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Post by Shyann on Oct 3, 2006 7:52:01 GMT 8
Zhi the Merciless: -The night had passed rather uneventfully, save for the moment that he had seen her from the balcony of his chambers. Of course, he did not dawdle out in the night for the sight of her instilled feelings that confused him. The night was spent without sleep, as were many nights before and more to come. Sleep did not bring him any comfort, for his dreams were always of her, always of the love he constantly searched. It was not as if he was comfortable without sleep either because the mind still wandered yet the visions....not nearly as potent.
So he simply sat still, mind milling over nothing until the night began to release it's hold. He would be ready for his travels long before the first true rays of sun and the cloak would be adorned, hood drawn up to hide his face. Nothing was truly visible upon him, save for the fine chin that rested just out of hood's shadow and the tips of black boots. As the sky began to lighten, he was outside, waiting for her to appear, anxious to begin this job. Lips would curl unnoticed upon sight of her, both in dislike and appeasement, for at the end, his score would be settled.
The ride to the docks was a quite one in one of the Pasha's carriages, a ride in which he sat with his head downcast, mind brooding the mission. Aratul was truly in for an unpleasant surprise. Such brooding was soon to be dismissed as the carriage pulled to a stop and the door was opened. The smell of the sea rushed in, informing him that the docks had been reached. He would shuffle from the carriage, moving quietly towards the small vessel that had brought them there. The oarmen of the ship would catch sight of his approach and bow their heads, though eyes would be casted indirectly towards the woman that trailed. None living had ever been on the ship who did not work upon it. She was to be the first. The leader of such men would stand upon the vessel's deck, his own black cloak bellowing in wind. "We travel to Avelion", Zhi stated, voice cutting as a sword in wind. "And we must reach by nightfall Nemnar," he continued, stalking past the man who nodded his head. "And accomodate the witch." With that, he would continue his trek until he stood at the head of the ship, eyes casted out over the water.-
Shyann kept her distance; walking a couple of yards away from his advancing form; staring intently at the expanse of muscles upon his back as his long strides carried him towards a bustling jetty. She carries little, a small satchel and there were no visible weapons, if any at all. Dainty feet, clad in soft soled leather sandal padded quietly along the damp, sometimes greasy planks of the sturdy platform of the old jetty. Eyes crept from left to right, taking in the many sights of the early morning crowd, paying little attention to the many lewd jeers and occasional straying digits.
A quite hiss ensued as she fought for control as a callous hand glided along her bared forearm. Swaying petite form from side to side, she manages to avoid the other wandering hands. It would serve her naught to cause hurt to these unkempt quarters, no matter if they’d deserved it or not. And she did not need the added attention. Being around the dark, tall, formidable assassin was attention enough. They had spent the entire journey from Pasha Bellani’s villa to the port in silence; Shyann focusing her mind on the long journey ahead of her with nothing but a few crew members between herself and the assassin. There would be no where to run.
His voice rang sharp in her ears, causing chin to raise, eyes widening to gather the sight presented before her. She flinches as he spat the word ‘witch’ so carelessly. For the life of her she could not begin to understand why it affected her so for it was not the first time she had been called with such a title. In fact, she had gotten used to it for she is in reality a magic user therefore a witch is quite what she is. But something about this man didn’t well with her. Perhaps that is the reason why him calling her a witch sounded so brutal in her ears. She shrugged, quite visibly, as she hopped onto the deck, nimble feet not making a sound on the dry board.
“I will not require any accommodations except with that man”. A slender finger rose to point at Zhi’s wide back before falling back to reside within the cloak. She stood where she landed not a minute past as the crew swarm past as they begin their tedious preparations before casting off to sea. Hazel eyes bore into the assassin’s back and in her mind’s eye; there were only the two of them on deck. “Why do you hate me so much?” Her mind would whisper to him, like pliable fingers reaching out to touch his subconscious thoughts.
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Post by Shyann on Oct 15, 2006 10:50:12 GMT 8
Zhi the Merciless-He would stand towards the front of the ship, brim of his hood swaying back and forth in the wind. The dark eyes would peer from beneath such, casted towards the glimmering water that was their way of travel. The crew worked ferociously to prepare the vessel to depart, for Aratul's estate was not close. And to be there by nightfall? It was an almost ludicrous demand, save for the fact that it was made by Zhi. Fear of him made such journeys not only probable, but actual occurrences. For his fury needed little to be invoked. Nemnar would stand upon the deck, eyes cast towards the woman. "Does she even know who he is," he questioned as he watched her point, face cringing in fear. He would soon busy himself however, unwilling to see what transpired next as Zhi turned.
The subconscious mind would hear her words well, though he could not speak through thought. She never taught him how to. Though the eyes remained covered, the intensity of such a gaze was not masked. If not for such potent malice, it would not have even been certain that it was to her he stared. He would make his way back towards her, steps slow and calculated, adding to the tension that had been shared from their first encounter. A tension that seemed to visibly thickening the air and cause hands to sweat with nervousness. Some members of the crew would wish to close their eyes while others would wish to be free of his company. Yet, they all still worked, eyes glued to their tasks, mind trying to focus on the now bellowing Nemnar. Zhi would come to stop directly before her, his hands folded within the black cloak.
The strength of his gaze would not abate, though the eyes would show no sign of ill intention. A corner of his mouth would tug into a smirk before low words would be shared. "You ousted me once witch and such did not invoke hate." He paused momentarily, eyes having found themselves somewhat captivated in her own. Something of familiarity..."It invoked a miniscule amount of respect. I do not care for you one way or the other...I simply want my opportunity for revenge."-
Shyann - She held her stance; chin raised in silent defiance. The aura of malice was thick coming from the man known to many as Merciless though to her, he is just another keen, if deeply angered and hardened, soul, searching for something or someone to complete their life. Of course, there was something else surrounding, shrouding him; a potent, dark aura. And a familiar one at that. Over the years, there were quite a few familiar auras that she had encountered. Some were friendly, essence of people and things from her past or places that she had visited in her many dreams or perhaps from her previous life. And some were just there to haunt her; her memories of pain and anguish.
His steps were steady, perhaps too steady. She knew that he was trying her, playing on her fear, if there was any hidden behind her emotionless stare. Indeed, she was staring to almost glaring back at his depthless eyes. As he drew nearer, digits would curl, a spell of old echoing deep in the darkest recesses of her ancient mind; preparing for the worst. She knew that the assassin holds no kind thoughts to her existence. She knew that soon after the mission, they will face each other again. But she also needed to know what provoked the deep hatred that he held against her. Surely it was not due to the little episode. Was it his injured prided that prompted this personal vendetta? His answer was on queue, but somehow there seemed to be more to it than mere revenge. “I do not believe you…There is something more, isn’t it? Who are you, Merciless?” She whispers though lips remained pressed together; a sudden gust of wind carrying the syllables to his ears, and his only
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Post by Indulgence on Oct 29, 2006 11:25:57 GMT 8
-He would not move from his position so near to her, as his eyes continued to stare impassively. He saw nothing else but her, no crew, no sky, no water. Simply a witch who once escaped, but was brought back to him by ill fate. Or was it an ill fate that brought her to him? The familiarity still tugged at his conscience and made him feel something remniscent to remorse to the way he talked to her. Unlike other women who had been slain at his hand, he noticed her as more than simply an adversary. His eyes would see her as a woman who held beauty, a woman with grace and talent that was somewhat uncommon in the current day of whores. At times, she even reminded him of her...
However, such nagging and the tinge of emotion were not nearly enough to change his overall outlook on her. She, be it pretty or not, was still a witch. Moreso, she was a witch who had defeated him. In his eyes, she was, essentially, a dead witch. He heard her disbelief in his words, for it seemed that it could not have been so simple. She merely ousted him...was that what invoked the potency of his revenge? In a way it was....in another, it wasn't. It was not simply the fact that she had defeated him, but the escape that such provided. Battle gave him no time to think of anything save for the moment at hand. It gave him no time to think of his own twisted fate...no time to think of a love lost. Not even death could release whatever curse had locked him upon this plane, searching for her. Only battle gave him an escape from the cruel torture of life, of love. She was right, it was more than simply revenge he craved...he craved a release from a cursed life that kept his love's whereabouts from him...if she was even still alive.
Her question would invoke another smirk. "Who am I," he repeated softly, head leaning forward slightly to cause the brim of his hood to cast shadow over her face as well. He had come even closer to her, though no physical contact was made. But, close enough for her to be able to catch the honey scent of his breath, hear the light breaths that he took in. Even the gleam of glittering brown orbs that peered out almost as a beast in a cave. "I am exactly what you said I am and who you heard me to be," he whispered vehemently. "I am Merciless, assassin of no heart nor allegiance. Murderer of men, women, and children if it be the case. I am one of fear's greatest allies, death's favorite hands, and life's prominent punisher." He stepped back when his words were finished and turned from her. His feet would lead him back towards the ship's helm and it seemed almost as if the tension in the air had died. For the time being, Zhi had said all that he felt necessary.-
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Post by Shyann on Oct 30, 2006 7:42:25 GMT 8
The sea breeze was all around them in the wake of the rapidly moving vessel; touching her hair and the flimsy garment of her long skirt with its pliable invisible fingers. His voice was echoing deep within the recesses of her ancient mind; his words ringing bells of wary though fear was absence. They merely touched her consciousness. She was past being fearful of him. They have met before. Long before their last encounter in the dark alley. She is almost certain.
They were almost out of the harbour. Seagulls shriek overhead, flying past the main mast, angrily avoiding the unfolding sails. Strands of raven locks whip across flawless cheeks and bright, intelligent eyes. Yet she dared to peer up at the imposing figure, staring past the cowl and into emotionless orbs. But try as she might, she could not dive into the seemingly endless pit of his twin hazel mirrors. It was as if there was a thick, translucent barrier. A frown etched on her beautiful features though she held her stance; his voice floating back into her ears, touching her consciousness. “What is it that you are hiding?” The words would invade his unconscious thoughts.
“Indeed..” She replied out loud though it was barely a whisper. Eyes remained locked with that of his. Dainty nostrils flared as she took in his scents. The frown returns in a second. A tinge of familiarity touched her consciousness. A slender hand begins to rise but then he was gone. “However, I know naught of you as well as you might think I do”. Her words continued; eyes following his movement as he returns to his former station. A gust of wind rises from no where and in a heartbeat, she was standing beside him, eyes peering to the horizon just as he. “Mayhap you would spare some of your precious time to share your stories with me? Besides, this journey will not end too soon” She offers softly; her voice was a conduit of innocence and curiosity. Yonder, the clouds were gathering.
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Post by Indulgence on Oct 30, 2006 10:16:34 GMT 8
-His brown orbs watched the horizon and caught sight of the clouds that began to take shape a ways from them. Storm or not, their destination was to be reached by nightfall. The crew knew of such demands, knew that failure to comply with such demands could end up in their loss of life. But, he was not unreasonable. Zhi would understand if conditions became too extreme for the journey to be completed in his alotted time, though he wanted to end the voyage as soon as possible. Words were spoken directly to his mind, once more disrupting thoughts, yet obtaining no response. He even heard the words she spoke of knowing less of he than he believed. He would figure it to be a lie, especially of one from Bellani's camp. Not know of he, one of the most feared?
A gentle shake of his head was offered in disbelief before her voice was heard to him once more. A glance was casted to his left and there she stood, without any previous indication of her approach. At first, the mind wondered how it was possible, but he remembered the moment after. A wielder of magic had talents that no other could attain. His tales? They would make time past by quicker for he had plenty of them to share. Talk of his past and the day he had begun his quest. Talk of his accomplishments, his decision to become an assassin, how he ended up working for Aratul? He could embellish the tales of his conquests and diminish the importance of his failures. He could almost humanize himself by breaking their silence and dispelling the tense air that surrounded them at times. A wonderful thought, beautiful notion that really could bring no harm. So his mouth opened and low words were offered.
"Let us keep our conversations limited to those things that are necessary for our journey...nothing more." The head would turn to stare straight towards the horizon once more, He was aware of her presence by him, yet paid no more attention to her. He had once more succumb to his quiet brooding.-
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Post by Shyann on Oct 30, 2006 11:37:47 GMT 8
A knowing smile tugged at the corners of pouty lips feeling the emanation of auras his tall, shrouded form was emitting. She knew that deep within his dark heart, beyond the self designed barrier, lays a sliver of curiosity that was steadily mounting. Her words, a simple request, or mayhap even a subtle invitation, had somehow touched a tiny soft spot in his hardened heart. “Aye, a story or two would not be too hard for someone as well traveled as you”. Came a whisper to his ear though no words were uttered by delicate lips upon flawless features staring intently over the darkening horizon. Though a moment passed when those tiers begins to move quietly and beyond the horizon clouds swirls slowly as if in agony. The smile returns to her lips as the winds rushes forth, spraying rivulets of salty water to painted tiers.
From the signatures of his mana, she could feel the essence of familiarity; something that they now both felt and shared, whether he wishes to acknowledge it or not. And since he was purportedly from the Far Eastern lands, he may as well have known or heard of her lost culture. Perhaps he would have knowledge of the last of her tribe. And even of the great Elk warrior. Though from the looks of him and from what she had gathered from the Pasha and little bits and pieces she had procured from the corrupted minds of the ship’s crew, he was no more than 3 decades of age and she had been searching for clues and the whereabouts of her lost people for 3 centuries now. Still, he was the closest thing to a kin she had ever came across since her reawakening. And the sense of familiarity was too strong to be ignored. Perhaps he is a reincarnation of a family member. His voice reaches her ears then, quiet and dismissive. Eyes rolled to her right, half expecting his to be staring murderously at her. Finding naught, she returns her eyes to the horizon, lips moving quietly. She was not about to be sent away like an errant child.
“A pity. A story or two will not cost you your revenge. And I still think that it would be a good way to pass the time shared on this journey.” She issued a resigned shrug before continuing. “Very well, if you so chose to be silent the whole journey, then I will suffer your silence as you will suffer my presence”. Her determined words would echo in the wind as slender arms rose from within her robe to curl pale digits upon the cold railings.
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Post by Indulgence on Oct 30, 2006 12:41:57 GMT 8
-He stood at the ship's helm, watching the growing clouds with a mild dissatisfaction. This would throw his appointed arrival time off. He expected her to leave his side in understanding that there was to be no extended relationship between the two. Familiarity or not, he wanted nothing further to do with this woman. Once the job was done, their battle would resume. Yet, there she stood, speaking of him having to suffer through her presence. Part of him admired such resilience. She would stand up to him unlike others who cowered beneath him. He would think of arguments that he had at one time with his love, reminiscing on her unwillingness to merely accept his words. "I suffer more than you could fathom daily," he whispered, moreso as a reminder to himself than as information to her.
A stronger gust of wind would blow, sending the hood of his cloak away from his face, revealing his distinct features. The wisps of ebony hair would slap against his skin with stinging precision. It was evident that a storm was gathering and that there would be a delay in their plans....a violent storm at that. For as he continued to watch, thunder clapped and lightning boiled within the clouds. The storm would only strengthen her claim of him having to suffer through her presence. Besides the crews main quarters in the belly of the ship, there was only his main cabin. The storm would force him into that cabin...along with her. Fate was once more dealing him a cruel blow.
"Come," he stated quietly, voice holding a tinge of malice that was easily distinguished. He abruptly turned and began to descend from the ship's helm, feet carrying him swiftly across the deck. "The storm may slow us, but it is imperative that we reach Avelion as soon as possible," he ordered upon his walk past Nemnar. The man could only nod his head before Zhi was past him. He was soon at the door of his main cabin, hand curling about it's knob and turning, allowing him entrance to his cabin. This was far from what he had expected...-
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Post by Shyann on Nov 6, 2006 13:23:37 GMT 8
Tip of pink tongue slithered out to run along moistened lips; tasting the salty rivulets as eyes followed his retreat from the ascending storm. Thick, soft velvet whips against the punishing wind as she stood transfixed for a moment longer before allowing dainty feet to follow in his footsteps. Down the short flight of stairs they went, passing the dumbstruck captain before moving further inwards along the dim lit corridor. But like an after thought, she glances back and issues the man with a shrug, as if ridiculing the command. And before her head reverts, a knowing smile was offered. The storm was not going to dissipate anytime soon and they were too far out at sea to avoid it. No, the night will be a long one and Avelion will have to wait.
She gathers her damped cloak around her, stepping carefully along the planks as her path sways from impacts of the maddening waves crashing along the ship. As they drew closer to the heavy door to his quarters, her smile began to diminish into a faint smirk. Oddly, she felt a gleeful laughter bubbling in the pit of her empty stomach. Despite the obvious malice in his voice, fear was absent from her mind. She steps into the surprisingly warm cabin just a step behind him. Eyes swiftly cast to the moderately sized bed before scanning the walls before letting her gaze rest on the strewn table. “How cosy. Do you make use of this vessel on your many endeavors?”.
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Post by Indulgence on Nov 22, 2006 16:34:51 GMT 8
-He could hear the patter of droplets upon the ship as well as the tromping of feet above. The hood would be pulled away from his face, revealing the stern visage and dark brown gems. Such gems did little to hide his discomfort, but there was no way to avoid it. Conversation with this woman had become inevitable at this point, it had been the storm's will. The candle upon the lone table was lit, casting it's light about the small room. There was very little about the place, save for a cabinet against one wall. A basket of fruit rested upon the table, as well as a piece of paper and a jar of ink. He was not one of those men who used more than what was necessity. His quarters did not need to take up half the ship, simply enough room for him to rest his head. Let the crew use the rest of it as they please. As long as they did what was requested. But this night, his request would not be met...the storm would delay their process.
He would not immediately begin to talk to her, simply because he had come to dread the task. Something about her made him comfortable...and that in itself, made him uncomfortable. The feeling of familiarity had not stopped in growth since their first encounter. It felt as if he knew her from a time ago, felt as if he was on the brink of a major breakthrough, yet simply could not put it together. And it frustrated him, perhaps more than the fact that she had ousted him, almost as much as the fact that he could not find his love. He would sit down at the table before them, hands clasping one another and back towards her. "This is my only vessel and suffices in getting me from one place to the next. I am sorry that it is so simple, but I am a man who requires little....it should beable to provide enough comfort to you for the night....no?"-
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Post by Shyann on Dec 11, 2006 9:48:57 GMT 8
She watches him closely as he moved purposefully towards the table; brows furrowing upon her youthful features as once again familiarity presents itself to her consciousness. Could he be the one she has been without for so long? But just as swiftly at the thought entered her mind, her head would shake, denying the notion. A clap of thunder broke the silence, bringing her attention back from her reverie of thoughts. Once again eyes would focus upon his tall, muscular form as he moves languidly around the almost empty table to finally settle his bulk on the chair. As his eyes seeked hers, she tore her gaze away, finding the bed and ponders about her options that night.
A snicker soon escapes soft tiers, though it was barely audible to his ears as eyes revisited the narrow bed. She knew then, that this night will not be comfortable for any of them. The thought of causing him more discomfort than he is already feeling, made the snicker linger on her lips much longer than she had intended. It finally relented, leaving a humourfill smile upon her lips as gaze found his eyes once again. Clasping her hands before her, mimicking his own, she offered a reply. "Fascinating, how someone with your stature choses to live with such minimal amenities". Her voice was a husky conduit of charm and perhaps, much more. "I am used to having less, Zhi. I have very little in my quarters in Pasha Bellani's castle. I am a wanderer, you know".
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Post by Indulgence on Jan 6, 2007 10:07:22 GMT 8
-His eyes did not waver from her as she looked about, nor did a smile come to his face as she snickered. He did not find this situation amusing in any aspect. One hand would leave the grasp of the other, motioning towards the bed. "Feel free to sit," he stated calmly, "And as soon as your need for conversation is satisfied, I will leave you be for the night." His head nodded gently as a reassurance to himself, the tone of his voice once more reiterating his annoyance in this turn of events. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he could do nothing of the situation, but make the best of it. Yet something about it felt too odd. Where did he know this woman from? As much as he thought about a possible answer, the more he became confused.
He took his time to respond to her, as he usually did, and let his eyes wander about the room as well. She would have his bed and he would probably write the night away, as he often did. For when he slept, horrible dreams would come once more. Dreams of a love he feared he would never find. His writing did little to ease the pain, for he only wrote of her...wrote letters that would never be delivered. For a moment, his head turned to look back towards the desk. Upon it was another one of such letters, scribbled in a hurried fashion on his way to the Pasha's. In this letter, he wrote of his journey to the Pasha's, wrote of his feelings towards the woman who had defeated him. He wrote of how much he missed her, as he did in all of them. At the bottom, it was signed as all of them where...yet not with his name. It was signed with the tears that fell from his eyes.
His jaw tightened at the thought and his eyes closed at the thought. He could not dwell upon her much at the current time, for he feared that it would show weakness. His eyes would open as he turned to face her, no trace of emotion shown upon his face. His shoulders shrugged at her initial response for he never felt the need to have more than what was necessary. This world offered nothing for him when it came to materialistic things...all he wanted was her. He wanted to laugh as she continued to speak however, yet refrained from it. He didn't know she was a wanderer, nor did he care. But, for conversation's sake, he feigned interest. "A wanderer? How did you even end up with the Pasha?"
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