[13:33] The rattle of a cane is heard amidst the echoing halls of Myrdia, followed by steps and the clicking of sabatons as forwards comes walking a man dressed in long purple robes. A smile is placed onto wrinkled and worn features, an aged but still prominent man appears first-- Skin of silver, horns of mercurial reflection in the shape of a crown.. and flanked by two others.

One faeborne, and the other a Neries.

He stops across the pool that split the Pyramid's throne in twain, a placid smile across the features of what seemed to be a calm older gentleman with one hand made of a bug-like chitin. Despite his height, his horns, and his armor-- He did not seem all that intimidating.

".. Dor'alanor, Imperial Highness." The Armiger remains diplomatic, giving a greeting in kind. ".. might I inquire what your letter refers to?"
(Nadir Eisande)

[13:41] The Palace, or specifically named, the Pyramid is cluttered with traffic. A multitude of servants piling around, cleaning, attending several matters of the household, whether it pertained to discussion of schedules, paperwork upon the tables, the cleaning of garbs, or the preparation of water.

There was many discarded buckets set on the floor, bare of what had been assumed to be filled of water.

There.

Sheba sat on the throne with a broken arm rest.

"...Ullih, Nadir."

There is a pained hitch that ceases her from fully greeting the man, an agonized groan stirs out, as she hisses softly to herself, but aside from the aggravations of what ails the Princess. She finds her thoughts mildly disturbed by the idea that there may be a sense of worthless, not only upon herself, but upon her contemporaries.

"Sanctuary... has decided it would be in their best interest to become expired."

Forboding.

Ominous.

What did they do?

"Fluvials.."

The water pulsates, sagging along with ripples, before her reflection appeared at the end to look upon the three.

"The principle of Purity is most important...

Yet... I've been tainted by Sanctuary...

Scarred...

I cannot....

Not for one... Second.

Allow this.."

A servant would bring forth another bucket, in which was gently caressed, a ladle of water, hands massaging her skin.

She was going through a lot of moisture to prevent drying out.

"I want this wholly solved.
My discomfort.. is grave.

Xavier Amarti stands in my cells... And I've grown....very...poor in my patience and judgement."

She's making her problem everyone's problem.
(Sheba)

[13:54] The Armiger looks onwards to Sheba in silence once she does speak. The Fluvial's words outreach through the crowds of servants and middling attendants that travel through the vast size of the Pyramid. There's something odd about the eyes of that kind old gentleman-- A sense of cold calculation. Weight given, put in one or the other place.

His lips seal shut as his head tilts toward one side. Feet slide along the ground, travelling with a limp around the fountain of the desert mount in the direction of the throne room.

He arrives fully in front of Sheba. In front of those Servants feeding her water to try to cleanse through the stain placed onto her person. His gaze is heavy.

".. My hands are capable of even healing the death-flame of Varrach. The only thing I cannot cure by myself is death." The elaboration by itself carried a certain build-up of weight, as though it was to be followed up with something heavier. "... If you're seeking what I think you're after from me--

I can offer it. That much is certain. I am, however, not one for extortionate fees or terrible pricings. But though I tend to do it myself out of my own free will.. whenever it is asked from me, I ask for a simple price.

Invoking the Law of Surprise."
The Armiger dons a slight smile, adjusting his hands over the cane that he wielded while the robes of Delphinian Royalty are still adorning him. The Symbols of House Caewynn embroidded in golden threading across his back, both its golden phoenix and the florid patterns of nature, vines and butterfly wings.

".. It essentially means that I may invoke from you a favor, pertaining to something neither yourself or I know will happen.

Of course, that is assuming that is what you're looking from me, which could very well be not." Eyes shift from the various servants toward the claywoman once more, carefully awaiting her response.
(Nadir Eisande)

[14:25] ...
...
...

Nadir Eisande.

The Sarradian Whisperer.

This is not the first time, is it?

This was a familiar melody, a rhythm he had woven many times before to charm the vipers at his feet.

There.

He stands before Sheba, as her pained features, strained were beginning to recede into a throbbing dullness, as if her tormented stupor dispersed into oblivion. Instead, the bleeding quake of a swirling ocean bottled inside of her eyes started to deeply burrow, zooming in, and in, and in, and in..

Until the bottom of that ocean could be discerned.

A profound sharpness.

A deepness that is to behold.

One full of contemplation.

Had he offended the Imperial Heiress?

Two Empires coiled around Myridia, and the Sultana that sat before him did not shift or twitch. Her lips remained flat, as the pulse of life is overtaken by the hums of the insects, the hiss of the sweltering sun, the cicadas sing, and the shuffling footsteps of servants drum, until the silence colors that vortex.

The stirring waters cease, its motion petrified.

The lights flicker briefly, as the standing warriors look between one another, knuckles pale from coiled fingers tightly knitting around their polearms, yet they do not step forward, they do not cross their weapons to disallow Nadir's orbit to their esteemed royal.

Instead, steam emits from her translucent layer of water, as osmosis suckles, and nibbles on each pint of water being fed through her, taming that flame bearing devil running within her blessed form.

Slowly.

A flicker of emotion trails along like a cascading star within a night sky.

"...Soht so iht imeg auy hsow ut yelp?"
'This is the game you wish to play?'

The black curtain that flanked on both sides of her throne slowly dripped, and drooled into the floor, forming a puddle of ebon linen that drags out, as she slowly lifts up from her throne.

Judgement comes from the valley.

"E isomurp fu inovod duulb.

Teht so tehw auy kse.

Nu uwt snuotodnuc."

'A promise of divine blood.

That is what you ask.

On two conditions.'

The golden Sheba, wise in all of her glory, for such is a title bestowed upon her from her mother, and for that she is the daughter of a daughter, of a daughter, of a daughter.

An unbroken matrilineal line stretching back thirteen generations

Blessed be she is to be given such a responsibility.

"Auy tunnec ritle iht israuc fu iht rivor swulf htow klom, dne yinuh, auy tunnec hcaut nupa ym duulbifol, dne trivod to ut diif iht stuur teht deil ut rihtune iirt."

'You cannot alter the course of the river flows with milk, and honey, you cannot touch upon my lifeblood, and divert it to feed the roots that lead to another tree.'

In other words.

She cannot be surprised by merging her lineage in a path of matrimony, an event most holy, and sacred, yet Nadir must've understood, that such a rule is most imperative for Hajara walked a hundred years, and suffered underneath the throe of Loneliness.

Companionship is a divine search of fulfillment.

Not a surprise.

Her lips move, and the second rule is imposed.

"Auy kiis e imeg fu sisorpras htow e dirces rithgaed fu Vidrio... E didnicsid ligne. Iv'o nwunk auy ym irotni ifol irih nu Meranthe, dne iv'auy nwunk lle fu isuht ditelir ut iht rauf Dirces Sisauh.

Rauy ilpuip iriw e yrumim fu ym sosinig.

Iht tsrof ilpuip Iv'o rivi tim ritfe gnoib niket no yb ym riketirec.

Iterumimmuc to.

O hsow ut knord fu rauy gnoib, dne yforap to, us teht to nec ib gnume im."

'You seek a game of surprises with a sacred daughter of Vidrio... A descended angel. I've known you my entire life here on Meranthe, and you've known all of those related to the four Sacred Houses.

Your people were a memory of my genesis.

The first people I've ever met after being taken in by my caretaker.

Commemorate it.

I wish to drink of your being, and purify it, so that it can be among me.'

Erastus being here was pure coincidence, but he is the first one to have had the honor of being Sheba's first meeting after she made her first steps beyond the desert.

In otherwords.

Sheba asked for Nadir's blood.

It was an honor that she never gave anybody.

"Isiht uwt silar.

Fo auy nec idobe yb miht.

O llow idobe yb rauy wel."

'These two rules.

If you can abide by them.

I will abide by your law.'

A favor between sacred beings.

That is an interesting game.

An unknown certainty.

One that may come today.
Tomorrow.
Ten years.
A hundred years.
A thousand.
(Sheba)

[14:25]

The deepness of the Heiress eyes tear into Nadir's own eyes.

A price for a price.

To find a soothing relief.

A game of surprises.
(Sheba)

[14:43]
{Character Loaded, IC Year: 2216}
[15:09] The Armiger was not a particularly well known figure to many amidst the world they lived in. A swordsman of medium renown, a diplomat of relatively well-measured decorations, and a man in charge of a petty bridge in an otherwise vast and outstanding Kingdom. He was achievement-less in theory, with the only exception being that he served as the leading medicinal researcher within the Kingdoms.

But that was hardly what he performed his duties on. The 'Armiger' was not even a title people knew what to do with. Nobody really knew what it meant in full. A 'whisperer'. He's heard the words before.

Sheba as a Fluvial is well measured in her intellect, the Eisande offered something that was very clearly bold in implication, broader in terms and measure. Gilded eyes looked onto the woman upon the throne, the struggle she endured in order to try to clean a mark that they both knew would remain.

A stain on a canvas of gold, silk, and rare dyes. Like poisoned spices, rotten and uncared for. It wretched something otherwise pure and 'valuable', stained the pride that came attatched to her.

That smile remained on him. He still seemed like a kind and gentle older man. Perhaps rather than man now, he seemed more like a 'Politician'. The ears of the man, long and sharp, they twitch when the mention comes of what the promise should similarly fulfill.

".. Negotiations, mmh?

I will tell you the truth of your condition, your Imperial Highness." The Sultana is adressed by title first and foremost, with every piece of etiquette and respect that is usually afforded to her despite the clear transgression of the ramson held for her perfection. "You will live more than fine, without much to ail you in your life. Perhaps you will be addled by a cough once or twice a month by a week's length.

That scar would otherwise remain, however. The singlereminder of what I believe to have been an ugly weapon making its mark on you, judging by the cinder and ash you continue to try to wash away.

To no avail." he tacks on, almost as though wanting it to be of important notice for someone like Sheba. There's a given pause. Given silence. Consideration is weighed as he then let out a laughter of reprieve.

Of course. Her conditions had been weighed, and was his response of laughter made from mockery? No-- Perhaps more so the belief she would've asked for something else. A deep breath is drawn as he then shakes his head.

".. Sheba, Imperial Princess of the Golden Horde's empyrean heritage.

I recognize your divinity, but the truth is that while your blood is split by a thousand years of history-- Mine is immediate. You do not ask for the blood of Nadir Eisande, the Armiger of House Caewynn.

You ask the blood of the Silver Prince of the Grey Church. Heir to the broken world of Nereides, of the fallen star Acrux, to the title of Nostvale and the name which has been written off from history as 'Dreamer'.

Son of the Winter Matron Vinaska, bearing the essence of destruction, and righteous heir to the Lord Protectorate of the Martyr's Vigil. The 'Nicularantar', as 'He who Walks in Snow'." As black linen drapes over the throne room, a hand reaches out forwards toward Sheba, offering it. Not the one covered in black chitin in the form of a silvery bug-like appendage, but one that was wrinkled and slightly calloused from swordsmanship.

Sheba was a daughter, of a daughter, of a daughter, of a daughter, of a daughter.
Nadir was a son.

".. I believe you're bold to ask this of me. Consider this contract bound, and I will thus heal you so.

You will bear no wound, bear no mark. Your visage will be brought out, and you will bear the imperious nature from which you were born with naturally. It will be as though you were never wounded at all.

And then the Law will remember your promise." A hand reaches out toward his belt, placing his cane toward his side. No doubt the several guards whom are white knuckled holding onto their weapons would react sourly to a dagger suddenly being drawn.

The Armiger remained calm, as both the dagger and the hand are offered to Sheba. "Draw. I will work while you do."
(Nadir Eisande)

[15:17]
{Character Loaded, IC Year: 2216}
[15:17]
{Character Loaded, IC Year: 2216}

[15:58] The truth is:

Such a slight could never be ignored by Sheba, as meaningless as it might be.

Her ego.

Her importance of that 'divine' lineage.

Of that purity.

Of her virtuous self! Of what could be described as that sort of perfectness.

Nay.

She knew of the thousands year split between herself, and her people. She is smart.

A Fluvial.

And that is what disturbs her the most.

The suffered dilution, as she hid behind, draping in a history of gold long lost through the centuries. Of a time when the Divine War had many great, powerful beings fighting upon wastelands, and a time when her people wandered ignorant of those woes. Right before Vidrio's divine wings.

Sheba stood there, her attention collected over Nadir.

There is a subtle twitch of displeasure.

To her... What is a god to an angel?

A dreamer to someone that wove life with their very hand.

Nothing, but sheis not that angel. She has been made once to look upon someone up high, twice, to be underneath their boot, and thrice, to be reminded of it all.

Nadir should expect this boldness.

She has never changed.

Perhaps that is what made Sheba interesting.

Her inspiring confidence.

A desperate breath is collected, before a sharp hiss slips free. Bundled up of all her frustrations, and pains.

... So insignificant to an average flea.
Something that could be... Tolerated...

But Sheba isn't that.

A little Sarradian...

Her hand pours out to meet Nadir's, sliding underneath his, to gently hold.

Throughout the pain that rummaged inside of her.
She held herself composed, albeit with her hand trembling, causing a stir within Nadir. A step forward is taken by the guards as a dagger is retrieved, but they still themselves.

Soon. Clay colored fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of thedagger.

"Soht wel llow tun ib ne icnionivnucno ut im."
'This law will not be an inconvenience to me.'

Her hopes is for the surprise to not be such a burden, or come at a burdensome time, but neither her or Nadir knew what would come of this, save for the Armiger's decision to invoke the contract at whichever time he so pleases.

Luckily...

Nadir is dealing with House Fluvial.

The House of Law.


Like a viper, the serpent's fangs prick, and begin to crumple past flesh, and skin, separating it, as the dagger cleanly weaves past Nadir's palm, while the Fluvial's eyes begin to slowly descend into a close. Briefly, does an illumination pour from underneath her own skin, thumping with a hearty whisper of a depths of lineage so far flung from Avalon.

It is that connection to the icon of Vidrio, but not so quite directed to the Divine Lady, for her presence has long since vanished, yet her memory laid within a desecrated temple.

Globs of royal blood seeps freely, bubbling out in a healthy amount.

The Silver Prince

&

The Golden Princess.

Hand in hand.

Her own blood slowly reacted, as her lips push softly to breathe a cool air to alleviate the burn, and in which, that blood comes out like a stream, a river of mercury.

Not a single droplet falls from Nadir to the ground.

Instead, the blood falls over the stage in which held his hand, her very own hand, as her own blood started to filter into his hand, to begin closing it.

Her sacred form started to absorb the blood, and at first, there is a brief pause, as she feels herself choking. This new substance, it brings forth a glow to her opening eyes.

'Mine is immediate.'

So farflung below, yet to a group that came close to rebuilding decades ago... They were whispers in the sand, with names that have become forgotten.

The Fluvial sharply sucks in the air, as all of that free blood flows.

Purification Glands filter throughout, and her heart begins to thump and pump to regulate the foreign substance.

Such an exalted..

Prestigious ichor.

One that may have been poisonous, if not at all something she is used to.

She could feel the flow of her blood become slow, as if becoming thick, clots of water forming throughout the streams, as she adjusted.

It as if her blood became colder, almost freezing.

It is a preparation that she had steeled her body for when it came to fighting others.

The same here is a fight for her purity.

The shattered princess would collect herself through any means necessary.

"..A promise to remember then."

Her purity..

She will never lose it again.
(Sheba)

[16:24] How many had the privilage of being able to play cunning schemes with a Fluvial? How many more had the ability to get something out of such games at all? Two vipers, one of silver mirrored colors with an obnoxiously cunning and camoflauged nature, and the other of gilded empyrean notes with overflowing pride and immolating personality.

Their stations reflected what the two princes were like indeed.
A servant to a house, a handmaiden to family.
An heir to an empire, a lineage of untouched divinity.

As Sheba takes the hand of the Armiger and soon wraps her fingers around the dagger offered to her, the horns atop his head begin to shimmer a strange color. Accompanied by a hum and a somantic and vocal gesture the waters behind them seem to shimmer and transform. Was Nadir some form of water mage? Certainly not.

But water was the flow of all life. That which was first formed, alongside fire.

The dagger finds its mark among the once-slender hands of the Armiger, now turned slightly boney with higher age. A reflective quicksilver reaches out in that same breath as the skin of the man seemed to be softer than most without any magical protection to back it. Almost as though that skin was made of clay too.

It melded with the blood for a moment, as though part of one whole. Soon enough, the stream of mercury drops and travels without waste toward Sheba. Blood was water in of itself, and such was very well capable of leading mana along with it.

A flicker of jade color travels through it for a moment.

It burns at first, at her chest-- Destruction was not an easy pill to swallow in large continious amounts, especially when it was so pure. Nadir was not the child of 'one' god, afterall. ".. you're doing exceptionally well." is afforded as a compliment while the lifeblood of the Sarradian mixes with the lifeblood of the Neries.

It is not drawn from some supernatural well, but its density in mana is obscene. Hundreds of blessings woven into eachother to form one being all travel through her, as the sight of the water stirring from the pool finally unveil.. A fish.

A fish made of jade energies travels out from the pond, invoked. A spirit that is drawn from Terraheim itself, one of Kraus' very own agents within its creation. From its mouth, something drops. A single droplet which falls onto the Princesses' head and sudddenly--

Relief.

Winter itself absorbed, the glands in her body finally working to their full extent as something in this way is drawn out of her by the Armiger. His other hand reaches out, as it then touches upon the Imperial Princess' forehead. It is a gentle tap, and one that all but very suddenly--

Washes it all away.

...

Silence is afforded soon enough as the wound from the Armiger closes by itself. Its ichor once sealed again into the vessel of the man as he walks toward the nearby cane and grabs it once more. He taps it against the ground a couple of times as the Koi fish in the air suddenly twirls around and grows smaller--

Before falling into the Rushui adornment around the man's neck once more. The pearl within its center resonating. Something about Sheba had been unlocked.
(Nadir Eisande)

[16:24] Nadir Eisande says, ".. With this, my side of the ordeal is complete."
[16:35] Carina asks, "What's all this?"
[16:36] Faron, who is currently beaten, bruised, bleeding from crystalline shards stuck in his back, and also experiencing a nosebleed...

Simply smiles and shrugs. He tries to lean against one of the pillars.
He eats shit and falls forward on the ground, instead.
(Faron)

[16:36] Faron says, "Ahaa.."
[16:36] Carina chuffs and looks at the boy.
(Carina)

[16:38] A miracle for a miracle.

In what felt like an inferno wasting upon her chest, a searing heat that lunged through her limbs the moment that flicker of jade brushed her skin. All throughout, that sensation collapsed across her system.

Purity.

It is the most important aspect.

Two rivers conjoin to fill an ocean.

And once the droplet trickles down upon her crown, does its ripples dispel the agony.

All of the horrors.

All of the impurities.

They disintegrate underneath the hand of miracles, and for it, a light that glows underneath Sheba's skin, flushed with life. Her eyes tremble slightly, as her skin doesn't wail in anguish, the moisture in the air drags through her body, filtering clearly, such a clean air.

She wasn't choked by it.

The memories of the unfortunate rotten fruit.

It no longer matters.

She isn't to be reminded of such crimes.

A gasp of relief is sounded.

"...No more...

Am I impure.."

The servants bow to their Heiress, and the Sarradian slowly clenches her hand into a closed fist.

The sins have washed away, but are they truly forgiven?

But she has not forgotten the entire package.
As unsavory as it might be to 'submit' to something out of her control.

"Then...

The contract."
(Sheba)

Edit

Pub: 29 Mar 2026 23:44 UTC

Views: 8