of course known to Faustina now but the three others who came with their attendees were each menacing in their own way.
Gavain had an eyepatch covering a brutal scar of some sort and a large well groomed moustache. He was the oldest and seemed the most surprised but the least objecting to the proceedings.
Mirana stared daggers at Faustina and spoke little but her appearance was almost otherworldly as her hair seemed entangled with green thorned vines which surrounded her sharp ruthless looking face. There was blood drying on her fingers.
Lastly there was Donovon who might have been the youngest there after Thraah herself. His disposition was more about securing wealth from the proceedings. At ever turn he pressed for tribute and spoils. It seemed he had little mind for anything else.

"So there it is."
Thraah seemed to finish after explaining the terms Faustina had given her under suggestion from herself but she of course made out like it was all from the Priestess.
The four Dreadlords all turned to Faustina then expectantly before Thraah leaned in to her ear.

"Ahem, there are waiting for you to state your case, make a plea for the people and all that. Make it sound official!"

Leaning back into her seat Thraah gave Faustina an encouraging look.

Faustina

 

[Faustina]

Spoiler: Music

Faustina jerked into attention. She banged her knee below the table -- so scattered were her nerves. Gavain and Mirana frightened her, but perhaps Mirana most of all, given her overt hostility. She suddenly began wondering what the Radiant Church and what the Cortos kingdom would have to say to her negotiations with the enemy. She was acting under her own authority, with no time to wait for missives or raven-bound messages. And she was thinking on her feet, the last soul to attempt to take charge of the situation and spare as many lives as possible.

Speaking of feet, she thought it prudent to rise from her seat. To aid in giving her an air of authoritiy -- or at least a shred of it -- and perhaps to silence her own fretting nerves.

"You have heard our terms. We have had enough bloodshed. Whether you believe in divine will or not, there is no reason to waste any more life. To see more families suffer, more children die, more daughters and sons to perish before their time," this she directed at Gavain, counting on the fact that he might have a daughter, a son or both. "More graves do not add to more spoils. The only tally they increase is grievance -- and resistance. Gold is given freely for lives, which is infinitely more valuable, and so mercy is the better policy," she implored this of Donovan, catching on to his mercantile motivations well enough. Her rashes were beginning to itch below her jewelry, especially her bangles, but she resisted the urge to scratch them, and forced herself to look Mirana in the eye, who had been observing her like a hawk. "These people live on the edges of Cortos, caught in a war not of their own choosing. In such matters, mercy is the higher grace over decimation. The people will more readily accept a ruler that can allow them to live in peace and stability." Faustina's eyes widened involuntarily at the sight of blood still drying on Mirana's fingers, and swallowed, wondering how on earth she could reach a killer with her rhetoric. Gavain and Donovan she hoped to touch on notions of family and coin, but this one? She didn't know enough about her to decide upon the best form of persuasion. But she had to try, and so, steeling herself, she leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the table, looking at Mirana's forehead and prismatic hair rather than her eerie eyes. A handy technique to feign eye-contact.

"There is little honor in killing a defeated foe. I understand Vel Anir and Anirians to be dangerous, efficient in matters of war and sceptical of both gods, kings and queens alike. But dishonorable? This I have rarely heard. I hope not to hear it soon."

Her hands were shaking. Sweat perspired her brow and was running down her back below her robes, the stares of the three commanders feeling as oppressive as a trinity of suns, baking her in the heat of their judgement. Thraah was, strangely, a comfort in this -- a trusty aide by her side, a cool waft of fresh air. She had never thought she would feel this way about an Anirian; much less a captain and soldier.

"That is all," Faustina finally mumbled, resuming her seat; and praying to the Sunfather that she had succeeded.

Thraah