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LaRPS : Legacies Role Play System » [IC] Character Chronicles
The Visit
(1 post)-
Romelle’s bare feet padded against the cold hardwood floors of her bedroom as she headed towards the stairs down to the study. It was late, so late that even in this city of endless night, most the city’s creatures would be asleep. But the call of the enchanted ashes left on her doorstep days before had become too strong to ignore.
The ashes rested in a vase perched on the marble mantle of the fireplace in her study. The magic used to enchant them was so strong it made Romelle’s reel before she was even half way down the stairs. The stench of foul magic made her choke and gag. Her steps were slow and deliberate as she forced herself to stand before the fireplace.
“Whatever you have to say, Lemore, it had better be worth it,” she muttered, grabbing the vase off the mantle and clutching it to her chest. “If this not about my husband, then your own ashes may soon be in here.” She lifted the vase high above her head before hurling into the roaring fire. The vase shattered and the ashes swirled about in the flames.
“Melodramatic, as usual, and much too serious. But this is you we’re talking about,” called a voice from within the fire. The flames turned an odd pale green as the voice spoke. “But so violent! That I was not expecting. What has this place done to you?” A disembodied chuckle filled the room.
Romelle rolled her eyes.
“What is it you’ve come to tell me, Lemore? If this is about my debt to your king, I am working on repaying it. That is why I am here,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And it’s not like you to do me any favors. Do you bring news of my husband? Of the Spring Court?”
The green flames flicked and jumped.
“You mean an explanation as to why they will not return your letters asking about your husband’s current status?” said Lemore smoothly. Romelle turned her head away at his response. “That’s because you’re no longer a member. They know of your dealings with the Autumn Court. Given how strained the relationship is between our two courts, they are less than happy, to say the least.”
Romelle’s mouth fell open. “How-“ she gasped. “How did they find out? Did you tell them?”
All light was drained from the room in a sudden whirl of ash. The flames had died, leaving nothing but brunt wood and a swarm of spinning ash.
“Does it matter at this point, Romelle? You know it could not be me, so stop acting like you’re daft. That would go against my interests, and you know it,” said Lemore, stepping forward from the ash cloud, which died and settled around his feet as quickly as it had been brought to life. “What you want to know is about your husband.”
Romelle stared into Lemore’s glowing eyes. Though he was Changeling like herself, an outsider could never tell by looking at them. His features were sunken, thin, looking almost as if his insides were melting. His figures were crooked; they had once been broken but never allowed to properly heal.
“Tell me,” she demanded, her voice cracking with emotion. “Is Castor dead? I know there has recently been a lot of fighting been the True Fae and the Changelings in Southampton. It would not,” she swallowed hard, taking a deep breath, “it is what I expect.”
“More like that’s what you want to hear,” corrected Lemore as he strode past her to examine a painting on the wall. “Because you fear the truth is worse. And it is. Your Castor was captured by the fae and taken back into Faerie to be with his Keeper,” he explained, waving a hand in the air. “Those ranking members of your court hate to admit their failings, don’t they?”
Romelle looked down at the floor. Her body trembled. Even she did not know what she felt. Fear for her lost husband? Sorrow that he was gone, lost to a fate her kind considered worse than death? Anger at the Spring Court for ignoring her pleas and questions about him? “Is that all you’ve come to tell me?” she choked out. “What I am to do, Lemore? You’ve never once given me any information, done me any favors, without expecting something in return. Now why have you told me this? To add to my debt?”
Lemore peered over his shoulders at Romelle. “No,” he answered, placing one of his long crooked fingers on his chin. “Your debt was never to me, anyway, but to my king. Owing anything to the Ashen King is enough debt for any lifetime. Really, Romelle, I’m not that cruel.” He shrugged his shoulders before spinning around on the heel of his boot to face her. “It’s just that I spied you wandering in my court’s Autumn Nightmare. Since you’ve been dabbling in my court’s powers and all, I thought now would a good time as any to remind you of the powers you could have.”
Romelle scowled, turning away to hide the tears running down from her eyes. “That would neither save my husband nor would it allow me to get revenge on the Spring Court,” she murmured.
“But what about here? What about now?” Lemore shouted, waving is arms around. “Your mayor friend hasn’t really been making friends and influencing people, I hear. She needs you because those enemies of hers don’t have limits. There’s little power they won’t touch. Few tricks they won’t play. But that’s rumor. Just rumor,” he mused with a light chuckled.
“What’s your point, Lemore? I’m losing patience.”
“Just that if you embrace the Autumn Court, your fellow Changelings, you might learn how to survive just a bit better,” he explained. He wandered over to a small statue of a horse perched on a lamp table. “You can help your friend and repay your debt to the Autumn King so much faster.” He poked the statue, causing it to rock slightly. “Then, maybe, he would be willing to help you with your husband. He likes you, you know, and he has rescued Changelings from the depths of Faerie before.”
“You know I’m in no state to much that decision,” she muttered. She stumbled over to one of the armchairs by the fireplace and slumped into it. “At least have the decency to give me time to grieve, you ass. Now leave, before I smash your fingers again!” she snapped, pointing to the fireplace, her eyes ablaze with hot anger.
“Some thanks I get,” Lemore muttered as he strutted towards the fireplace, stopping to stand in the middle of the ash pile. “When you’ve decided to make the right choice, I’ll know, and I’ll come calling again.” The ash cloud swirled around him in like a pestilence and flew into the fireplace. The flames reignited, burning as if nothing had happened.
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