• Graded • Second Chances

[Navyri]

"What if I fall?"

Oh but darling
What if you fly?

55th of Vhalar, 717

• Navyri sat still, poised in front of mirror, the small ship lightly shifting upon the smooth waves. She had been skeptical about the process, but tried to hear the voice… The voice from the Misty Miasma. The man.
  
  We all make our sacrifices. I made mine, you yours, he his.
  
  She had heard him as clear as day. Not Belaera, not Garizma.
  
  Something else… Someone else.
  
  The Naerikk cleared her mind, darkening it with inky black like the shadows she was so used to. She imagined herself in the void, calling out, (Hello?) Curio gave her a faint tug on their mental connection, and while she was pleased, she pushed him aside momentarily. It was not the response she was hoping for and she kept searching. Still shadows surrounded her subconcious, and she heard no response.
  
  Had she imagined it?
  
  Had she…
  
  No. Everything there was as real as here. She had awoken in her bed, but she still had the Shrivma’s teeth. She had the marking upon her arm, like molten red chains stamped upon her skin, weaving between the swaying feathers of Delroth’s blessing and up to her shoulder. She… she had wings. Powerful and enormous - pearlescent with dashes of crimson, reflecting the light in a manner that felt… ethereal.
  
  It was real. All of it.
  
  She took steady breaths, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth as she had once been taught, (Are you there?)
  
  Nothing.
  
  Into the darkness of her mind she searched, imagining stepping over the teether she held to Curio and wandered past memories of her childhood. Into the caves she retreated, prowling like a shadow upon the floor in search of who she sought. Someone had been in her mind… She had felt it. And even now, since returning… It hadn’t felt the same. Something was here. Someone…
  
  (Where are you?) Her voice echoed in her own mind, and she struggled to keep her own thoughts at bay, (Will you hide forever?) For bits she sat motionless, her physical body a statue and her eyes closed. She concentrated on the quiet… On finding this other half, when…
  
  The sound of footsteps above deck tore her from her reverie. They were soft and quiet, but they still caused her eyes to fly open, and the Naerikk jerked back at the image reflected in the mirror. She gave a shuddering gasp, trying to pull back, her wings - mighty and uncontrolled whipped outward and knocked over the bag she kept nearby - sending the contents scattering to the floor. It was not the unknown person on her ship that had scared her - but her own reflection.
  
  The woman staring back at her in the mirror was not her. She was unrecognizable. Skin like white porcelain, her complexion was no longer lightly tanned or sprinkled with the occasional freckle. Her eyes were not blue. They were purple, with no irises - no end. Depthless. The Naer reached out, gripping the mirror and turning her head, analyzing it from every angle. The imposter followed her seamlessly. This… this was her. But what of her illusion? What trickery was this?
  
  The footsteps were coming down the stairs to her cabin and a knock resounded on the door. Navyri jumped to her feet, yanking the items that had fallen to the floor and shoving them back in the sack, her hands and feet still the same. Her wings almost got caught in a net hanging on the wall, and she had to pull them close to her body, still unfamiliar with their control. How… how was she supposed to fly?
  
  Slowly her emotions seemed to deafen as logic took over. She started to move effeciently, and considered the possibilities. Who was here? A friend? No. No friends. An enemy? Likely. Beleara?
  
  Navyri shuddered and tried to find something to hide her wings and yet the best she had was a sheet that she draped across her shoulders and bare chest. Unless she found a seamstress, wearing her old blouse would simply be out of the question. Casting aside the mirror, it fell upon her hammock, swinging the tired sling. Finally, she reached into her desk drawer and produced a dagger, creeping to the door in response.
  
  There was no telling what was behind the barrier, and since her last mission… Well, Navyri wasn’t sure if she was ready for what it could be. She held the blade close, reaching for the handle and took a deep breath. Turning the knob, the door was opened, stopped only by the chain lock while the changed Naerikk peered in paranoia at the visitor, “Ye-”
  
  The words died in her throat, and she stared at the half breed with little emotion, although a part of her, well hidden, would have dropped the dagger from fear if in control.
  
  “Can I help you?” Navyri’s free hand barely wrapped around the opening, her sharp claws visible in the moonlight. The room behind her was only dimly lit by a few candles, and she looked up at the leader Marrow had previously tried to introduce. Did he recognize her? She certainly did him, even without the parrot facade. It seemed Delroth had lost interest.
  
  Now… why was he here now?

[Noth]

It had been something of a struggle tracking down the location of the Naerikk he had met just outside of Etzos, especially given that she resided upon a boat as opposed to any legitimately permanent residence, but after many trials of dispatching his agents and soldiers to the farthest corners of the city, and of listening to them as they released the slight tidbits of information they had gathered, the hybrid had managed to narrow everything down to a single spot, and a single boat.

Actually boarding the vessel had been fairly simple in nature, and wasn’t really any different from simply stepping from one platform onto another, though he did take note of the way that the vessel rocked slightly with his weight, and he immediately questioned whether or not he had been detected by it. The armored hybrid ignored the possibility of it, knowing that it would not stop him if the girl knew that he was coming, nor prevent him from performing whatever duties he deigned necessary to perform. Knowledge was not power, and did not have the ability to stop power without some of its own.

The hybrid’s thoughts flittered back to the repugnant and ghastly debacle that had been their meeting. It was supposed to have been a rather simple affair, a few quick quips and discussions over their business arrangement, the shaking of hands, and a departure. They likely would need even have heard of one another for quite some time after it had all been setup, but the hybrid had been adamant upon meting the new recruit before she could be allowed to pry into the details of the organization. What had actually occurred had been a terrible consultation with the Immortal who had first facilitated the creation of his race, and the consequent disparagement of his identity that had followed in an attempt at making him feel as inferior as the godling had believed.

That unpleasant confrontation was partially the reason that the hybrid had not simply decided to relieve Navyri of any opportunity for duty. It had been made rather evident that she had some sort of link to Delroth, and the hybrid was not nearly foolish enough to allow the only link he knew of to one of his most hated beings to simply be abandoned. No, he knew not that he was not capable of trusting Navyri with quite as sensitive information, or anything actually pertaining to the godlings, but she would make an adequate smuggler nonetheless, and her link to Delroth would hopefully allow the monstrous Avriel to gather information about his foe before their next meeting.

Talons scraped gently against the wood of the boat, tapping lightly with every step that the Avriel took towards the cabin at the bottom of the stairs. He had chosen to don his armor for this encounter, not discounting the possibility that some other cosmic entity would decide to malevolently interrupt him, and so he appeared quite fearsome in appearance, crimson eyes blazing out from behind an armet of steel. The hybrid raised a gauntleted hand and rapped it against the doorway, listening to the slight scuttle of steps from within the bedroom as whoever was present within scrambled to make themselves presentable, or else to gather weapons for their protection; Noth couldn’t discount either possibility in earnest.

The woman answered the door within a few trills, the wooden gateway trapped by a small metal cord which kept it from opening entirely, and the hybrid gazed within the room, taking note of what little of the girl he could see from the crack. His sources had been correct in their investigation, he considered as she spoke, recognizing the tone of her voice, and whilst her flesh had changed coloration since the last time they had met, the hybrid was none the wiser, for their previous meeting had been conducted under stressful and dimly lit conditions. He could tell too that she recognized him, because her greeting fell away into the ether once her eyes had laid upon him and his terrifying visage, that slight expression of fear made him smile somewhat from behind the armet, and he knew then that she did not have anyone else with her in the cabin to keep her safe from him.

Her eyes seemed stranger from what he could see than they had previously, but he once again blamed the poor lighting and moved on, not bothering to analyze every single aspect of her whilst still entrapped outside of the room. What he did notice, however, was the claw-like appendages latched onto her fingers which she placed within his view, and he immediately wondered whether or not the action had been an unconscious movement, or whether she was intentionally trying to ward him away. It would have been a rather silly way of frightening the hybrid… he could simply slam his mace into the fingers and drive them through the door, but he was here on amicable terms as opposed to malevolent ones, and so he simply tapped one of his fingers obtrusively upon the claw to show that it had been seen.

“Hello Navyri, it’s been some time.” Several dozen trials, in fact, but specifics were unimportant. He vaguely considered going through the formalities of re-introducing himself, but decided that it would be a waste of both of their time. “I believe we have some business left to conduct, do we not?” It was not entirely a question, because whether or not she chose to work with him, there would be business to be conducted. It was simply the choice between the business becoming smuggling and the trafficking of items, or the business of breaking necks and burying bodies.

“Let me in, now.” That was a command, and he smiled behind his armet, wondering if the emotion would trickle into his crimson eyes. It was not as if though she could genuinely refuse him, because to not allow him entry would force him to simply batter down the doorway with his mace, and that would take him far less time than one might have expected; people did always think their doors were indestructible, and then it would have spelled doom for her.

Those same crimson eyes glanced downwards at what little of her garments he could view, and took notice of the fact that she had only managed to drape a sheet across herself before answering the doorway. Noth was a monster, but he very nearly felt inclined to allow her to change into something more appropriate, but he stopped himself from uttering that allowance, because that would allow her time to prepare further for his arrival, and because if she had to sit there through negotiations nearly naked then she would likely be far more obedient to his propositions than she would otherwise.

And so, the hybrid waited for his commands to be obeyed.

[Navyri]

"What if I fall?"

Oh but darling
What if you fly?

55th of Vhalar, 717

• “Some time, indeed…”
  
  Navyri did not move, her head cocking slightly as she eyed the man. Her thoughts were logical, more streamlined than they had been before and she analyzed the facts first - It was clear he would have some kind of distaste for her now, or at least Delroth, if it wasn’t present before their introduction. A night time visit, with… She noticed the bulge of the mace, and how his finger tapped her nail in acknowledgment, eyes cold. He followed it up with a command. She blinked and a slow smile crept upon her face. Did he really wish to enter a dim space with a Naer? Was this a shake up?
  
  “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Her eyes looked to the sky, spotting Curio perched upon the small boat’s mast. He was watching the interaction - she could feel his scrutiny - and Navyri unlocked the door, opening it to step aside. More moonlight filtered in, catching her white skin, and the eyes with no iris, and she was itching to analyze herself in the mirror. More importantly, could it be reversed? It seemed those inquiries would have to wait.
  
  Navyri shut the door behind them, the room growing significantly darker as she concealed her blade behind the draping of the sheet. The few lit candles gave soft illumination, casting elongated shadows that shimmered on the walls. Even with the darkness, the Naer moved easily, pulling out a chair that had previously been at the desk. There was little else to sit, the only other place being a hammock that hung by the wall, “Care to take seat?” she watched Noth from the corner of her eye, unaware of the shadow that played on the wall behind her - a strong figure, elongated from her body, appearing not unlike Delroth at first glance. The stark difference being the wings that extended from the dark reflection’s broad back, tied to the Naer’s feet. This was the shadow of a male avriel - the avriel and yet it lurked behind the woman and imitated her as she motioned towards the half breed.
  
  “Assuming this visit is actually about the Al’Angyryl, your associate mentioned a bit of…” Navyri moved around the cabin, not the slightest bit uncomfortable in her state of dress, and perched herself upon a barrel in the corner, “trade and transportation opportunities.” The Naer was amused at her scuttling around the word smuggling, yet shrugged apathetically. It was entirely possible this man had come to try and kill her. And why not?
  
  She had noticed his armor. Ready for war, it seemed, “Judging from our last encounter, I imagine you’re not very pleased with me. Had things not have transpired in such fashion… How would that meeting have gone?”
  
  Much had occurred since Delroth punished the man. She had seen the Misty Miasma, she had lost her eyes… She had met Belaera…. Unconsciously, she touched the red chains that stained and bleed into the feather markings on her arms, thinking idly of Garizma and his sacrifice. Her attentioned hardened on the leader before her, unable to meet his eye, but watching him all the same, “Naer are good deceivers, but that was not my intention...I didn’t call for him, you know.”
  
  These days, she didn’t plan for much. Things just happened.

[Noth]

If Navyri was afraid of him, then she hid it rather well. There had been an initial outburst, but that could be equated to a sense of simple shock instead of the more primal sensation of fear. He observed with meticulous and predatory eyes as she cocked her head to examine him, apparently coming to some conclusions as to how she ought to react to the situation before her. It was rather clear that she had noticed his light rapping upon her outstretched finger, and she formed a slow smile upon her face in recognition of it before promptly accepting his reason for visiting, and opening the door to allow him entrance.

He glanced inwards for a trill or two as the door opened to ensure that there were no other occupants within the room, and promptly strode inside. Crimson eyes followed the woman’s gaze as she looked upwards at something far out of sight, and he genuinely hoped that she wasn’t trying to signal to some unseen force that she was in trouble, or that she would require assistance. It wasn’t necessarily a fear of her that compelled him to think such things, but rather a logical understanding that if Delroth showed up again, then he would be doomed to a pitiable existence spent in a cage, singing melancholic dirges for the sake of the vain godling.

But Navyri? She was not a threat to him in the slightest. He had taken blows from knives and swords and garish and terrible weapons had raked across his flesh, had spilled his blood to the ground, had impaled, and stabbed, and rent his muscle. What could she do in comparison? Gash at him with her pretty little nails? What would that do to the steel armor that he wore around like a second skin? Make it look slightly less presentable?

He had been correct in his original analysis as to the nature of her body. Her skin was far paler than he had remembered it being, and he cocked his head to the side in mock imitation of her own prior gesture as he curiously gazed upon it. More fascinating, however, were the way that her eyes looked now that he could see them plainly. They seemed to fall inwards forever, an unending plain of purple without the separating barriers of an iris which occupied the eyes of man and beast alike. Was it some type of boon granted to her by her master, or was it some anomalous mutation which had erupted like those who suffered from Padfoot’s actions? Either way, he was remarkably calm given the oddity, because he has seen others before, and they had all been unaffected in terms of mental capacity and personality.

“Make sure that no one sees you like that” He warned, nodding towards the shifted color of her eyes. “The Etzori are a paranoid bunch, and I’ve seen them kill others for less.” He smiled behind his armet, though it was not friendly in nature, but rather the sort of polite smile someone gives an acquaintance or a passerby who happens to require assistance with something.

The room was still much darker than he would have liked, but he had spent the past arcs living within a cave, and so the darkness was not something that bothered him terribly. In fact, he assumed that he could probably see better in it than most who resided only within the light. A short supply of torches, and the presence of ambient light had kept him concealed in shadow for longer than he had been revealed by the hungry gnawing brightness that fire exhibited. Crimson eyes flickered to a strange shadow upon the wall, and he had to forcibly refrain from gulping with slight shock at the sight. At first, he had thought that it was Delroth, or perhaps some incarnation of his power laying upon the woman, but there were slight differences that made it clear that this was not his work. He might have called attention to the oddity, but there were more pressing matters at hand, and so long as it refrained from making contact with him, he was happy enough to simply ignore it.

“Much appreciated.” He nodded in agreement to the offer of a seat, sliding down upon it with contemptible ease despite his armored form, and promptly gazing directly into Navyri, his eyes visible through the metallic armet he wore upon his head as they ran up and down her figure, debating assorted thoughts and conclusions within his monstrous mind. She spoke, seemingly snapping him from his analysis, and he laid his eyes instead upon her own, refusing to move them for an instant.

“You are correct. We had plans of offering you work as a smuggler. You would be traveling between the city and Foster’s Landing quite often to facilitate the travel of goods.” ‘Had’ seemed to be a prime word there.

She assumed that he was not very pleased with her, and that elicited a short chuckle from the hybrid, a genuine one that rattled its way upwards from his throat and then burst outwards with sharp volume before dying away like the embers of a fire, smoldering for an instant, and then cold once more. Silence crept around for a trill or two before he responded.

“Not quite pleased with you?” He scoffed dramatically as though it were something repulsive to him. “No, I recognize entirely that it wasn’t your fault that your favorite person in the world suddenly showed up in the middle of Etzos, transformed me into an Immortals-cursed parrot, and then left me there to flick back to my usual size in one of the most excruciating experiences I’ve suffered in quite some time.” He chuckled mirthlessly once more, sidling himself backwards further into the back of his chair.

“Can you imagine what sort of monster I’d have to be to want revenge on you for that?” He smiled, and though the expression was hidden by his helmet, he knew immediately that it was expressed enough through his eyes. “Absolutely contemptible.” He uttered, his word-choice reeking of sarcasm, but his tone remarkably cold.

“But, since you ask. I’d like to imagine that meeting would go something like this.” He reached over to the nearest candle, snuffing it out with a gauntleted hand. He would proceed to reach for the remaining candles, snuffing them out one by one until only a single one flared dimly in the furthest corner of the room.

“Hello Navyri. I am the Prince of Eternal Mercies. I have no time for the trifles of those who seek only to plot and scheme with beings they believe to be above us, and I have absolutely no issue morally with snuffing out those who dare impede upon my progress with the same ease with which I cast a room into darkness.”

“I know of your kind. I know that you prefer the shadow, and I’m aware that you can do some fascinating things. I’m sure that you feel safer there than anywhere else.”

“Shadows never saved the others, and if ever we need to have a conversation again on why your Immortal godling is deciding to preen himself in Etzos, then I will put a talon on your face, and tear all of that pretty right out of it.”

There was no laughter now, only a passing moment of quiet.

“Do you have any questions?”

[Navyri]

"What if I fall?"

Oh but darling
What if you fly?

55th of Vhalar, 717

The man progressed with his purpose for visiting, and Navyri watched each light go out one by one. She did not object this, as Noth was correct. She did prefer darkness, but safety was a fool's comfort, as were promises. The intimidator left the last candle glowing and when he finished his spiel, she was grinning despite the logical part of her telling her not to.

“Mm, I enjoy your sarcasm. It reminds me of Augiery. Do you speak Gravokian too, terror? Such an overlooked art form, but lost in Common.”

Navyri started to blend with the darkness and closed her eyes so even their glow was concealed. When the flame flickered, it caught her skin, the woman appearing to fade in and out of the physical plane, melting and reforming with the darkness around her, “I do have questions. Teeny tiny ones.”

Her voice was light, and when she spoke she was above him, only partially pulled away from the room's surface, “You think I'm pretty? That’s sweet. Marrow said he liked me too. I think I am quite.. approachable given what I am.”

Navyri slid from her seat, going to the door. It wasn’t a race for escape, and instead, she mentally called upon Curio, and opened the barrier, the invisible owl swooping in with a gust of wind the invaded the small space. A few of the papers on the desk rustled and with her back to Noth, she turned her head, “But I think our ideas of casting a room in darkness differ. Allow me to demonstrate.”

This man wished to threaten her - so be it. He was good at it. But he was underestimating her, and Navyri did not enjoy disrespect. They would learn each other's boundaries with time or cross them too irreversibly to go back. Either way, Navyri slammed the door closed once more and in the same moment, the remaining candle was knocked from where it sat and replaced by Curio, its flame falling and dying upon the ground. With no windows, the little hull knew no light, and thus she slid across the room and upon the ceiling. She knew the layout well from her experience upon the ship and moved gracefully in this form, unlike the wings that felt out of place racing upon the walls and floor, her laughter bouncing from different points in the room, “Isn’t this better?”

“Now,” a soft sigh rolled around them, not far from where Noth was, “Must you shoot the messenger? I don’t know why anyone preens in Etzos, let alone someone I’ve met twice. Is that not like someone saying, ‘Hmm, Navyri, what makes the…” she smiled again, the sound twisting a lightness to her words, “Prince of Eternal Mercies, tick? Delroth speaks as if he favors me, but he does not. He favors no one but himself. Not for long.”

Her voice had grown progressively colder, not from anger, but from memory. She could see Arithzma’s memories, and how he had been alone. Abandoned. As had Garizma. One after another… And yet she had been plucked up…. Why? “I know this history of the Avriel. I have seen it. I have felt it first hand. I know of the First, and of The Forgotten.” The Unbroken. The Unbent. Arithzma and Garimza… the first was a part of her. She had his wings and his mind, underutilized, “I know of Delroth’s abandonment. Do you think I follow so blindly? A pet without a mind of her own? Delroth was not my immortal, not my creator. No… My creator is something far more terrible.”

“And there may be something far worse coming…” Navyri was still moving around the room, the eyes of Belaera burned into the back of her mind like a brand, sliding on the floor behind Noth, her dark hand reaching up to tap tauntingly at the mace that hung from the half breed’s side, before pushing backward. Her next word was laced with melancholy, “...Far worse.”

Upon the desk was a book of matches she had used to light the candles, and she grabbed them, “Whether you have interest in the immortal’s or not, they have power. They have plans. I did not choose them. I do not worship as others do. They choose me, my hand forced each time. Do not forget that.” she struck the stick, a flame burning to life as she held it up to her face, the one he had threatened to tear the pretty right out of. Her expression was devoid of emotion now, serious, “Perhaps instead of wondering what I know, or judging intentions out of my control, you should ask yourself why these beings, so quick to disregard mortal life, would look upon me. What is my value to garner such a fate?”

“I am giving you an opportunity to utilize my skill set, the same skill set that has turned the eyes of those that can create entire species.” She spoke confidently, “From a business standpoint, I think I am quite an asset, and yet, this doesn’t feel much like a deal. Perhaps we should get to the point.”

Navyri went to light a candle, hovering the flame just above the wick as her hand looked as though it floated, “Do you want a smuggler, or not?”

***

Gravokian

[Noth]

He was unopposed as he went about annihilating the light sources from the place and leaving only shadow and darkness in their place. He left the final candle glowing off in the distant corner, partially because it was too difficult for him to casually reach it, and partially because it would be somewhat difficult to hold a conversation with the woman if he could not see her whatsoever. She responded to his statements, apparently amused by his sarcastic threats and remarks. Curious, he had expected her to be far more afraid of him than that, especially given that he had essentially made a non-verbal statement that he was unafraid of her shadowy powers. She interrupted her own sentence mid-way through with a string of random gibberish which the hybrid recognized as language, albeit he was uncertain as to which one had been spoken. He was vaguely aware that the Naerikk likely possessed their own personal language; as most races had one, but he could not quite bring to mind what it was called or any of the rules for its use.

Since he was uncertain of what had been said behind his back; at least in a proverbial sense, he decided to keep his expressions entirely neutral, and to instead focus his intense gaze upon Navyri, not allowing it to flicker away for an instant. She faded into and out of the darkness enveloping them as though it were water that she was disappearing into, and the hybrid observed with mild curiosity as the shadow lapped at her flesh with greedy hunger. She shuddered her eyes, sending that queer purplish glow out of existence and further sheltering herself from his vision, making it clear that she did in fact have questions for the Prince. That was not unexpected, he had imagined they would hold a full conversation, even after his threats, because it was necessary if they were to facilitate any future matters of business and employment.

Her voice shifted direction, away from directly in front of him, and the hybrid raised an eye, impressed by her sudden disappearance. He had been paying rather close attention, and yet she had managed to somehow vanish to another point in the room, and whilst he listened, he could not fathom quite where she was managing to speak from. It might have been unnerving, but the twilight hybrid still felt confident in his coat of armor and in his abilities, and it was not as if though he had not faced the Naer in battle before. That had been a merciless slaughter, and he doubted that it would take much for him to repeat the events of that dreadful trial should it become necessary.

It was probably true that he was underestimating her, but it seemed just as likely that she was underestimating him. He had spent arcs skulking around in the dark, and even he knew that they were in far too small a room for her to fight efficiently. Hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike was only useful if there was a way to legitimately dodge an attack, and he mentally played through his options, coming to the grand conclusion that he could probably sweep the entire width of the small cabin in a single swing of his mace.

She delivered her speech as though she were trying to frighten him, calling into question his method of eliminating the light of the room, and the thought made him smile. It seemed as though his intimidation for all of its gusto had fallen somewhat flat, or at the very least had caused her to deem it necessary to try to strike fear into his own heart. Once he had recognized that, however, he made a mental determination not to show any signs of fear, and promptly tensed his arms along the chair’s own limbs, ensuring that they would not flinch if there were any surprises. What a humiliating prospect that would have been, a dark bird reduced to nothing more than a quibbling sparrow; he supposed it wouldn’t have been the first time.

She explained her own actions, and those of Delroth as best she understood them, though it seemed that she was not altogether familiar with the operations of the Immortal. Rather, it was made evident to him that she was simply being used as a pawn in his game, and that she had not truly chosen that path, but rather had it forced upon her. At least, that was what she chose to tell him. Time and actions would tell whether the words she spoke were true, or whether they were as deceptive as her race.

She spoke next of something unknown to the hybrid, but which tingled with the feeling of the arcane and the archaic. She discussed two figures; Arithzma and Garimza, and though he was unsure of who they were, he became acutely aware that they must be important in some way related to his species. She spoke of how her creator was far more terrible than Delroth, and the thought made the hybrid think, recalling what little he knew of the operations of the godlings in an attempt at remembering who led the shadowy women of Augiery. Audrae, was it not? Had she not been present at the battle for Treid’s Heart? Had she not fled like the others under the combined might of the host presented against her? It was a genuine shame that she had not perished like so many of her reckless and weak daughters.

There was further discussion of something far more dangerous than the other entities which would be appearing soon, and whilst there was little information granted, it seemed to fit nicely with the display she had made about the other archaic figures. Were this Arithzma and Garimza somehow connected to the coming force of power? Was it connected to Audrae who sat in her fortified place at Augiery? Were the daughters of the shadow coming forth to make another play on the world, or was he simply reading too far into the subject?

Her speech was concluded with mention of her value to the Immortals, and it was true that the hybrid considered her words in earnest. She had been valued by the godlings, which meant that they found her useful. They were his enemies, and so it stood to reason that even if he decided not to utilize her services, he should at least try to take her away from them so that they would be deprived of her talents. Yes, she was correct, and whilst he did not chastise himself for acting brashly; his words had been carefully calculated and this discussion had been necessary if they were to continue, he recognized now that he did in fact want her to fly his banner, as it were.

Light hissed back into existence, driving away the droves of darkness and revealing the pretty face of the young woman before him. Crimson eyes observed her features for several trills, dragging out an examination of her and her words before he spoke in a final conclusion of his thoughts.

“Yes, I do want your services. You are correct in many things, Navyri.” It seemed enough to the hybrid, but he continued.

“And it is an utterly drab thing to shoot a messenger. It is quite hard to find good messengers, these trials.” He smiled lightly underneath his armet, and outstretched a hand.

“So, then. We must work out the nature of these business dealings. What your duties will be, how you will be paid, and things of that sort.”

“By the by, if you’d like to get dressed, I can leave you to some privacy for a few bits.” His intimidation was finished, and so it seemed unkind to leave her draped only in her sheets for the duration of their business arrangements.

[Navyri]

"What if I fall?"

Oh but darling
What if you fly?

55th of Vhalar, 717
It seemed strange, to view a man who had openly admitted to killing her sisters and who threatened her own life with a relatively straight face. Navyri felt the suspense - the tension of the unknown and dangerous, but it was as if she watched the scene from a safe distance within her mind, her emotions, her fear, muted. If she could compare her mental state to a sensation, it would be like trying to hear words underwater - familiar and yet hard to decipher. She could identify how she was supposed to feel - how she should have given each the Al’Angyryl’s leader’s words, but all she could muster was a light amusement and logical reasoning.

Even still, the man smiled and extended the hand, agreeing with her. She watched him, eyes narrowing as she tried to assess any danger in his intentions and finally reached out to take his. The Prince’s hands were larger than hers and rough. In comparison, her skin was much softer, but her sharpened nails and his talons scraped together as they struck their deal. They weren’t so different, the two of them.

“Well then,” they released one another, and she took a cautionary step back, “It seems we’ve come to an agreement.” Navyri shook out the match and cast the burnt stick to the desk, the smell of sulfur lingering it the air.

She took a deep breath, and ran a hand down the length of the sheet that was beginning to open. She had no wearable shirt, her old one having a back that would not cater to her new wings. Shopping would be challenging, particularly since she doubted there was a tailor who would want to cater to something non-human, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m rather comfortable with what I have on. Now,”

Navyri turned and went back to the barrel, sitting upon it as if it were instead a throne, draped in satin and not a cotton bedspread, “Marrow said you were in charge...” She understood why, with his undeniable commanding presence, “No doubt smuggling is a profitable addition to an organization. Do you have any others? Smugglers, I mean, or am I the first prospect?”

She leaned back, “I proposed the idea that each job will require a contract renewal, of sorts. Pay to be negotiated with each new job, unless agreed upon otherwise. Gold will do, but I’m open to discussion. Sometimes information is just as valuable, don’t you agree?” she smiled, wondering just how deep his influence ran within the city. The Prince… as dangerous as he might be, could be an awfully useful individual, “Tell me… what do you want in this arrangement?”

[Noth]

It seemed strange to the twilight hybrid that he would end up working with a Naerikk after all, given their race’s rather rough histories with one another. He supposed that it was simply further evidence that he was altogether like his people, though he had certainly retained a few of their racial focuses. Nevertheless, it did not bother him so dreadfully as it might have bothered a pureblood to be found allying himself with one of the shadow daughters of Audrae, and whilst he reserved a fair level of hatred towards the Immortals, he did not typically allow that passionate anger to transfer to their servants unless they were zealous fools who threw away their lives. Noth had never truly subscribed to notions of racial superiority like his brethren claimed, and that particular lack of fallacy had allowed him to construct the foundations of an organization which accepted all types of people from all types of background, at least, so long as they lacked enough morality to accept payment for despicable services.

Good, it would be hard to hold together an empire composed entirely of a single race, especially given the many differing cultures and attitudes held throughout the world. It was best that he made it clear that there would be no discrimination on such lines from the beginning lest some of his underlings find it acceptable to abuse those different from them.

Navyri accepted his hand, he having removed his gauntlet for the shake, because it felt at least somewhat more genuine that way. Her hand was smooth, soft-skinned which was to be expected; her race were renowned for such desirable qualities. He ran a finger briefly along one of the sharpened claws which topped the end of her index finger, feeling the structural integrity in the simple touch, and knowing instinctively that her claws were just as sharp as his talons, just as capable of sliding through flesh, and of rippling it to shreds. Strange that they could be so different, and yet so similar at the same time, he considered as he removed his appendage from her own, returning it to the metal covering which kept it safe.

She recited that they had come to an agreement, a statement of reassurance, ensuring that the shake had not been for nothing, and the hybrid simply nodded. She sucked in a heavy breath, and he wondered whether it was relief for the negotiations and the fear-mongering to have come to a close, and whether or not her previous trick with casting her voice about the room had taken some energy out of her. He regarded her with a level-gaze, noting the movement of the sheet which acted as her own guard of decency, and his eyes flicked down with curiosity as it began to part before shooting directly back up to her eyes, determining to remain professional regardless of what was occurring with her wardrobe.

The Naerikk had stated that she was comfortable with her current clothing, but that seemed unlikely given what it consisted of, and he very nearly asked if she was certain. He stopped himself, realizing that it would be somewhat insulting to question her choices in the midst of her own home. For all of his terrible qualities, not every aspect of the hybrid was despicable, and he genuinely didn’t wish to insult those who would be working for him unless it was necessary to keep them in line; sometimes, it was.

For it being a bedsheet, she wore it with some apparent confidence, he observed as she slid atop a nearby barrel, her garment draping across her like some exotic silk instead of a measly section of insulating cloth. She spoke of Marrow, and how he had deferred to him, bringing a slight smile to the hybrid’s face. She further questioned as to whether she was to be the first smuggler, or whether there would be others.

“You would be the first and the finest, I imagine, though I do not believe you will be the last. Others will be ready in case we have a surplus of supplies which require movement.” He answered, nodding slowly to himself as he spoke.

“I agree entirely to that idea. I believe it would be fair given the services you would be providing, and hopefully it would mean that you are compensated properly.” He paused at the mention of information being just as valuable as gold, cocking his head to the side as he watched the Naer, searching for any barely discernible flickers of movement upon her face that might make her intentions known to him, but there were none. “Absolutely. Power without knowledge is rather useless, isn’t it? As for what I desire out of the arrangement… first and foremost, I would like a capable smuggler. Someone who won’t lose an entire shipment because of carelessness or greed, and who can get the products we give them to their market without much additional assistance, though some can certainly be provided.”

“Beyond that, I’ve heard that you’re quite good at… relocating items in the possession of others. There may come a time when that particular skill may be necessary, and I would be willing to compensate you then as well.”

“Finally, I need someone who I can trust. Someone who I know won’t just betray myself or our organization for the sake of making more nels.” He smiled mirthlessly at the thought, shuddering his eyes for a moment as he thought, realizing that that particular stipulation would require time as opposed to a promise or a sworn oath.

“Now then. Your condition. Is that permanent? I don’t remember it being present in our last meeting.” He was referring to the purple eyes she was exhibiting, because that would certainly be a damper upon her effectiveness in sneaking products around simply due to the attention she would garner.

[Navyri]

"What if I fall?"

Oh but darling
What if you fly?

55th of Vhalar, 717

“I am quite capable, and I'd imagine if the influence of your organization is spreading as quickly as you imply, then you should have no problems keeping me in line,” Navyri was not a fool who betrayed every person she encountered. To survive, one had to know how to pick a fight and with whom, “Coin catches my attention, but it's not what keeps it, so rest assured, I'm not so easily swayed.”

It was power she was drawn to, not nearly as easily obtained as coin. An illusion bwas one thing… and she had to wonder… Was this man the real deal or another imposter?

Navyri was thinking of asking if he had a shipment prepared yet that might need her attention when he commented on her condition. The Naer said nothing, a frown of displeasure pulling at her full lips, “It’s been some time,” she reminded him, referencing his greeting to her, “A lot has happened,” Navyri's voice took on a distant quality, if not sure she could speak of the experience as reality or a dream. The weight in her back felt heavier and she looked up to meet the half-breed’s gaze, “I am Navyri but I am not the same woman you met. I… do not know… Delroth's pet, the one that held you… there are more. So many more.”

She swallowed, her muted emotions fighting their restraint, “I fell through a place of wind and talons and screeching. I landed in a place of nightmares.”

“I met terrible things. I tore out my own eyes…” Navyri looked to Curio, remembering how the spirit had felt so despondent, a surge of memories flooding forward, “There are things….” Shrivma. Navyri grew silent and rose from where she sat, relighting a new match and walking around to illuminate the room. When the flames caught her face, her expression looked numb, “I may not be what you seek now.”

She was too obvious in a place such as Etzos. When the room had a soft glow, Navyri set down the bed of matches and moved to the center. There wasn't much space, but she took a deep breath and turned around, “I am far too noticeable.”

Before the Prince, Navyri removed her hands, the dagger she had been hiding now in view. She gave an apologetic shrug and took a deep breath, pulling back the sheet. At first, it appeared she would simply expose herself, the bare flesh between her breasts shown, all the way to her naval, but before she could present herself further, Navyri turned away and slid the cloth from her shoulders.

A great whoosh filled the small space as she extended her wings, brushing the room wall to wall, far too great for such a humble vessel. One of Delroth's first creations, adored on her back like a powerful decoration, they drew in the light, and breathed with ethereal brilliance. Pearlescent, they shimmered, speckles of crimson dotted along the their length. At the sight of Garizma’s wings, Navyri had wanted to weep at their beauty, but hers… hers were different. Hers were the inspiration

Navyri focused, carefully folding them in and used one her her free hands to casually drape across her chest in polite modesty, the sheet doing its best to contain her as she sought the right words, a tragic look passing across her face, “I don’t know if any of this is permanent. I don't even know what I am" Not quite Naer, not quite Avriel, "Something different. Something else.”

[Noth]

It was true that Al’Angyryl had been growing in power over the past few seasons, gradually culminating in the recruitment of several local thugs and gangsters into their ranks to act as soldiers and informants willing or forced to do the bidding of the Prince. Nevertheless, it seemed unlikely that they would be able to properly capture the thieving Naerikk should she suddenly decide to evade them. The forces that he had recruited were nothing more than pure muscle, the necessary numbers requisite for pulling off certain schemes or robberies, but they were effectively talentless otherwise much to his dislike.

Eventually, he knew that he would need to train them in the arts of war so that they would not be immediately slaughtered the trill that they encountered any genuinely difficult opponents. He made a mental note to set those plans in motion at a later date so that he might not instantaneously lose any skirmish to which he had brought the criminal scum. So then, in a way, Noth did have some measure of genuine power, but it was far less than what he displayed, and rightly so, because it was a seldom occasion that people were recruited by a poorly-manned organization, but rather one which they thought would bring them glory or honor or wealth.

He had expected only a very simple denial at the mention of her current condition, but instead she seemed immediately displeased at the thought, the expression tugging its way onto her visage. In only a few trills she had become quite distant in her vocalizations, as if though she were a storyteller entertaining young children with a fanciful tale, though, her tone was serious enough that he did not doubt for an instant that it was a particularly harsh tale. She spoke of how she was no longer the same woman, about how there were more of the pets like Delroth had used against him. He had suspected that there were likely dozens of such giant birds lurking somewhere in the far corners of the sky, awaiting the orders of their divine master, but it was satisfying to know that his assumption had been proven correct, and yet, there was more to her words, the story was not wrapped up in a simple acknowledgement of additional birds, but rather… other pets.

There was a place of nightmarish quality described to him, and savage actions which had been partaken of within that cruel place. She had torn out her own eyes, and yet it seemed as though they were present before him. Yet, they were far different than what they had been, and it raised the question of whether or not she had somehow borrowed some other entities eyes so that she might see at the cost of her own. Could it be that the shadow upon the wall of the Avriel male was bound to her in some ritualistic way, and that it now granted her its sight?

It had seemed that her foray into the past had left her altogether somewhat discouraged at her own abilities, and when the flame caught her face, it revealed an expression of numbness which the hybrid thought was similar to resignation. She spoke something plain, that she might not be what he now sought, but it seemed that her explanation and what had already been revealed of her form was not enough to convince the hybrid, and so she began to strip slowly before him. As the cloth ran down to her navel like a silky garment, Noth realized that all of the sayings of the Naerikk being extremely beautiful had been proven true, and he found himself observing her in whole, mentally appraising her in a way befitting someone more savage than he. Thankfully, she turned around, and all ravished thoughts abandoned his body in favor of cold professionalism, and, as her wings unfolded outwards, blatant envy.

They were as beautiful as their owner, and they glimmered with ethereal energy, as if though they were sucking in the very light around them, absorbing it to power their celestial glory. The wings were dotted with crimson along their length, and the hybrid found himself quietly observing them, his mind whirling with sudden frustration at the prospect. She was a Naerikk, and he was an Avriel, and yet she had been blessed with the gift of wings whilst he had been resigned to trudge upon the ground. It was an unfairness in its entirety, and he was thankful instantly that her back was turned to him so that he might writhe in silence. After a few trills had passed, he calmed himself with a reassurance that she was as distraught over the prospect as he had been, and that this provided an excellent opportunity to ensure future loyalty from her.

“You are Navyri.” He uttered plainly, arising and stretching out a tentative finger, brushing it smoothly against her right wing, connecting the dots of crimson wherever he could like a child does when they wish to draw a picture too grand for them to conceive of it properly. “You are a talented thief, and you will be an excellent smuggler.” He finished his ministrations, drawing his hand away and taking notice of the spiraling tattoo drawn upon her back, curious as to its meaning or purpose. “You do not know what you are, because you have not decided what you will become. There are no Immortals here to guide your hand, nor any masters to whip you into obedience. This is yours, Naer, the freedom of choice, the decision over whether you see these…” He softly tapped one of the wings once more, “As a hindrance, or…” He leaned closer to her ear, his voice a gentle grumble, “an advantage.”

“You are unique now, Navyri. Will you be unique in detriment, or in benefit?” He smiled beneath the metallic armet, drawing away from her once more. “Join me, work with me, and I shall help you overcome any difficulties you might have. I can help you, but, you will need to help me in return.”

“Do you agree?”