Blue sapphires stare down at a plated man; his armor was bright, and his visage was handsome- but this man had been slain. As the young woman stood over the fallen knight with tears pooling at her eyes, looking to the fallen soldier, a fallen loved one, something inside of Erythis Firestorm broke. Where there was once a youthful arcanist, there was now someone who knew the evil of the world. "Brother..." She was on her knees, her hands were setting upon his breastplate. If only her tears upon the pale of his cheeks could bring life to his form. "Please, brother..., wake up. You're not being funny..., brother..." She shook him. Plate rattles against the stone floor, but the knight's arms were limp. "Stop it, brother! Stop it!" She was growing frustrated. The youth shakes him again, her sobs more violent, and frantic. "Wake up! Wake up!"
There was silence, and then..., a scream. Heat. Flames erupt from the young magi, surrounding her like a wildfire. Paintings began to burn, smoke filled the room. The crackle of flames were reflected in those bright blue orbs, as chaos began to consume the young woman's heart.
She lays upon him in her grief, her tears no longer flowing. Her cries were drowned out by the raging inferno, and her will was consumed by her broken heart.
"I love you, Brother. It's..., it's time for dinner. I made-..., I made you a plate..."
Glass shatters.
Without order, there is only discord.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Grasping the hood of her cloak that framed her tussled crimson hair, Erythis made her way into a room she had abandoned so long ago, for fear of finding herself permanently trapped in the magic that resides there, unable to escape from the object she knew was sleeping beneath all the tattered pieces of cloth, dust, and cobwebs that were strewn about the interior. Though as she approached that familiar bundle of old tapestries, she eagerly grasped onto any fabric she could get her hands on, her hands pulling swiftly to reveal that which lay beneath. A mirror; bordered in the finest oak and mahogany, with subtle swirls carved at the corners that framed the large sheet of glass. First a single finger, then a few more slid over the glass gingerly, as if it would break from the slightest more pressure. The redhead's eyes darted back and forth, up and down, her lips pursed firmly as the glass caught light from a nameless source and began to reflect an image; An anonymous swirl that would soon become a haze, which would slowly start to dissipate, revealing clearer, sharper images. And as the mage began to willfully command space and time around her to bring forth a small stool into its very existence, she sat like a hawk watching a scene from atop a tall spire, staring deeply with utmost concentration into the mirror’s center, its core.
Show me what I want to see.
An elven woman clad in darkened, purple armor was standing in a crowd of people. Her skin was deeply tanned, her lips thin, and curved into a wicked and smug grin. Her long, platinum colored hair was bunched and tied at her scalp, her ponytail long enough to bat against the small of her back. She was laughing with them, the people around her. Laughing, her words bunched together and almost indistinct as she spoke in a wiry, shrill voice. Though as the crowd parted, a familiar woman appeared, seeming to fume at the nostrils as the redhead gripped the knight’s arm with a sudden jerk and tug.
“Viletta! So this is where you’ve been hiding all this time? Here I thought you would have fled somewhere reclusive, and yet I find you mingling with your other whores? You should be running from me, paladin.” Erythis gripped that plated gauntlet as tight as her slender hands would allow, her eyes flickering with a bright flare.
“Why should I flee? Your family continues to support my endeavors…, I should thank you, little Ery. Bedding your brother out of his fortune was the smartest thing I’ve ever done!”
Despite the inner turmoil growing within the younger magi's stomach, no tears or signs of a grimace were displayed on her face. She was calm, almost…, too calm. The kind of calm a lunatic would feel after convincing themselves that the crime they were about to commit was not a crime at all, and rather was justified by some means that probably aren’t even relevant.
“Still crying over him, little Ery? Why so hostile, are you going to kill me? Frankly, I’d like to try and see you lay a scratch on me. You know I’m one arrogant bitch, but I’m absolutely confident I could bring you to your knees and make you beg for your life. You’re so terribly spoiled, sugar. You should thank me; I was doing you a favor. All your brother was good for was his money. It seems everyone has left you all by yourse-..” The paladin named Viletta was cut off suddenly, her lips silenced from the intrusive force of the redhead's own. The knight’s silence only made the gasps of the women around them even louder, the loud-mouthed woman seeming stunned, and stilled. As she felt the magistrix pull from her, she parted her lips to speak, but for once, was at a loss for words.
“You know I have always wanted you.” One of Ery’s hands rose to brush through the paladin’s silvery bangs. “So for once, shut the hell up, and let me have what I came for. You owe me…” The crowd watched in fascinated silence as the redhead’s hands reached around to the back of the other woman’s armor, finding slim parted sections of her plated breastplate, to grasp and unhinge, removing to expose the bare flesh of the darker skinned woman’s chest.
“Your family continues to surprise me, Firestorm. So I was right all along then, you’re just as crazed and lust driven as the rest of your lot. You’re no, “good girl,” Erythis. As much as you like to pretend you are, you’re just like me. So much like me...” Viletta’s words echoed in Erythis' brain as one of her arms brushed near her side, her other hand grabbing one of the other woman’s sensitive mounds as the onlookers continued to fuel their own curiosity and frantic reactions. Erythis leaned forward, catching the very bottom of the knight’s earlobe within her teeth, before whispering in a low voice.
“No, Viletta. I’m not like you. Do you know why?”
“Why is that, little whore?”
“I don’t let my guard down.” At the same time the mage’s words reached the woman in her grasp, her free hand had already unsheathed the dagger hidden in the trusses of her skirt, already placed it to her back, and, with the final, cold-toned syllable, had plunged it up to hilt within the other woman’s back. The now very wide-eyed knight began to stagger, though Ery’s hands stayed firmly in place, holding the paladin up on her feet, stilled.
“You…, you.., really think that one dagger to the back would.., end my life?” Deep crimson began to pool from Viletta’s back, thin lines of blood beginning to drip from her gaping lips as she let out a sharp cough. Ery’s hand, in one swift motion, twisted the dagger as a cruel and uncaring smile graced her full, rosy lips.
“Of course not, little Viletta. I know better than that.” And as Ery’s eyes began to flare even brighter, she uttered a single word; a word of pain, magnificence, and chaos. “Burn.” People began to scream. The hilt of the dagger had erupted with fire, painful magma erupting along the paladin’s spine until it melted the very bone. In a matter of mere seconds, the knight was no more than a half naked corpse, burning against the cobblestone and starting to smolder. And before anyone had more time to act on more than an initial reaction, Erythis had vanished into thin air. As she dwelled in that comforting realm of invisibility that she often escaped to, a wild grin set in upon her features.
You took my brother from me, Viletta. I have had my vengeance! Do you hear their screams, Brother? I can feel them. I can feel them panic. This magic...- I will use it to destroy that which is wrong! You and I know what is right in the word! You and I know what is righteous! You will always be with me. You are my fire! They..., they will suffer. We will create a better world..., from the ashes, we will create!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The image in the mirror suddenly turned back into a deep fog, before all that was visible was an ordinary, reflective piece of glass. Hurriedly, Erythis climbed the wooden staircase back up to the main hall of the extravagant home, making her way to a large couch that was littered with cushions, where another woman was waiting for her ever patiently.
“Shall we talk now, Erythis?" As Liratrix looks to the elder mage with hopeful eyes, she was met in turn with a focused, verdant stare.
“We have much to talk about.”
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