"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
He whisks her away, heading into the woods and out of sight of the pair of Ischian diplomats.
"That was very rude," she tells @[Modicum Mortem], but offers no resistance as he directs her through the shadowy kingdom. The branches overhead cast odd shadows on the ground, and the sound of their hooves as they walk are muffled by the debris of a very old forest.
Lepis stumbles over a root that has grown out of the soil and falls to her knees. Her left elbow creaks uncomfortably, but there is no broken bone - only ego. She rises slowly, shaking a few stray leaves from her pale coat.
She turns to look at the black king, with whom she has had minimal contact with since her arrival.
He has a reputation, but she has not seen much of it. Lepis still wonders what the may things that Arthas had shared about her were; what the clown-nosed monarch might think he knows of her. She thinks of Arthas often, of how he must miss her so desperately. He will need consoling, she tells herself, comfort.
The thought rouses her gift, which has always been closely tied with her own emotions. The sensation of comfort settles over her like a warm blanket, reassuring even as she stares down a king.
"Ischia probably won't think well of us after that." She adds, referring to her previous statement and the way that they had left the envoy. "Don't you know anything about diplomacy and proper etiquette?" He is a king; surely he must.
Lepis is blissfully ignorant of any type of raising beside her own. While she knows that some kingdoms are taken with contention, such examples are extreme; surely most pass peacefully from one blood heir to the next. Modicum Mortem was raised to lead the same way she was, instructed and taught until she could charm her way out of a paper bag.
She has never tried her tricks on Mortem; she hasn't dared.
04-27-2018, 08:38 AM (This post was last modified: 04-27-2018, 08:38 AM by Modicum Mortem.)
Mortem is ignoring her.
It’s blatant, as she tells him about how “rude” he was being. His mouth forms a straight line, his eyes stay trained ever forward. He does not waver, even when he hears the child stumble and fall with an audible thump. He stops when she questions him, looking back through piercing blue eyes.
“I don’t care about etiquette, or your little rules about how a king should act,” he growls. “I’m not your mommy and daddy, and you’d be best not to test me.” His eyes roll over as he continues to walk.
“Even Loess isnt what you once knew, naive little girl,” An evil smile forms as he thinks about the connection between his lands and Arthas’. “Darkness is casting its shadow over there too. And you’re to thank...don’t think you’re much better than me.” He glances back momentarily, before he again faces front.
He refuses to meet her gaze, but Lepis was content to rant on; she is not unaccustomed to being ignored when Mother or Uncle Castile got too tired of her tirades.
He finally snarls out an answer, and the first part tells her he's an idiot and the last part tells her the reason why. He thinks she is a child, thinks that she might - for some reason - consider him somehow equivalent to the adults that had raised her. But Lepis has never had a a father to run to for help, and her mother had never been the best at assisting her.
Lepis learned at an early age to stand up for herself, and the strange smirks and empty threats of the clown king do nothing to quell her knowledge or her spirit.
"You should care." says the perlino filly. "You've shown them your hand too early; Sylva is too weak to put up a fight." She pauses at that, wondering if he will acknowledge that as a resident here, she knows that state of the kingdom's affairs better than those Ischian outsiders.
"If Ischia decides to quell your dark kingdom to prevent it from spreading, you couldn't stop them. didn't you hear who their new king is. Brennen!" Surely Modicum Mortem knows that name, the renowned general of of the north, master of the wind and snow. Lepis has no intention of putting herself into the line of fire of a hero from her childhood stories.
Maybe she'll be back in Loess by the time Sylva receives its comeuppance. She and Arthas can watch, side by side, as the Sylvan kingdom is conquered by those who do not want "Evil" to spread. The young mare is thinking fondly of her dappled stallion when Mortem upsets her brief daydream with something unwelcome.
"Excuse me?" She says, unsure how to grapple with the information he's just given her. "Loess isn't becoming evil. And even if it were, how would that be my fault?"
ooc: haha no need to apologize! im good with wherever this thread goes
04-27-2018, 11:38 AM (This post was last modified: 04-27-2018, 12:31 PM by Modicum Mortem.)
Her ranting continues on. Ischia has more citizens, he will get his, blah blah blah. He doesn’t have time to listen (nor does he have the time to care). His corrupted army was growing - slowly, but certainly coming along with poking and prodding - he didn’t need validation from a child.
“Did I threaten them?” He questions her without looking. “Did I attack them or did I even use a harsh tone? No. They have nothing to fight me for, save for the fact they don’t favor me. Politics, child, is all a game of wit. I didn’t give them any reason to attack me. Not yet.” He snickers, turning to face her again. “Your hero Brennen won’t attack without cause too, and by the time he’s given a reason, I’ll have the people I need. Loess will have the people they need.”
He is rolling his eyes now as she continues, tired of this girl and her dramatics. “You sacrificed your kingdom, gave it to him. And when he had it in his grasps, he made a deal with me. And he gave me you as an offering, don’t you know that Lepis? You’re nothing more to him than currency.” His words are biting, as he grows increasingly annoyed. He doesn’t even know why he’s appeasing her with a reply in the first place - she didn’t understand. She couldn’t. Her privileged background gave her no reason too.
Modicum Mortem’s chest feels tight - the need for his rage to be quelled burns inside him. If she was smart, she’d see the fire inside his eyes just yearning to get out and stop bothering him before it did...
@[Lepis] rushed phone post, sorry for any weirdness!
“Don’t lecture me on politics,” Lepis snaps back, emboldened by her own continued existence in the presence of a creature who, if the stories were true, should have chewed her up and spat her out long ago. He hasn’t hurt Lepis yet (at least, not with anything heavier than accusations). ”You clearly don’t know anything.”
At that, she looks away from Mortem, her dark blue nose held high.
A cold breeze averts a full blown lecture in response to the declaration that cements his lack of knowledge to the young mare. Lepis tucks her head down to her chest where the wind is not so bitter. Though autumn still has a hold on Beqanna (Lepis can feel that in the constant hum of her blood), winter is clearly coming soon.
She has never been truly cold before. Even in winter, the hot springs boiled. They heated the air around them too, and Lepis’ favorite was the cave where a small spring bubbled. The whole place was perpetually humid, and great icicles built up around the mouth of the cave, sometimes so thick that Lepis had to kick her way through them every morning.
No one will clear them, she realizes with a sudden clarity. She hadn’t told Arthas and there is no one else to do it. Wallowing in memory has allowed her to miss most of the king’s chatter. She returns just as he tells her that she was an offering, an object traded between kingdoms.
She blinks.
Then she tilts her head, blinks again, and shrugs.
”Arthas used the word ‘gift’ when he told me to come, though I suppose offering was more of hat he intended.” The exchange of bodies is not a new one; it is not even an evil one. Just now, in the opposite corner of Beqanna, two kingdoms are confirming the details of their child exchange. Those are meant to be temporary, of course, and Lepis was a forever sort of offering. She knows what is expected of her as a female gift, and is also grateful that she had not been quite old enough to fulfill her obligations this year.
Arthas has told her that Modicum Mortem will want her for himself, and so she has every to think the dappled stallion will arrive as soon. ”When you are of age.” He’d said. When you can bear me children, is what he’d meant. Lepis has convinced herself in the weeks since her arrival that raising children is an honorable position in life. It’s the best that most princesses could hope for: that some dashing stallion will keep her safe, or so Mother has always said.
She’s of an age now, she supposes, though the heat of autumn has almost faded. The young perlino mare shivers again as a brisk wind gusts past, and she sidles closer rkvMortem as though oblivious to the fire in his eyes. At least there is warmth near fire, she thinks as she tucks her small shoulder beside his and presses the curve of her hip to his.
Lepis doesn’t have a name for the emotion she summons, but the closest is lust. Lepis is more careful with the power than her Mother was, rather than simply dousing a target with emotion, she’d rather let it build.
Empathic projection, Mother had called it. Useful in all situations and best if left a secret. Even Arthas doesn’t know about her trait; she might have told him were she not sent to Sylva instead.
She uses it for a brief moment, the same instant that she presses her pale side against his. As is frequent, the same sensation is felt by the navy-maned horse, and she catches her breath sharply and leaps away from Mortem as though she has been burned.
She gives him a firm and determined glare, and adds: ”You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Have you never run a kingdom before? You need my help rather desperately, it seems. I might be inclined to help.” Lepis pauses and looks out at forest that has turned black around them, and then lets the pause continue, waiting for Mortem to reply.
hello so this post got much longer than i anticipated, my bad.
the summary is Lepis is basically super rude back, then gets cold/uses it as an excuse to get closer to morty and use her empathic projection. it can affect him or not, whatever you prefer. then she continues to be super rude, basically.
He wants to kill her (his mind is practically begging him to). He wants to watch her bleed on the forest floor, so he’ll never have to hear her mouth again. That is, until she touches him.
The feeling is one he’d never felt before. As the girl presses her barrel against his shoulder, he feels controlled. His body grows warm with anticipation, with an angry sort of lust. He does not want to harm her anymore, in fact, he wants to see what her plans are.
“Then how, Lepis, do you plan to help me?” if she was so inclined to aide him in his journey, he’d allow her a chance...just this once.
@[Lepis] ok so basically it works on Morty and he kind of changes his tune to see how she will help him. I’m sorry this post is poop.
Arthas' request echoes in my mind as I glare at Modicum Mortem, utterly unaware of the demise I have just so narrowly avoided. I'm to gather information, but if I don't intervene I doubt there will be a kingdom on which to report. I release a long-suffering sigh and toss my head, sending my multicolored mane cascading down my neck.
"For starters, you need to apologize to Ischia." I know that will not be something that goes over well, and so I do not pause before adding: "Even if you don't mean it. You can't treat their diplomats the way you did, then take two captives and not expect retaliation."
He had asked how I could help though, not for advice. This, I think, is perhaps how I could make myself useful.
"I could go to Ischia. Apologize. Tell them how much Krone and Jesper are enjoying Sylva's hospitality." Lie, in other words, lie and give Sylva a chance to grow stronger before the island kingdom seeks justice
I'm every nightmare you've ever had, I'm your worst dream come true.
Modicum Mortem listens to the girl, for once. Her knowledge is surprising to him, and he figures that this idea would probably worth his time indulging in.
“Okay,” He says. He’s not too keen on apologizing (he doesn’t actually care about taking Jesper, and certainly not Krone). “Go, and seek forgiveness. Buy us some time and in the meantime I will seek out new recruits.” He turns to leave, allowing her a chance to seek out the island. “And Lepis…” He murmurs as he retreats. “You’re smart. Use it to your advantage.” He isn’t sure if this is much of a compliment, not that he’s trying to give her one. Moreso, its a sign of his growing respect for the former queen.
