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One of the rarest sort of night that Hector was completely alone at home. Under normal circumstances, it could have been considered a blessing - almost peaceful, if he chose to think of it in such a way. However, every reason for his home to be empty had him fraught with worry, so much so that he could not sleep.
Gregor and Ismene had been called away to a neighboring province, where the plights of the drought and famine saw the people of the smaller fishing community taken with illness atop it all. Good word had spread of their actions as healers and herbalists, so they set out a few days before. A missive arrived that morning, even, saying that they expected to be there a fortnight, if not longer to help. With Gregor at Ismene's side, Hector felt certain they would be fine...unless the illness sought either of them as their next vicitms.
Demi had been scarce since their return from Athenia after the Harvest Festival. It was not quite an 'argument' that they had, but given the natural rise and fall of the tides in their relationship, they had descended into one of their frequent spells where they were apart. It grated him, always, to know her dedication to her occupation. It was best if he did not think on these things too much, or his anger would bite and snap with bile at the base of his throat for too long until it eventually bubbled forth. It threatened to do so at the barracks far too often. In the back of his mind, Hector could not help but wonder...or fear...that Demi would find her way back to the arms or the bed of Lord Elias...
No, he could not bear to think of that. Not right now.
But, it was too late. With the crackling embers of the hearthfire serving as his only company in these lonely hours past midnight, he was trapped alone with his thoughts. Sleep never came easily to him when he worried, no matter how exhausting the day of training and reports could have been. His mind was flung across the Kingdom even as he sat before the fire. The events in Athenia played and replayed in his mind, like a rehearsal for play, the images and phrases pressed into his memory. It had grown tiresome and yet, he could not sleep.
He stood, moving about the living space and making to clear a cup and a book from an already mostly-cleared table. The book he had been trying to read for what must have been nearly a year now. He would always begin in spurts and sputters until frustration at his inability to easily turn the marks on the page into images in his mind found the book snapped shut and once or twice now tossed to a resting place on a table or chair until he felt the urge to try again.
In truth, he was running out of things to keep himself occupied. Without a houseful of people to feed, his meal had been scant and easily prepared. With the garden having all but failed given the drought, he had cleared away the decayed vines. After, he took the time to heat water and give himself a proper, deep scouring and even a closely drawn shave. Thankfully, he convinced himself to wait for Demi to return rather than to tackle the growing locks that swept now onto his forehead.
And, he prayed.
In recent days, he prayed often and hard at the courtyard altar he meticulously maintained, with a figure of @athena that had been carved from soapstone at the center. Not one to throw his coin into much, this had been the one exception. It so closely resembled a miniature version of the grand, gilt statue in the Naós. He knew this from how often he visited her, seeking wisdom and the strength to protect those he loved. Particularly in moments like this, when he was all but blind and helpless to those he loved who were just out of his arms reach...or lost.
Setting the cup by the pitcher, he lingered there a moment, his thoughts now on Ariadne, and the danger she now found herself in. There was no doubt in his mind that the gladiator, Lesley, was right - if the Queen was at the Harvest Festival, then Ariadne's disappearance could only be explained as her being at her monarch's side. That meant, though, that just as the Queen had turned into a wisp of smoke on the wind, so had his daughter.
And in pursuit, no doubt, were the Stravos.
Hector felt like a man who knew too much, ever since the night Aimias stepped through his door, soaked to the bone and in fear for his life at the role he played in this. That night garnered sympathy from the Captain towards his friend, but now that his daughter found herself in the mix of it, intertwined in the wicked tapestry of it all, Hector felt bitterness against his tongue at every thought.
Where could they have gone? Taengea?
Queen Persephone had been betrothed to a Taengean lord, Iason of Dimitrou. After the Stravos guards searched for her, had they fled away - with Ariadne in tow? The not-knowing made him nearly sick at the thought.
It gave him a headache.
Leaning against the counter, Hector sighed, unfamiliar loneliness creeping in for the first time in who knew how long. Maybe he should try to sleep, but he worried that laying in an empty bed would be more distracting than helpful. His eyes flickered to an oft-unopened cabinet that contained a few bottles and jugs of precious liquors and wines, usually spared and offered to those he entertained. Not since his youth had he dared turn to such a thing as distraction or aid, but being alone with this thoughts in such a way....
There was a sudden knock at the door.
His head flung up, startled at someone else being awake at such an hour, but the rapid rate of the tapping caused a bubble of concern to pool in his gut. Demi? Had something happened? Or...a messenger from the fishing village? Gods, had something happened to Gregor or Ismene?
Quickly crossing from the kitchen through the living space, he made his way to the door, his eyes flickering to where he set his xiphos against the wall when he first arrived home, there if needed.
Unlatching the door, he pulled it open to find a number of figures standing before him...but in that moment, he only saw one.
"Ari..."
Her name had hardly left his lips before he reached out to all but grapple his daughter, pulling her into his arms and clenching his eyes just as tight as his hold on her. He released a breath that it felt like he had been holding since he last saw her across the chaos in Athenia. His hand moved to the back of her golden head, his head dipping down to place an instinctual, fatherly kiss against the tresses....
And he caught the smell of smoke as it wafted through the air, and he pulled back to look at her, instantly concerned.
Then, his eyes lifted up once more to the many, many others standing at the threshold - his eyes widening as recognition dawned on him.
"Your Majesty," Hector breathed out, as if the words could hardly pass his lips. Offering as rapid and appropriate of a bow as could be offered to the retinue before him in the dead of the night, he took a step back, not releasing arm's hold on Ariadne as he opened the door widely and stepped back, allowing them entrance, "Come in. Please."
His eyes quickly flickered across the faces, feeling hidden reactions to each one, both familiar and unfamiliar, fighting within his gut. As they began to file into his all-too-modest home, he looked down to Ariadne. In his arm, he could feel the coiled need to move, the pull of her duty apparent. Though he would much prefer to not let her out of his arms again, he placed another kiss on the top of her head, softly murmuring to her, "Do as you must," before releasing her from his hold on her.
Then, after checking out into the darkness of the silent Arcanan streets, he quickly closed and latched the door.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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One of the rarest sort of night that Hector was completely alone at home. Under normal circumstances, it could have been considered a blessing - almost peaceful, if he chose to think of it in such a way. However, every reason for his home to be empty had him fraught with worry, so much so that he could not sleep.
Gregor and Ismene had been called away to a neighboring province, where the plights of the drought and famine saw the people of the smaller fishing community taken with illness atop it all. Good word had spread of their actions as healers and herbalists, so they set out a few days before. A missive arrived that morning, even, saying that they expected to be there a fortnight, if not longer to help. With Gregor at Ismene's side, Hector felt certain they would be fine...unless the illness sought either of them as their next vicitms.
Demi had been scarce since their return from Athenia after the Harvest Festival. It was not quite an 'argument' that they had, but given the natural rise and fall of the tides in their relationship, they had descended into one of their frequent spells where they were apart. It grated him, always, to know her dedication to her occupation. It was best if he did not think on these things too much, or his anger would bite and snap with bile at the base of his throat for too long until it eventually bubbled forth. It threatened to do so at the barracks far too often. In the back of his mind, Hector could not help but wonder...or fear...that Demi would find her way back to the arms or the bed of Lord Elias...
No, he could not bear to think of that. Not right now.
But, it was too late. With the crackling embers of the hearthfire serving as his only company in these lonely hours past midnight, he was trapped alone with his thoughts. Sleep never came easily to him when he worried, no matter how exhausting the day of training and reports could have been. His mind was flung across the Kingdom even as he sat before the fire. The events in Athenia played and replayed in his mind, like a rehearsal for play, the images and phrases pressed into his memory. It had grown tiresome and yet, he could not sleep.
He stood, moving about the living space and making to clear a cup and a book from an already mostly-cleared table. The book he had been trying to read for what must have been nearly a year now. He would always begin in spurts and sputters until frustration at his inability to easily turn the marks on the page into images in his mind found the book snapped shut and once or twice now tossed to a resting place on a table or chair until he felt the urge to try again.
In truth, he was running out of things to keep himself occupied. Without a houseful of people to feed, his meal had been scant and easily prepared. With the garden having all but failed given the drought, he had cleared away the decayed vines. After, he took the time to heat water and give himself a proper, deep scouring and even a closely drawn shave. Thankfully, he convinced himself to wait for Demi to return rather than to tackle the growing locks that swept now onto his forehead.
And, he prayed.
In recent days, he prayed often and hard at the courtyard altar he meticulously maintained, with a figure of @athena that had been carved from soapstone at the center. Not one to throw his coin into much, this had been the one exception. It so closely resembled a miniature version of the grand, gilt statue in the Naós. He knew this from how often he visited her, seeking wisdom and the strength to protect those he loved. Particularly in moments like this, when he was all but blind and helpless to those he loved who were just out of his arms reach...or lost.
Setting the cup by the pitcher, he lingered there a moment, his thoughts now on Ariadne, and the danger she now found herself in. There was no doubt in his mind that the gladiator, Lesley, was right - if the Queen was at the Harvest Festival, then Ariadne's disappearance could only be explained as her being at her monarch's side. That meant, though, that just as the Queen had turned into a wisp of smoke on the wind, so had his daughter.
And in pursuit, no doubt, were the Stravos.
Hector felt like a man who knew too much, ever since the night Aimias stepped through his door, soaked to the bone and in fear for his life at the role he played in this. That night garnered sympathy from the Captain towards his friend, but now that his daughter found herself in the mix of it, intertwined in the wicked tapestry of it all, Hector felt bitterness against his tongue at every thought.
Where could they have gone? Taengea?
Queen Persephone had been betrothed to a Taengean lord, Iason of Dimitrou. After the Stravos guards searched for her, had they fled away - with Ariadne in tow? The not-knowing made him nearly sick at the thought.
It gave him a headache.
Leaning against the counter, Hector sighed, unfamiliar loneliness creeping in for the first time in who knew how long. Maybe he should try to sleep, but he worried that laying in an empty bed would be more distracting than helpful. His eyes flickered to an oft-unopened cabinet that contained a few bottles and jugs of precious liquors and wines, usually spared and offered to those he entertained. Not since his youth had he dared turn to such a thing as distraction or aid, but being alone with this thoughts in such a way....
There was a sudden knock at the door.
His head flung up, startled at someone else being awake at such an hour, but the rapid rate of the tapping caused a bubble of concern to pool in his gut. Demi? Had something happened? Or...a messenger from the fishing village? Gods, had something happened to Gregor or Ismene?
Quickly crossing from the kitchen through the living space, he made his way to the door, his eyes flickering to where he set his xiphos against the wall when he first arrived home, there if needed.
Unlatching the door, he pulled it open to find a number of figures standing before him...but in that moment, he only saw one.
"Ari..."
Her name had hardly left his lips before he reached out to all but grapple his daughter, pulling her into his arms and clenching his eyes just as tight as his hold on her. He released a breath that it felt like he had been holding since he last saw her across the chaos in Athenia. His hand moved to the back of her golden head, his head dipping down to place an instinctual, fatherly kiss against the tresses....
And he caught the smell of smoke as it wafted through the air, and he pulled back to look at her, instantly concerned.
Then, his eyes lifted up once more to the many, many others standing at the threshold - his eyes widening as recognition dawned on him.
"Your Majesty," Hector breathed out, as if the words could hardly pass his lips. Offering as rapid and appropriate of a bow as could be offered to the retinue before him in the dead of the night, he took a step back, not releasing arm's hold on Ariadne as he opened the door widely and stepped back, allowing them entrance, "Come in. Please."
His eyes quickly flickered across the faces, feeling hidden reactions to each one, both familiar and unfamiliar, fighting within his gut. As they began to file into his all-too-modest home, he looked down to Ariadne. In his arm, he could feel the coiled need to move, the pull of her duty apparent. Though he would much prefer to not let her out of his arms again, he placed another kiss on the top of her head, softly murmuring to her, "Do as you must," before releasing her from his hold on her.
Then, after checking out into the darkness of the silent Arcanan streets, he quickly closed and latched the door.
One of the rarest sort of night that Hector was completely alone at home. Under normal circumstances, it could have been considered a blessing - almost peaceful, if he chose to think of it in such a way. However, every reason for his home to be empty had him fraught with worry, so much so that he could not sleep.
Gregor and Ismene had been called away to a neighboring province, where the plights of the drought and famine saw the people of the smaller fishing community taken with illness atop it all. Good word had spread of their actions as healers and herbalists, so they set out a few days before. A missive arrived that morning, even, saying that they expected to be there a fortnight, if not longer to help. With Gregor at Ismene's side, Hector felt certain they would be fine...unless the illness sought either of them as their next vicitms.
Demi had been scarce since their return from Athenia after the Harvest Festival. It was not quite an 'argument' that they had, but given the natural rise and fall of the tides in their relationship, they had descended into one of their frequent spells where they were apart. It grated him, always, to know her dedication to her occupation. It was best if he did not think on these things too much, or his anger would bite and snap with bile at the base of his throat for too long until it eventually bubbled forth. It threatened to do so at the barracks far too often. In the back of his mind, Hector could not help but wonder...or fear...that Demi would find her way back to the arms or the bed of Lord Elias...
No, he could not bear to think of that. Not right now.
But, it was too late. With the crackling embers of the hearthfire serving as his only company in these lonely hours past midnight, he was trapped alone with his thoughts. Sleep never came easily to him when he worried, no matter how exhausting the day of training and reports could have been. His mind was flung across the Kingdom even as he sat before the fire. The events in Athenia played and replayed in his mind, like a rehearsal for play, the images and phrases pressed into his memory. It had grown tiresome and yet, he could not sleep.
He stood, moving about the living space and making to clear a cup and a book from an already mostly-cleared table. The book he had been trying to read for what must have been nearly a year now. He would always begin in spurts and sputters until frustration at his inability to easily turn the marks on the page into images in his mind found the book snapped shut and once or twice now tossed to a resting place on a table or chair until he felt the urge to try again.
In truth, he was running out of things to keep himself occupied. Without a houseful of people to feed, his meal had been scant and easily prepared. With the garden having all but failed given the drought, he had cleared away the decayed vines. After, he took the time to heat water and give himself a proper, deep scouring and even a closely drawn shave. Thankfully, he convinced himself to wait for Demi to return rather than to tackle the growing locks that swept now onto his forehead.
And, he prayed.
In recent days, he prayed often and hard at the courtyard altar he meticulously maintained, with a figure of @athena that had been carved from soapstone at the center. Not one to throw his coin into much, this had been the one exception. It so closely resembled a miniature version of the grand, gilt statue in the Naós. He knew this from how often he visited her, seeking wisdom and the strength to protect those he loved. Particularly in moments like this, when he was all but blind and helpless to those he loved who were just out of his arms reach...or lost.
Setting the cup by the pitcher, he lingered there a moment, his thoughts now on Ariadne, and the danger she now found herself in. There was no doubt in his mind that the gladiator, Lesley, was right - if the Queen was at the Harvest Festival, then Ariadne's disappearance could only be explained as her being at her monarch's side. That meant, though, that just as the Queen had turned into a wisp of smoke on the wind, so had his daughter.
And in pursuit, no doubt, were the Stravos.
Hector felt like a man who knew too much, ever since the night Aimias stepped through his door, soaked to the bone and in fear for his life at the role he played in this. That night garnered sympathy from the Captain towards his friend, but now that his daughter found herself in the mix of it, intertwined in the wicked tapestry of it all, Hector felt bitterness against his tongue at every thought.
Where could they have gone? Taengea?
Queen Persephone had been betrothed to a Taengean lord, Iason of Dimitrou. After the Stravos guards searched for her, had they fled away - with Ariadne in tow? The not-knowing made him nearly sick at the thought.
It gave him a headache.
Leaning against the counter, Hector sighed, unfamiliar loneliness creeping in for the first time in who knew how long. Maybe he should try to sleep, but he worried that laying in an empty bed would be more distracting than helpful. His eyes flickered to an oft-unopened cabinet that contained a few bottles and jugs of precious liquors and wines, usually spared and offered to those he entertained. Not since his youth had he dared turn to such a thing as distraction or aid, but being alone with this thoughts in such a way....
There was a sudden knock at the door.
His head flung up, startled at someone else being awake at such an hour, but the rapid rate of the tapping caused a bubble of concern to pool in his gut. Demi? Had something happened? Or...a messenger from the fishing village? Gods, had something happened to Gregor or Ismene?
Quickly crossing from the kitchen through the living space, he made his way to the door, his eyes flickering to where he set his xiphos against the wall when he first arrived home, there if needed.
Unlatching the door, he pulled it open to find a number of figures standing before him...but in that moment, he only saw one.
"Ari..."
Her name had hardly left his lips before he reached out to all but grapple his daughter, pulling her into his arms and clenching his eyes just as tight as his hold on her. He released a breath that it felt like he had been holding since he last saw her across the chaos in Athenia. His hand moved to the back of her golden head, his head dipping down to place an instinctual, fatherly kiss against the tresses....
And he caught the smell of smoke as it wafted through the air, and he pulled back to look at her, instantly concerned.
Then, his eyes lifted up once more to the many, many others standing at the threshold - his eyes widening as recognition dawned on him.
"Your Majesty," Hector breathed out, as if the words could hardly pass his lips. Offering as rapid and appropriate of a bow as could be offered to the retinue before him in the dead of the night, he took a step back, not releasing arm's hold on Ariadne as he opened the door widely and stepped back, allowing them entrance, "Come in. Please."
His eyes quickly flickered across the faces, feeling hidden reactions to each one, both familiar and unfamiliar, fighting within his gut. As they began to file into his all-too-modest home, he looked down to Ariadne. In his arm, he could feel the coiled need to move, the pull of her duty apparent. Though he would much prefer to not let her out of his arms again, he placed another kiss on the top of her head, softly murmuring to her, "Do as you must," before releasing her from his hold on her.
Then, after checking out into the darkness of the silent Arcanan streets, he quickly closed and latched the door.
Their escape from Argyris Manor had been one of Ariadne’s worst nights. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, at some point her body had taken over for her mind. It was easier to move than think about what was happening. As long as they kept moving, they could escape the terrible flames that might have been their fate. There would be time to process all of that later, but it was clear that someone had learned where Persephone was and they were coming for her. So when Ari had made the suggestion of their next hiding spot, it was done with a great deal of guilt. She hoped that she wasn’t making a grave mistake, putting her family in danger. But nobody seemed to know where to go and Ariadne wanted to return to the place she went when she needed help: home.
Somehow their group made it to Arcana, back to Hector’s home. They had nothing but the few possessions they had thought to grab and the smell of smoke lingering on their bodies. The forest had gone so much faster than she could have imagined. It was both a stunning and terrifying sight.
Ariadne had been feeling guilty since her abscondment with Persephone after the festival. She’d only a moment to make a decision and no time to tell her father. She had left a note with the innkeeper, but hadn’t been sure that Hector would ever get it. She had to hope he would see it, but know that he was still going to worry about her. Selfishly, Ari was glad to be going home even if she knew that it was the best place for them to be right now.
Somehow, their group made their way through the dark streets unnoticed and to the door of Hector’s home. Ariadne felt a bit silly knocking, but didn’t want to startle the man by barging in. He was surely not expecting anyone at this hour. When he opened the door, the girl felt she might burst into tears, quickly swept up into her father’s arms. She held him tight for just a moment, never wanting to let go. She tried to convey all of her feelings into the hug: apologies, sorrow, relief. However, he caught the smell of smoke in her hair, pulling back and throwing her back into reality. They had to get everyone off the streets. She could explain everything later.
Hector quickly recognized the chief member of their party and invited them in without question, for which she was glad. She enjoyed the extra moments in his arms, ushering in their guests. She knew that he wouldn’t leave them out in the streets, even if that meant a full house. Ariadne looked about for her sister and uncle, sure that they would have risen due to the commotion. For although everyone was quiet, it was difficult to mask the sounds of their home expanding by several people. Ari looked to her father and whispered the words, “Isi and Uncle Gregor?”
Once the last person was inside, Hector gently let go, allowing Ari to bustle through the home, quickly preparing to make everyone as comfortable as possible. She was already attempting to prioritize in her head where everyone would sleep, but first they would need some refreshments after their journey; water key among those.
First, Ari made sure Olena had a seat. Today had been traumatizing, but there was something in her history that today worse from her. She shuddered thinking of what might have happened if she and Chrysanthe hadn’t been able to coax Olena from under the bed. She was safe now, thankfully, but Ariadne worried about her unborn child. Oh, what a day, so many things to worry about. But she could not rest now. The girl flitted about in between the living room and the kitchen, bringing cups of water and setting out some of the food her father had to offer. She felt guilty taking from him, but knew he would understand and give it freely himself.
She left it to someone else to explain what had happened, both being too tired to think about it and preparing places for everyone to sleep. If she stopped to rest now, surely she would collapse and never get up.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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Their escape from Argyris Manor had been one of Ariadne’s worst nights. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, at some point her body had taken over for her mind. It was easier to move than think about what was happening. As long as they kept moving, they could escape the terrible flames that might have been their fate. There would be time to process all of that later, but it was clear that someone had learned where Persephone was and they were coming for her. So when Ari had made the suggestion of their next hiding spot, it was done with a great deal of guilt. She hoped that she wasn’t making a grave mistake, putting her family in danger. But nobody seemed to know where to go and Ariadne wanted to return to the place she went when she needed help: home.
Somehow their group made it to Arcana, back to Hector’s home. They had nothing but the few possessions they had thought to grab and the smell of smoke lingering on their bodies. The forest had gone so much faster than she could have imagined. It was both a stunning and terrifying sight.
Ariadne had been feeling guilty since her abscondment with Persephone after the festival. She’d only a moment to make a decision and no time to tell her father. She had left a note with the innkeeper, but hadn’t been sure that Hector would ever get it. She had to hope he would see it, but know that he was still going to worry about her. Selfishly, Ari was glad to be going home even if she knew that it was the best place for them to be right now.
Somehow, their group made their way through the dark streets unnoticed and to the door of Hector’s home. Ariadne felt a bit silly knocking, but didn’t want to startle the man by barging in. He was surely not expecting anyone at this hour. When he opened the door, the girl felt she might burst into tears, quickly swept up into her father’s arms. She held him tight for just a moment, never wanting to let go. She tried to convey all of her feelings into the hug: apologies, sorrow, relief. However, he caught the smell of smoke in her hair, pulling back and throwing her back into reality. They had to get everyone off the streets. She could explain everything later.
Hector quickly recognized the chief member of their party and invited them in without question, for which she was glad. She enjoyed the extra moments in his arms, ushering in their guests. She knew that he wouldn’t leave them out in the streets, even if that meant a full house. Ariadne looked about for her sister and uncle, sure that they would have risen due to the commotion. For although everyone was quiet, it was difficult to mask the sounds of their home expanding by several people. Ari looked to her father and whispered the words, “Isi and Uncle Gregor?”
Once the last person was inside, Hector gently let go, allowing Ari to bustle through the home, quickly preparing to make everyone as comfortable as possible. She was already attempting to prioritize in her head where everyone would sleep, but first they would need some refreshments after their journey; water key among those.
First, Ari made sure Olena had a seat. Today had been traumatizing, but there was something in her history that today worse from her. She shuddered thinking of what might have happened if she and Chrysanthe hadn’t been able to coax Olena from under the bed. She was safe now, thankfully, but Ariadne worried about her unborn child. Oh, what a day, so many things to worry about. But she could not rest now. The girl flitted about in between the living room and the kitchen, bringing cups of water and setting out some of the food her father had to offer. She felt guilty taking from him, but knew he would understand and give it freely himself.
She left it to someone else to explain what had happened, both being too tired to think about it and preparing places for everyone to sleep. If she stopped to rest now, surely she would collapse and never get up.
Their escape from Argyris Manor had been one of Ariadne’s worst nights. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, at some point her body had taken over for her mind. It was easier to move than think about what was happening. As long as they kept moving, they could escape the terrible flames that might have been their fate. There would be time to process all of that later, but it was clear that someone had learned where Persephone was and they were coming for her. So when Ari had made the suggestion of their next hiding spot, it was done with a great deal of guilt. She hoped that she wasn’t making a grave mistake, putting her family in danger. But nobody seemed to know where to go and Ariadne wanted to return to the place she went when she needed help: home.
Somehow their group made it to Arcana, back to Hector’s home. They had nothing but the few possessions they had thought to grab and the smell of smoke lingering on their bodies. The forest had gone so much faster than she could have imagined. It was both a stunning and terrifying sight.
Ariadne had been feeling guilty since her abscondment with Persephone after the festival. She’d only a moment to make a decision and no time to tell her father. She had left a note with the innkeeper, but hadn’t been sure that Hector would ever get it. She had to hope he would see it, but know that he was still going to worry about her. Selfishly, Ari was glad to be going home even if she knew that it was the best place for them to be right now.
Somehow, their group made their way through the dark streets unnoticed and to the door of Hector’s home. Ariadne felt a bit silly knocking, but didn’t want to startle the man by barging in. He was surely not expecting anyone at this hour. When he opened the door, the girl felt she might burst into tears, quickly swept up into her father’s arms. She held him tight for just a moment, never wanting to let go. She tried to convey all of her feelings into the hug: apologies, sorrow, relief. However, he caught the smell of smoke in her hair, pulling back and throwing her back into reality. They had to get everyone off the streets. She could explain everything later.
Hector quickly recognized the chief member of their party and invited them in without question, for which she was glad. She enjoyed the extra moments in his arms, ushering in their guests. She knew that he wouldn’t leave them out in the streets, even if that meant a full house. Ariadne looked about for her sister and uncle, sure that they would have risen due to the commotion. For although everyone was quiet, it was difficult to mask the sounds of their home expanding by several people. Ari looked to her father and whispered the words, “Isi and Uncle Gregor?”
Once the last person was inside, Hector gently let go, allowing Ari to bustle through the home, quickly preparing to make everyone as comfortable as possible. She was already attempting to prioritize in her head where everyone would sleep, but first they would need some refreshments after their journey; water key among those.
First, Ari made sure Olena had a seat. Today had been traumatizing, but there was something in her history that today worse from her. She shuddered thinking of what might have happened if she and Chrysanthe hadn’t been able to coax Olena from under the bed. She was safe now, thankfully, but Ariadne worried about her unborn child. Oh, what a day, so many things to worry about. But she could not rest now. The girl flitted about in between the living room and the kitchen, bringing cups of water and setting out some of the food her father had to offer. She felt guilty taking from him, but knew he would understand and give it freely himself.
She left it to someone else to explain what had happened, both being too tired to think about it and preparing places for everyone to sleep. If she stopped to rest now, surely she would collapse and never get up.
The journey to Arcana was a taxing one on all sides and in all ways. Persephone's body protested the long hours in the saddle as they road through forests and fields in the dead of night. Even if the sun was up and there was light to see by, Persephone would have been achy and sore by the end of it. Yet with hour being passed midnight, the darkness played its own part in the tensions that resonated through her body. It was dangerous to ride at night. The animals could not place their footing and the humans could not direct them passed obstacles or ditches in the roads. With every stumble or shift of the horses, there was a flip of panic in her stomach that she would be dismounted. Or that the animal beneath her would fall and take her with it. Her hands held onto the reins so hard that she could feel each crescent of her own nails digging into her palms. If there was a loud noise, or of the animal sniffed much more of that smoke they were trying to leave behind, he could panic and bolt, dragging Persephone along in his fear. Her hands were hard on the leather straps, her every intention to be able to control such a scenario should it happen.
Initially, they rode quickly. At a treacherous speed, they headed down the roads at a fast canter. The horses had to trust in their positions and not break into terrified leaps of speed. The chances of putting a hoof wrong or colliding with something were so high that Persephone's heart was in her throat the entire time. But the chances of falling to the streets, despite the chances, was less likely than the damage that would be done were they caught in the moving flames. They had to rush to outrun the fire.
After that, they gave their mounts the rest of walking the rest of the way. No longer in danger, and the flickering lights of the flames of Aetaea now little more than a pretty little pink on the horizon, they could ride with a more sedate and safer pace. Only then, the little stumbles and the moments of fear became more prevalent. Every noise, every sound... They all tightened upon Persephone's skin, drawing in to feel clammy and oppressive. There was a howl of a wolf at one point, the squawk of some birds. Owls hooted as she went by. Persephone tried to take comfort in that last one, wondering if @athena was looking out for them and sending up a prayer of thanks just in case. For they were lucky and someone had been smiling down on them for them to have escaped this. The fire had been dangerous, the journey just as so. The fact that they had a blind and bound lord to drag along the way was one thing and Persephone's fear for Olena's baby another. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, so many ways in which any of the people in their little group might have become stuck, lost to the flames. And yet they were all here. Tired and smoky in scent. But all here nonetheless.
The taxation upon Persephone was not simply physical. With every sputter of her heart in fear, every stumble of her horse in which she panicked, and just the long and laborious hours that she was forced into the saddle... It was all a trial upon the body. But her emotions and her mind felt the strain just as much.
There was a universal feeling of sorrow as they rode at their slower pace through a woodland trail towards Arcana. Iris was the natural centre of it all, her loss the greatest in this moment. It seeped to the rest of the group without her having to say or do anything. It was simply the empathy of all around her that drew it into themselves. Persephone's grief was added to by a strong helping of guilt. For this would not have happened if she had not been at Iris' estate. Of that she was confident. However it had happened, her presence there had been discovered. And the retaliation had been with fire. Now, she was on the way to another friend - another household that she respected and cared for - risking that such a thing would happen all over again. Was that what she was? Some kind of poison?
As part of her had its confidence knocked and wondered if her new choice to fight for the crown was foolish and that she should leave Athenian shores before anyone else suffered, Persephone pushed away such concerns knowing that those thoughts came from something else. From her aversion to conflict and violence. She wanted to bow out of this race that Elias had constructed simply because she hated to see others suffer. But, given the way that Elias was intending to rule - even before he had the crown officially upon his head - that was exactly the reason that she needed to stay. To stay and create a new monarch that would see to the people's best interests.
Whether that meant that she fought an all-out war... or she tried to claim back to the throne by subterfuge. Or maybe that she spoke with Alehandros of Antonis and encouraged him to accept his own claim to the throne. He was a good man and would see the people right...
Whatever it was that she could do to stop Elias from claiming full control over Athenia, she would do it. Because otherwise this was what the kingdom would be victim to. The violence and hatred of a man whose personal ambition was more important than those he should be ruling for.
Even with this knowledge in mind, it was hard to stunt the guilt and the fear that what she was doing was wrong. But then, perhaps the doubt was what told her that she was in the right. Those that did not doubt their choices were the slaves of a hubris that would turn them arrogant enough to think that burning provinces was the way to get what they wanted.
On top of her emotions came her mental thoughts. The plans and worries and strategies and connections and networks and histories and everything else connected to the higher echelons of the Athenian social rankings that would be relevant or useful in the near future. If she were to stand and fight for her own claim to the throne then she wasn't going to do it without knowing that she had a strong chance of winning. She would not put the people through something traumatic if it was doomed to failure from the start. Which meant that she would need to know her supporters, who might stand with her and her claim to the throne. She would need to know the military might that they held and if they would be willing to reveal their loyalty publicly. She would need to make plans, study statistics, work out the shape that the kingdom was in since Elias had been shadow-ruling it. She would need to get word to her sister to stall the wedding between herself and Elias - if they were to marry and Persephone was killed, it would be all over.
The stratagems and considerations to be made were numerous and varied and they kept Persephone's focus throughout the night even if they did leave her exhausted by the time the lights of the town of Arcana came into view. There were only a few of them - just a couple of neighbours that still had a candle flickering in their windows. She noticed that her own estate, just up on the dockside was dark and gloomy, beside the little residences. But that was not where they were headed.
For all they knew, the Stravos had men all over her own household in Arcana - it was a logical place for her to go. And, as soon as they had found her and secured her, they would escort her quietly to the capitol or to somewhere quiet and see her killed. It would be an easy enough matter - especially now. A little fire and a few burns and her body deposited back in Aetaea and they would have no need to fight for the throne any longer. Elias would marry Emilia and become king within the week, she was sure.
Her own home, therefore was not where they were headed. They were going to someone that Persephone had trusted for most of her life. A man that had raised two daughters and been a paternal figure of strength to the princess. He had also been in Arcana and in Athenia for the duration of her absence and was a Captain of rank. Which meant that he might know better how to handle matters from here.
Hoping that perhaps he would know of an estate or building currently unmanned and left barren, or a barn that they might be able to turn into a stronghold, Persephone had every intention of making their visit to Hector's home temporary and short-lived. She did not wish to see his home ruined in the way that Iris' had been. She would not see anyone else suffer on her account if she could prevent it.
But, for tonight, shelter was more important. They had no food, no water, several of them could not stop coughing. They had Keikelius in tow still bound and blindfolded and Olena was with child. They couldn't afford to go on a blind scavenger hunt for somewhere to say away from threat and fear. They needed help. And Hector was the nearest and best placed individual to be able to give that.
If they could just get through Arcana without being noticed.
Luckily for them, Ariadne knew the streets. She knew the ways to go that avoided notice, the neighbours that would bend their necks to catch a glance when they heard hooves. She knew which areas were more or less deserted at night and where the Stravos men had been stationed around the Kalospiti. She knew how to get home without being seen by anyone.
The group were forced to let loose the horses at the edge of the province, removing the animals of anything that would identify them as Argyris or Stravos steeds. After burning such evidence, the group walked the streets with a quiet step that Ariadne helped to guide on the safest route possible to Hector's home.
Together, the group stood awkwardly at his door until the man answered his daughter's knock and beckoned them all in.
Having been unable to claim a cloak against the chill of the night in their fleeing of Iris' estate, Persephone's face was easily recognised in the night and Hector was quick to understand the urgency and secrecy of their presence. He opened the door and brought them all indoors, regardless of number.
Persephone led the way inside with all of them in tow before they were all trying to fit inside the small sitting room that had been Hector's only company for the evening. Part of her was tempted to immediately stand by the fire and draw heat back into her numb fingertips and toes. Instead, she saw to her duties first.
With a finger to her lips to tell Hector to be quiet so that his voice might not be recognised by the blind-folded man, she tilted her head in Keikelius' direction.
"Iason, perhaps our host can show you a room in which his lordship can be stored away from earshot." She suggested. Her betrothed had seen to the man this far. She then looked towards her lady’s maids.
"Also, would you have a bed that my lady’s maid might be able to use for a short spell. She is... in a delicate condition." It was only after Hector had permitted such a thing that Persephone looked towards Chrysanthe. She could not ask Ariadne to leave the room when she was only now reunited with her father. But someone needed to see to Olena. It was clear that the fire had sent her into complete panic and she needed to calm down if her baby was to be safe. "Chrysanthe perhaps you could accompany Olena and be sure that she is alright?"
She then looked towards Ariadne.
"I think Lady Iris could use a strong drink, Ari, If at all possible?"
Persephone deliberately had yet to speak with Hector because she did not want his voice heard by the Stravos in the room. But she itched to offer him all the apologies in the world for this bombardment of his own personal haven…
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The journey to Arcana was a taxing one on all sides and in all ways. Persephone's body protested the long hours in the saddle as they road through forests and fields in the dead of night. Even if the sun was up and there was light to see by, Persephone would have been achy and sore by the end of it. Yet with hour being passed midnight, the darkness played its own part in the tensions that resonated through her body. It was dangerous to ride at night. The animals could not place their footing and the humans could not direct them passed obstacles or ditches in the roads. With every stumble or shift of the horses, there was a flip of panic in her stomach that she would be dismounted. Or that the animal beneath her would fall and take her with it. Her hands held onto the reins so hard that she could feel each crescent of her own nails digging into her palms. If there was a loud noise, or of the animal sniffed much more of that smoke they were trying to leave behind, he could panic and bolt, dragging Persephone along in his fear. Her hands were hard on the leather straps, her every intention to be able to control such a scenario should it happen.
Initially, they rode quickly. At a treacherous speed, they headed down the roads at a fast canter. The horses had to trust in their positions and not break into terrified leaps of speed. The chances of putting a hoof wrong or colliding with something were so high that Persephone's heart was in her throat the entire time. But the chances of falling to the streets, despite the chances, was less likely than the damage that would be done were they caught in the moving flames. They had to rush to outrun the fire.
After that, they gave their mounts the rest of walking the rest of the way. No longer in danger, and the flickering lights of the flames of Aetaea now little more than a pretty little pink on the horizon, they could ride with a more sedate and safer pace. Only then, the little stumbles and the moments of fear became more prevalent. Every noise, every sound... They all tightened upon Persephone's skin, drawing in to feel clammy and oppressive. There was a howl of a wolf at one point, the squawk of some birds. Owls hooted as she went by. Persephone tried to take comfort in that last one, wondering if @athena was looking out for them and sending up a prayer of thanks just in case. For they were lucky and someone had been smiling down on them for them to have escaped this. The fire had been dangerous, the journey just as so. The fact that they had a blind and bound lord to drag along the way was one thing and Persephone's fear for Olena's baby another. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, so many ways in which any of the people in their little group might have become stuck, lost to the flames. And yet they were all here. Tired and smoky in scent. But all here nonetheless.
The taxation upon Persephone was not simply physical. With every sputter of her heart in fear, every stumble of her horse in which she panicked, and just the long and laborious hours that she was forced into the saddle... It was all a trial upon the body. But her emotions and her mind felt the strain just as much.
There was a universal feeling of sorrow as they rode at their slower pace through a woodland trail towards Arcana. Iris was the natural centre of it all, her loss the greatest in this moment. It seeped to the rest of the group without her having to say or do anything. It was simply the empathy of all around her that drew it into themselves. Persephone's grief was added to by a strong helping of guilt. For this would not have happened if she had not been at Iris' estate. Of that she was confident. However it had happened, her presence there had been discovered. And the retaliation had been with fire. Now, she was on the way to another friend - another household that she respected and cared for - risking that such a thing would happen all over again. Was that what she was? Some kind of poison?
As part of her had its confidence knocked and wondered if her new choice to fight for the crown was foolish and that she should leave Athenian shores before anyone else suffered, Persephone pushed away such concerns knowing that those thoughts came from something else. From her aversion to conflict and violence. She wanted to bow out of this race that Elias had constructed simply because she hated to see others suffer. But, given the way that Elias was intending to rule - even before he had the crown officially upon his head - that was exactly the reason that she needed to stay. To stay and create a new monarch that would see to the people's best interests.
Whether that meant that she fought an all-out war... or she tried to claim back to the throne by subterfuge. Or maybe that she spoke with Alehandros of Antonis and encouraged him to accept his own claim to the throne. He was a good man and would see the people right...
Whatever it was that she could do to stop Elias from claiming full control over Athenia, she would do it. Because otherwise this was what the kingdom would be victim to. The violence and hatred of a man whose personal ambition was more important than those he should be ruling for.
Even with this knowledge in mind, it was hard to stunt the guilt and the fear that what she was doing was wrong. But then, perhaps the doubt was what told her that she was in the right. Those that did not doubt their choices were the slaves of a hubris that would turn them arrogant enough to think that burning provinces was the way to get what they wanted.
On top of her emotions came her mental thoughts. The plans and worries and strategies and connections and networks and histories and everything else connected to the higher echelons of the Athenian social rankings that would be relevant or useful in the near future. If she were to stand and fight for her own claim to the throne then she wasn't going to do it without knowing that she had a strong chance of winning. She would not put the people through something traumatic if it was doomed to failure from the start. Which meant that she would need to know her supporters, who might stand with her and her claim to the throne. She would need to know the military might that they held and if they would be willing to reveal their loyalty publicly. She would need to make plans, study statistics, work out the shape that the kingdom was in since Elias had been shadow-ruling it. She would need to get word to her sister to stall the wedding between herself and Elias - if they were to marry and Persephone was killed, it would be all over.
The stratagems and considerations to be made were numerous and varied and they kept Persephone's focus throughout the night even if they did leave her exhausted by the time the lights of the town of Arcana came into view. There were only a few of them - just a couple of neighbours that still had a candle flickering in their windows. She noticed that her own estate, just up on the dockside was dark and gloomy, beside the little residences. But that was not where they were headed.
For all they knew, the Stravos had men all over her own household in Arcana - it was a logical place for her to go. And, as soon as they had found her and secured her, they would escort her quietly to the capitol or to somewhere quiet and see her killed. It would be an easy enough matter - especially now. A little fire and a few burns and her body deposited back in Aetaea and they would have no need to fight for the throne any longer. Elias would marry Emilia and become king within the week, she was sure.
Her own home, therefore was not where they were headed. They were going to someone that Persephone had trusted for most of her life. A man that had raised two daughters and been a paternal figure of strength to the princess. He had also been in Arcana and in Athenia for the duration of her absence and was a Captain of rank. Which meant that he might know better how to handle matters from here.
Hoping that perhaps he would know of an estate or building currently unmanned and left barren, or a barn that they might be able to turn into a stronghold, Persephone had every intention of making their visit to Hector's home temporary and short-lived. She did not wish to see his home ruined in the way that Iris' had been. She would not see anyone else suffer on her account if she could prevent it.
But, for tonight, shelter was more important. They had no food, no water, several of them could not stop coughing. They had Keikelius in tow still bound and blindfolded and Olena was with child. They couldn't afford to go on a blind scavenger hunt for somewhere to say away from threat and fear. They needed help. And Hector was the nearest and best placed individual to be able to give that.
If they could just get through Arcana without being noticed.
Luckily for them, Ariadne knew the streets. She knew the ways to go that avoided notice, the neighbours that would bend their necks to catch a glance when they heard hooves. She knew which areas were more or less deserted at night and where the Stravos men had been stationed around the Kalospiti. She knew how to get home without being seen by anyone.
The group were forced to let loose the horses at the edge of the province, removing the animals of anything that would identify them as Argyris or Stravos steeds. After burning such evidence, the group walked the streets with a quiet step that Ariadne helped to guide on the safest route possible to Hector's home.
Together, the group stood awkwardly at his door until the man answered his daughter's knock and beckoned them all in.
Having been unable to claim a cloak against the chill of the night in their fleeing of Iris' estate, Persephone's face was easily recognised in the night and Hector was quick to understand the urgency and secrecy of their presence. He opened the door and brought them all indoors, regardless of number.
Persephone led the way inside with all of them in tow before they were all trying to fit inside the small sitting room that had been Hector's only company for the evening. Part of her was tempted to immediately stand by the fire and draw heat back into her numb fingertips and toes. Instead, she saw to her duties first.
With a finger to her lips to tell Hector to be quiet so that his voice might not be recognised by the blind-folded man, she tilted her head in Keikelius' direction.
"Iason, perhaps our host can show you a room in which his lordship can be stored away from earshot." She suggested. Her betrothed had seen to the man this far. She then looked towards her lady’s maids.
"Also, would you have a bed that my lady’s maid might be able to use for a short spell. She is... in a delicate condition." It was only after Hector had permitted such a thing that Persephone looked towards Chrysanthe. She could not ask Ariadne to leave the room when she was only now reunited with her father. But someone needed to see to Olena. It was clear that the fire had sent her into complete panic and she needed to calm down if her baby was to be safe. "Chrysanthe perhaps you could accompany Olena and be sure that she is alright?"
She then looked towards Ariadne.
"I think Lady Iris could use a strong drink, Ari, If at all possible?"
Persephone deliberately had yet to speak with Hector because she did not want his voice heard by the Stravos in the room. But she itched to offer him all the apologies in the world for this bombardment of his own personal haven…
The journey to Arcana was a taxing one on all sides and in all ways. Persephone's body protested the long hours in the saddle as they road through forests and fields in the dead of night. Even if the sun was up and there was light to see by, Persephone would have been achy and sore by the end of it. Yet with hour being passed midnight, the darkness played its own part in the tensions that resonated through her body. It was dangerous to ride at night. The animals could not place their footing and the humans could not direct them passed obstacles or ditches in the roads. With every stumble or shift of the horses, there was a flip of panic in her stomach that she would be dismounted. Or that the animal beneath her would fall and take her with it. Her hands held onto the reins so hard that she could feel each crescent of her own nails digging into her palms. If there was a loud noise, or of the animal sniffed much more of that smoke they were trying to leave behind, he could panic and bolt, dragging Persephone along in his fear. Her hands were hard on the leather straps, her every intention to be able to control such a scenario should it happen.
Initially, they rode quickly. At a treacherous speed, they headed down the roads at a fast canter. The horses had to trust in their positions and not break into terrified leaps of speed. The chances of putting a hoof wrong or colliding with something were so high that Persephone's heart was in her throat the entire time. But the chances of falling to the streets, despite the chances, was less likely than the damage that would be done were they caught in the moving flames. They had to rush to outrun the fire.
After that, they gave their mounts the rest of walking the rest of the way. No longer in danger, and the flickering lights of the flames of Aetaea now little more than a pretty little pink on the horizon, they could ride with a more sedate and safer pace. Only then, the little stumbles and the moments of fear became more prevalent. Every noise, every sound... They all tightened upon Persephone's skin, drawing in to feel clammy and oppressive. There was a howl of a wolf at one point, the squawk of some birds. Owls hooted as she went by. Persephone tried to take comfort in that last one, wondering if @athena was looking out for them and sending up a prayer of thanks just in case. For they were lucky and someone had been smiling down on them for them to have escaped this. The fire had been dangerous, the journey just as so. The fact that they had a blind and bound lord to drag along the way was one thing and Persephone's fear for Olena's baby another. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, so many ways in which any of the people in their little group might have become stuck, lost to the flames. And yet they were all here. Tired and smoky in scent. But all here nonetheless.
The taxation upon Persephone was not simply physical. With every sputter of her heart in fear, every stumble of her horse in which she panicked, and just the long and laborious hours that she was forced into the saddle... It was all a trial upon the body. But her emotions and her mind felt the strain just as much.
There was a universal feeling of sorrow as they rode at their slower pace through a woodland trail towards Arcana. Iris was the natural centre of it all, her loss the greatest in this moment. It seeped to the rest of the group without her having to say or do anything. It was simply the empathy of all around her that drew it into themselves. Persephone's grief was added to by a strong helping of guilt. For this would not have happened if she had not been at Iris' estate. Of that she was confident. However it had happened, her presence there had been discovered. And the retaliation had been with fire. Now, she was on the way to another friend - another household that she respected and cared for - risking that such a thing would happen all over again. Was that what she was? Some kind of poison?
As part of her had its confidence knocked and wondered if her new choice to fight for the crown was foolish and that she should leave Athenian shores before anyone else suffered, Persephone pushed away such concerns knowing that those thoughts came from something else. From her aversion to conflict and violence. She wanted to bow out of this race that Elias had constructed simply because she hated to see others suffer. But, given the way that Elias was intending to rule - even before he had the crown officially upon his head - that was exactly the reason that she needed to stay. To stay and create a new monarch that would see to the people's best interests.
Whether that meant that she fought an all-out war... or she tried to claim back to the throne by subterfuge. Or maybe that she spoke with Alehandros of Antonis and encouraged him to accept his own claim to the throne. He was a good man and would see the people right...
Whatever it was that she could do to stop Elias from claiming full control over Athenia, she would do it. Because otherwise this was what the kingdom would be victim to. The violence and hatred of a man whose personal ambition was more important than those he should be ruling for.
Even with this knowledge in mind, it was hard to stunt the guilt and the fear that what she was doing was wrong. But then, perhaps the doubt was what told her that she was in the right. Those that did not doubt their choices were the slaves of a hubris that would turn them arrogant enough to think that burning provinces was the way to get what they wanted.
On top of her emotions came her mental thoughts. The plans and worries and strategies and connections and networks and histories and everything else connected to the higher echelons of the Athenian social rankings that would be relevant or useful in the near future. If she were to stand and fight for her own claim to the throne then she wasn't going to do it without knowing that she had a strong chance of winning. She would not put the people through something traumatic if it was doomed to failure from the start. Which meant that she would need to know her supporters, who might stand with her and her claim to the throne. She would need to know the military might that they held and if they would be willing to reveal their loyalty publicly. She would need to make plans, study statistics, work out the shape that the kingdom was in since Elias had been shadow-ruling it. She would need to get word to her sister to stall the wedding between herself and Elias - if they were to marry and Persephone was killed, it would be all over.
The stratagems and considerations to be made were numerous and varied and they kept Persephone's focus throughout the night even if they did leave her exhausted by the time the lights of the town of Arcana came into view. There were only a few of them - just a couple of neighbours that still had a candle flickering in their windows. She noticed that her own estate, just up on the dockside was dark and gloomy, beside the little residences. But that was not where they were headed.
For all they knew, the Stravos had men all over her own household in Arcana - it was a logical place for her to go. And, as soon as they had found her and secured her, they would escort her quietly to the capitol or to somewhere quiet and see her killed. It would be an easy enough matter - especially now. A little fire and a few burns and her body deposited back in Aetaea and they would have no need to fight for the throne any longer. Elias would marry Emilia and become king within the week, she was sure.
Her own home, therefore was not where they were headed. They were going to someone that Persephone had trusted for most of her life. A man that had raised two daughters and been a paternal figure of strength to the princess. He had also been in Arcana and in Athenia for the duration of her absence and was a Captain of rank. Which meant that he might know better how to handle matters from here.
Hoping that perhaps he would know of an estate or building currently unmanned and left barren, or a barn that they might be able to turn into a stronghold, Persephone had every intention of making their visit to Hector's home temporary and short-lived. She did not wish to see his home ruined in the way that Iris' had been. She would not see anyone else suffer on her account if she could prevent it.
But, for tonight, shelter was more important. They had no food, no water, several of them could not stop coughing. They had Keikelius in tow still bound and blindfolded and Olena was with child. They couldn't afford to go on a blind scavenger hunt for somewhere to say away from threat and fear. They needed help. And Hector was the nearest and best placed individual to be able to give that.
If they could just get through Arcana without being noticed.
Luckily for them, Ariadne knew the streets. She knew the ways to go that avoided notice, the neighbours that would bend their necks to catch a glance when they heard hooves. She knew which areas were more or less deserted at night and where the Stravos men had been stationed around the Kalospiti. She knew how to get home without being seen by anyone.
The group were forced to let loose the horses at the edge of the province, removing the animals of anything that would identify them as Argyris or Stravos steeds. After burning such evidence, the group walked the streets with a quiet step that Ariadne helped to guide on the safest route possible to Hector's home.
Together, the group stood awkwardly at his door until the man answered his daughter's knock and beckoned them all in.
Having been unable to claim a cloak against the chill of the night in their fleeing of Iris' estate, Persephone's face was easily recognised in the night and Hector was quick to understand the urgency and secrecy of their presence. He opened the door and brought them all indoors, regardless of number.
Persephone led the way inside with all of them in tow before they were all trying to fit inside the small sitting room that had been Hector's only company for the evening. Part of her was tempted to immediately stand by the fire and draw heat back into her numb fingertips and toes. Instead, she saw to her duties first.
With a finger to her lips to tell Hector to be quiet so that his voice might not be recognised by the blind-folded man, she tilted her head in Keikelius' direction.
"Iason, perhaps our host can show you a room in which his lordship can be stored away from earshot." She suggested. Her betrothed had seen to the man this far. She then looked towards her lady’s maids.
"Also, would you have a bed that my lady’s maid might be able to use for a short spell. She is... in a delicate condition." It was only after Hector had permitted such a thing that Persephone looked towards Chrysanthe. She could not ask Ariadne to leave the room when she was only now reunited with her father. But someone needed to see to Olena. It was clear that the fire had sent her into complete panic and she needed to calm down if her baby was to be safe. "Chrysanthe perhaps you could accompany Olena and be sure that she is alright?"
She then looked towards Ariadne.
"I think Lady Iris could use a strong drink, Ari, If at all possible?"
Persephone deliberately had yet to speak with Hector because she did not want his voice heard by the Stravos in the room. But she itched to offer him all the apologies in the world for this bombardment of his own personal haven…
It seemed as if fire was to be the fate of all the good things in her life. She had vivid memories of the moment in which her childhood fell to the ground in ashes. If she closed her eyes too tightly, she could hear the screams of her mother, who watched her father’s life end at the point of a knife. She could hear the sobs of her sisters as they were raped and left for dead in the smoke filled house. Her mother’s wails echoed in her ears, ending in the same way her father’s had. She remembered the sweat of Dima’s palm as her hand was ripped from his, separating the boys from the girls.
There was an odd desire to cover her ears, but she knew it wouldn’t prevent her from hearing the screams. She did, however, pressed her lips tightly together, too afraid that she might scream in the same way she had years ago.
This fire was far more intense than the one that had ripped through her little village. Where they lived didn’t have huge conifers like they did here, so the torching of the branches was something new that would be added to her nightmares. Olena had gathered herself together enough to make it out of the house, but the moment she was in the air, surrounded by horses and people who were going to flee, she struggled again to stay in the present. Perhaps the child in her belly was causing her to lose sight of the bigger picture, that she couldn’t separate this fire from her past. The lines between the two blurred, and she could barely breathe by the time she was out of the house.
The journey was a blur. She vaguely remembered being pulled up onto Aimias’s horse, sitting in front of the man so that she wouldn’t fall off as she felt. The decision had been made quickly, and she hadn’t been able to do much about it. She tried to fight, tried to explain that if Dima returned he wouldn’t know where they would have gone. She begged them to let her stay, to just in case her love came back. But it was all for not-- they would not even entertain the idea of allowing her to stay in her condition.
Aimias took her choice out of her hands.
She held on for dear life as they fled, fighting her own demons as they worked their way out of the fire and into safer ground. As the pace slowed, exhaustion seeped in through her bones, but she couldn’t sleep. Her mind swirled around Dima, around the fact that he wouldn’t know what happened. There had been no way to leave a note, even if he could have read one. What would he think if he returned to a burning pile of ash?
Who would help him fight off his nightmares, like the girls had assisted her? How would he know that she was alive? Would he return at all?
She openly wept in Aimias’s arms.
Once she had spent her tears, she was numb, glad that Aimias would keep her in the saddle-- the chances of her falling were limited by his arm firmly around her middle. As much as she wanted to rest, she couldn’t. She tried, even at his urging, but it was impossible.
What would happen to her now?
As they approached a city, the shadows were their friends. Tucked into Aimias’s cloak, she felt safe, glad for his friendship now. She made a note to thank Iris for allowing her the comfort of her husband. Olena wouldn’t have let anyone else hold onto Dima like she had, especially with what had just happened. Perhaps, when her mind was a little less frantic, she would take a moment to grieve her loss, too.
For now, she was far too happy to see that they had stopped. Aimias dismounted, assisting her down and handing the girl into Chrysanthe’s care, himself moving to his wife’s horse to assist her in dismounting. Standing felt nearly impossible, and as the door was opened, she was glad for the warmth and the seat that Ari moved for her to take. Things moved around her, but she was too numb to take any of it in.
All she could think about was Dima.
About what he would see.
She wanted to cry, but her body refused to produce any more tears, throat raw from the smoke that no further sound would come out.
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It seemed as if fire was to be the fate of all the good things in her life. She had vivid memories of the moment in which her childhood fell to the ground in ashes. If she closed her eyes too tightly, she could hear the screams of her mother, who watched her father’s life end at the point of a knife. She could hear the sobs of her sisters as they were raped and left for dead in the smoke filled house. Her mother’s wails echoed in her ears, ending in the same way her father’s had. She remembered the sweat of Dima’s palm as her hand was ripped from his, separating the boys from the girls.
There was an odd desire to cover her ears, but she knew it wouldn’t prevent her from hearing the screams. She did, however, pressed her lips tightly together, too afraid that she might scream in the same way she had years ago.
This fire was far more intense than the one that had ripped through her little village. Where they lived didn’t have huge conifers like they did here, so the torching of the branches was something new that would be added to her nightmares. Olena had gathered herself together enough to make it out of the house, but the moment she was in the air, surrounded by horses and people who were going to flee, she struggled again to stay in the present. Perhaps the child in her belly was causing her to lose sight of the bigger picture, that she couldn’t separate this fire from her past. The lines between the two blurred, and she could barely breathe by the time she was out of the house.
The journey was a blur. She vaguely remembered being pulled up onto Aimias’s horse, sitting in front of the man so that she wouldn’t fall off as she felt. The decision had been made quickly, and she hadn’t been able to do much about it. She tried to fight, tried to explain that if Dima returned he wouldn’t know where they would have gone. She begged them to let her stay, to just in case her love came back. But it was all for not-- they would not even entertain the idea of allowing her to stay in her condition.
Aimias took her choice out of her hands.
She held on for dear life as they fled, fighting her own demons as they worked their way out of the fire and into safer ground. As the pace slowed, exhaustion seeped in through her bones, but she couldn’t sleep. Her mind swirled around Dima, around the fact that he wouldn’t know what happened. There had been no way to leave a note, even if he could have read one. What would he think if he returned to a burning pile of ash?
Who would help him fight off his nightmares, like the girls had assisted her? How would he know that she was alive? Would he return at all?
She openly wept in Aimias’s arms.
Once she had spent her tears, she was numb, glad that Aimias would keep her in the saddle-- the chances of her falling were limited by his arm firmly around her middle. As much as she wanted to rest, she couldn’t. She tried, even at his urging, but it was impossible.
What would happen to her now?
As they approached a city, the shadows were their friends. Tucked into Aimias’s cloak, she felt safe, glad for his friendship now. She made a note to thank Iris for allowing her the comfort of her husband. Olena wouldn’t have let anyone else hold onto Dima like she had, especially with what had just happened. Perhaps, when her mind was a little less frantic, she would take a moment to grieve her loss, too.
For now, she was far too happy to see that they had stopped. Aimias dismounted, assisting her down and handing the girl into Chrysanthe’s care, himself moving to his wife’s horse to assist her in dismounting. Standing felt nearly impossible, and as the door was opened, she was glad for the warmth and the seat that Ari moved for her to take. Things moved around her, but she was too numb to take any of it in.
All she could think about was Dima.
About what he would see.
She wanted to cry, but her body refused to produce any more tears, throat raw from the smoke that no further sound would come out.
It seemed as if fire was to be the fate of all the good things in her life. She had vivid memories of the moment in which her childhood fell to the ground in ashes. If she closed her eyes too tightly, she could hear the screams of her mother, who watched her father’s life end at the point of a knife. She could hear the sobs of her sisters as they were raped and left for dead in the smoke filled house. Her mother’s wails echoed in her ears, ending in the same way her father’s had. She remembered the sweat of Dima’s palm as her hand was ripped from his, separating the boys from the girls.
There was an odd desire to cover her ears, but she knew it wouldn’t prevent her from hearing the screams. She did, however, pressed her lips tightly together, too afraid that she might scream in the same way she had years ago.
This fire was far more intense than the one that had ripped through her little village. Where they lived didn’t have huge conifers like they did here, so the torching of the branches was something new that would be added to her nightmares. Olena had gathered herself together enough to make it out of the house, but the moment she was in the air, surrounded by horses and people who were going to flee, she struggled again to stay in the present. Perhaps the child in her belly was causing her to lose sight of the bigger picture, that she couldn’t separate this fire from her past. The lines between the two blurred, and she could barely breathe by the time she was out of the house.
The journey was a blur. She vaguely remembered being pulled up onto Aimias’s horse, sitting in front of the man so that she wouldn’t fall off as she felt. The decision had been made quickly, and she hadn’t been able to do much about it. She tried to fight, tried to explain that if Dima returned he wouldn’t know where they would have gone. She begged them to let her stay, to just in case her love came back. But it was all for not-- they would not even entertain the idea of allowing her to stay in her condition.
Aimias took her choice out of her hands.
She held on for dear life as they fled, fighting her own demons as they worked their way out of the fire and into safer ground. As the pace slowed, exhaustion seeped in through her bones, but she couldn’t sleep. Her mind swirled around Dima, around the fact that he wouldn’t know what happened. There had been no way to leave a note, even if he could have read one. What would he think if he returned to a burning pile of ash?
Who would help him fight off his nightmares, like the girls had assisted her? How would he know that she was alive? Would he return at all?
She openly wept in Aimias’s arms.
Once she had spent her tears, she was numb, glad that Aimias would keep her in the saddle-- the chances of her falling were limited by his arm firmly around her middle. As much as she wanted to rest, she couldn’t. She tried, even at his urging, but it was impossible.
What would happen to her now?
As they approached a city, the shadows were their friends. Tucked into Aimias’s cloak, she felt safe, glad for his friendship now. She made a note to thank Iris for allowing her the comfort of her husband. Olena wouldn’t have let anyone else hold onto Dima like she had, especially with what had just happened. Perhaps, when her mind was a little less frantic, she would take a moment to grieve her loss, too.
For now, she was far too happy to see that they had stopped. Aimias dismounted, assisting her down and handing the girl into Chrysanthe’s care, himself moving to his wife’s horse to assist her in dismounting. Standing felt nearly impossible, and as the door was opened, she was glad for the warmth and the seat that Ari moved for her to take. Things moved around her, but she was too numb to take any of it in.
All she could think about was Dima.
About what he would see.
She wanted to cry, but her body refused to produce any more tears, throat raw from the smoke that no further sound would come out.
The ride was all a blur to Chrysanthe. She still had not had much experience with horses and found that much of her energy as they fled from the fire was taken up in just trying to stay on her horse. Perhaps her mind should have been on Persephone. After all, she was her handmaiden, and the reason that she had left Taengea in the first place. But Perse had plenty of people to look after her. She would have only been one more person helping out in the retinue of people who were at her beck and call. No it was Olena who was Chrysanthe’s primary concern as she clung tightly to her horse, willing herself not to fall off as they rode quickly to safety.
The fire seemed to have shaken Olena quite badly and she was already in a delicate condition. The last thing she needed was something else that might upset her and harm her baby. She should have been resting and sewing clothes for the baby, not riding for her life from a burning building. Besides, if something were to happen to Perse and Chrysanthe and Olena were to find themselves back on the street, Chrysanthe was young, she could work. While she didn’t doubt Olena’s work ethic, the choices of work would be more limited both for the health of the mother and the baby. While these things seemed unlikely, and Chrysanthe knew that Perse would look out for them if she could, Chrysanthe couldn’t help but consider what was necessary in the worst case scenario, just in case.
After what had seemed like an eternity of trying to stay upright on a bouncing animal, they finally arrived at their destination. There was a lot to take in and a lot of context she didn’t know. Apparently this was Ariadne’s father’s house. Presumably this was someone that they knew would take them in and provide for them. Chrysanthe trusted those who knew what they were doing to take care of such things. She didn’t have to worry about all the details of the situation now. She could leave those to the others. No, she was given one task, look after Olena, one she was glad to perform, as she would have wanted to make sure of the woman’s comfort anyway.
Olena looked unsteady on her feet, and Chrysanthe put an arm around her shoulders gently as they walked in, just in case any assistance was needed after the rigor of the ride. Chrysanthe’s own legs were tired from the ride, but she was young and strong. She could sleep once everyone else was taken care of. Chrysanthe was glad for Perse’s foresight to ask for a bed for Olena to lay down in. Chrysanthe added tentatively to Perse’s request. “Might we also have a morsel to eat, or perhaps some tea, just to keep her strength up?” Chrysanthe tried not to second guess that question. It was still uncomfortable for her for food to be so readily available, and she didn’t want to be overstepping her boundaries and requesting food from someone who had none to spare.
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The ride was all a blur to Chrysanthe. She still had not had much experience with horses and found that much of her energy as they fled from the fire was taken up in just trying to stay on her horse. Perhaps her mind should have been on Persephone. After all, she was her handmaiden, and the reason that she had left Taengea in the first place. But Perse had plenty of people to look after her. She would have only been one more person helping out in the retinue of people who were at her beck and call. No it was Olena who was Chrysanthe’s primary concern as she clung tightly to her horse, willing herself not to fall off as they rode quickly to safety.
The fire seemed to have shaken Olena quite badly and she was already in a delicate condition. The last thing she needed was something else that might upset her and harm her baby. She should have been resting and sewing clothes for the baby, not riding for her life from a burning building. Besides, if something were to happen to Perse and Chrysanthe and Olena were to find themselves back on the street, Chrysanthe was young, she could work. While she didn’t doubt Olena’s work ethic, the choices of work would be more limited both for the health of the mother and the baby. While these things seemed unlikely, and Chrysanthe knew that Perse would look out for them if she could, Chrysanthe couldn’t help but consider what was necessary in the worst case scenario, just in case.
After what had seemed like an eternity of trying to stay upright on a bouncing animal, they finally arrived at their destination. There was a lot to take in and a lot of context she didn’t know. Apparently this was Ariadne’s father’s house. Presumably this was someone that they knew would take them in and provide for them. Chrysanthe trusted those who knew what they were doing to take care of such things. She didn’t have to worry about all the details of the situation now. She could leave those to the others. No, she was given one task, look after Olena, one she was glad to perform, as she would have wanted to make sure of the woman’s comfort anyway.
Olena looked unsteady on her feet, and Chrysanthe put an arm around her shoulders gently as they walked in, just in case any assistance was needed after the rigor of the ride. Chrysanthe’s own legs were tired from the ride, but she was young and strong. She could sleep once everyone else was taken care of. Chrysanthe was glad for Perse’s foresight to ask for a bed for Olena to lay down in. Chrysanthe added tentatively to Perse’s request. “Might we also have a morsel to eat, or perhaps some tea, just to keep her strength up?” Chrysanthe tried not to second guess that question. It was still uncomfortable for her for food to be so readily available, and she didn’t want to be overstepping her boundaries and requesting food from someone who had none to spare.
The ride was all a blur to Chrysanthe. She still had not had much experience with horses and found that much of her energy as they fled from the fire was taken up in just trying to stay on her horse. Perhaps her mind should have been on Persephone. After all, she was her handmaiden, and the reason that she had left Taengea in the first place. But Perse had plenty of people to look after her. She would have only been one more person helping out in the retinue of people who were at her beck and call. No it was Olena who was Chrysanthe’s primary concern as she clung tightly to her horse, willing herself not to fall off as they rode quickly to safety.
The fire seemed to have shaken Olena quite badly and she was already in a delicate condition. The last thing she needed was something else that might upset her and harm her baby. She should have been resting and sewing clothes for the baby, not riding for her life from a burning building. Besides, if something were to happen to Perse and Chrysanthe and Olena were to find themselves back on the street, Chrysanthe was young, she could work. While she didn’t doubt Olena’s work ethic, the choices of work would be more limited both for the health of the mother and the baby. While these things seemed unlikely, and Chrysanthe knew that Perse would look out for them if she could, Chrysanthe couldn’t help but consider what was necessary in the worst case scenario, just in case.
After what had seemed like an eternity of trying to stay upright on a bouncing animal, they finally arrived at their destination. There was a lot to take in and a lot of context she didn’t know. Apparently this was Ariadne’s father’s house. Presumably this was someone that they knew would take them in and provide for them. Chrysanthe trusted those who knew what they were doing to take care of such things. She didn’t have to worry about all the details of the situation now. She could leave those to the others. No, she was given one task, look after Olena, one she was glad to perform, as she would have wanted to make sure of the woman’s comfort anyway.
Olena looked unsteady on her feet, and Chrysanthe put an arm around her shoulders gently as they walked in, just in case any assistance was needed after the rigor of the ride. Chrysanthe’s own legs were tired from the ride, but she was young and strong. She could sleep once everyone else was taken care of. Chrysanthe was glad for Perse’s foresight to ask for a bed for Olena to lay down in. Chrysanthe added tentatively to Perse’s request. “Might we also have a morsel to eat, or perhaps some tea, just to keep her strength up?” Chrysanthe tried not to second guess that question. It was still uncomfortable for her for food to be so readily available, and she didn’t want to be overstepping her boundaries and requesting food from someone who had none to spare.
The hard ride into Arcana was all a blur. It was as if Iris wasn't even piloting her own body, her mind and body numb to even the words that were spoken about her. She assumed that she was in some sort of shock. Awe, maybe. Her throat burned from the smoke, her gown was streaked with soot and smelled like burning wood. She didn't flinch at the pain that single thought brought her heart. It was much easier to simply not think. About anything. Though, the lady of Aetaea found herself glaring hard at Lord Stravos as they moved, unable to hide the mounting rage. The want to be beligerant and to seek revenge. But the man had presented himself to the queen and that was both suspect and curious all at once.
For a man that had been so sure of his son's need to secure the throne, it was awfully odd to see him running from that reality now.
Iris was glad that she did not ride with Aimias. She thought that if someone touched her, she might lose her very quiet calm in the same way that Olena had. Something she also tuned out for the sake of keeping her mind clear and off of anything that was not the task at hand. Which had been escape. The lady avoided everyone's eye, sure that it would feel too intimate to meet a gaze, resulting in the sharp sobbing that she wished to do, but wouldn't. Couldn't. For if they had to stop for her, they might all be dead.
Gaze unfocused on anything but the path and following the horse directly in front of her, it was another shock that they finally came to a stop. And then they let their horses go, starting yet another fire to burn the evidence of there being anywhere near Arcana. All of this done without a word on her part. As they walked together through the streets, Iris kept herself as far from the others as she could, still intent on feelign not a touch. Not even the brush of her husband's or her friend's touch. Once, she almost looked at Persephone but let her gaze shy away before she did, every nerve in her body ringing out with such strong fight of flight reactions that she couldn't stomach what might happen if she had met the eyes of her friend.
She did not want to see the queen's guilt or sadness. She didn't want sympathy and she didn't want a pat on the back. She wanted silence and no further movement. She wanted darkness where she could close her eyes and think of nothing and see nothing.
For a long stretch of time, she wished she had stayed in the fires.
The arrival into Hector's home was entirely glossed over in Iris' mind and she didn't realize she was standing in the warmth of a home until she had placed herself by the fire, taking in the heat to sooth her cold limbs. Iris' green gaze settled on the flames, her hands tucked against her in an effort to bring warmth back to them. She stood there, still and unmoving until the queen's voice sounded in her mind. She'd vaguely heard her name and only turned her head the slightest bit to show that she had recognized speech related to her. Iris still didn't speak, saying nothing of Persephone's request for Iris to have a strong drink. Her gaze slid back to the fire, silently shutting everyone out again, just as she had the entire way from Aetaea to Arcana.
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The hard ride into Arcana was all a blur. It was as if Iris wasn't even piloting her own body, her mind and body numb to even the words that were spoken about her. She assumed that she was in some sort of shock. Awe, maybe. Her throat burned from the smoke, her gown was streaked with soot and smelled like burning wood. She didn't flinch at the pain that single thought brought her heart. It was much easier to simply not think. About anything. Though, the lady of Aetaea found herself glaring hard at Lord Stravos as they moved, unable to hide the mounting rage. The want to be beligerant and to seek revenge. But the man had presented himself to the queen and that was both suspect and curious all at once.
For a man that had been so sure of his son's need to secure the throne, it was awfully odd to see him running from that reality now.
Iris was glad that she did not ride with Aimias. She thought that if someone touched her, she might lose her very quiet calm in the same way that Olena had. Something she also tuned out for the sake of keeping her mind clear and off of anything that was not the task at hand. Which had been escape. The lady avoided everyone's eye, sure that it would feel too intimate to meet a gaze, resulting in the sharp sobbing that she wished to do, but wouldn't. Couldn't. For if they had to stop for her, they might all be dead.
Gaze unfocused on anything but the path and following the horse directly in front of her, it was another shock that they finally came to a stop. And then they let their horses go, starting yet another fire to burn the evidence of there being anywhere near Arcana. All of this done without a word on her part. As they walked together through the streets, Iris kept herself as far from the others as she could, still intent on feelign not a touch. Not even the brush of her husband's or her friend's touch. Once, she almost looked at Persephone but let her gaze shy away before she did, every nerve in her body ringing out with such strong fight of flight reactions that she couldn't stomach what might happen if she had met the eyes of her friend.
She did not want to see the queen's guilt or sadness. She didn't want sympathy and she didn't want a pat on the back. She wanted silence and no further movement. She wanted darkness where she could close her eyes and think of nothing and see nothing.
For a long stretch of time, she wished she had stayed in the fires.
The arrival into Hector's home was entirely glossed over in Iris' mind and she didn't realize she was standing in the warmth of a home until she had placed herself by the fire, taking in the heat to sooth her cold limbs. Iris' green gaze settled on the flames, her hands tucked against her in an effort to bring warmth back to them. She stood there, still and unmoving until the queen's voice sounded in her mind. She'd vaguely heard her name and only turned her head the slightest bit to show that she had recognized speech related to her. Iris still didn't speak, saying nothing of Persephone's request for Iris to have a strong drink. Her gaze slid back to the fire, silently shutting everyone out again, just as she had the entire way from Aetaea to Arcana.
The hard ride into Arcana was all a blur. It was as if Iris wasn't even piloting her own body, her mind and body numb to even the words that were spoken about her. She assumed that she was in some sort of shock. Awe, maybe. Her throat burned from the smoke, her gown was streaked with soot and smelled like burning wood. She didn't flinch at the pain that single thought brought her heart. It was much easier to simply not think. About anything. Though, the lady of Aetaea found herself glaring hard at Lord Stravos as they moved, unable to hide the mounting rage. The want to be beligerant and to seek revenge. But the man had presented himself to the queen and that was both suspect and curious all at once.
For a man that had been so sure of his son's need to secure the throne, it was awfully odd to see him running from that reality now.
Iris was glad that she did not ride with Aimias. She thought that if someone touched her, she might lose her very quiet calm in the same way that Olena had. Something she also tuned out for the sake of keeping her mind clear and off of anything that was not the task at hand. Which had been escape. The lady avoided everyone's eye, sure that it would feel too intimate to meet a gaze, resulting in the sharp sobbing that she wished to do, but wouldn't. Couldn't. For if they had to stop for her, they might all be dead.
Gaze unfocused on anything but the path and following the horse directly in front of her, it was another shock that they finally came to a stop. And then they let their horses go, starting yet another fire to burn the evidence of there being anywhere near Arcana. All of this done without a word on her part. As they walked together through the streets, Iris kept herself as far from the others as she could, still intent on feelign not a touch. Not even the brush of her husband's or her friend's touch. Once, she almost looked at Persephone but let her gaze shy away before she did, every nerve in her body ringing out with such strong fight of flight reactions that she couldn't stomach what might happen if she had met the eyes of her friend.
She did not want to see the queen's guilt or sadness. She didn't want sympathy and she didn't want a pat on the back. She wanted silence and no further movement. She wanted darkness where she could close her eyes and think of nothing and see nothing.
For a long stretch of time, she wished she had stayed in the fires.
The arrival into Hector's home was entirely glossed over in Iris' mind and she didn't realize she was standing in the warmth of a home until she had placed herself by the fire, taking in the heat to sooth her cold limbs. Iris' green gaze settled on the flames, her hands tucked against her in an effort to bring warmth back to them. She stood there, still and unmoving until the queen's voice sounded in her mind. She'd vaguely heard her name and only turned her head the slightest bit to show that she had recognized speech related to her. Iris still didn't speak, saying nothing of Persephone's request for Iris to have a strong drink. Her gaze slid back to the fire, silently shutting everyone out again, just as she had the entire way from Aetaea to Arcana.
The ride was exhausting, but there was little time to stop. They were certainly an odd group rushing through the countryside, as they were being chased by a hellbeast. No one slowed as they ran for their lives, beating the fire with haste. They only slowed when the horses could take no more, allowing the pace to shift. But only enough for a bit of reprieve before they continued.
Aimias was no expert rider, but he was certainly better than the woman who was in front of him. He could feel that she felt incredibly weak, wanting nothing more than to sag against him but refusing. She wanted to rest, but there was little he could do to help her. He tried to suggest she sleep, but there was far too much on her mind, it appeared. He longed to ask her to explain what had happened in her life that caused her to break as she had, but he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes glanced between the party, silent as they rode.
He was glad that the young girl had been the one who had made the suggestion to the queen, spurred by his own question. He would have spoken of Arcana himself, but didn’t want to give away anything that may have put them in further danger. As long as they had the Stravos lord with them, he would speak not the name. Aimias had already done his damage-- he would do as little as he could to avoid causing more.
The ride was familiar, so his eyes could focus on his wife for a moment. Guilt filled him, knowing that he had most likely cost her everything. Her life had been so much better before they wed-- how would she be able to look him in the face now? How could she ever trust him again? Knowing what he had done had been one thing, but now she had very little to show for her hard work. Her home was gone-- it would take years before they would be able to recover from it.
What would they do now?
As much as he wanted to speak with her, Aimias stayed quiet like the rest of the group. It wasn’t until they were dismounting their horses that he spoke to Olena specifically, to tell her to keep close. As soon as they were moving through the city, his hand found that of Iris’s elbow, guiding her towards a home he was certain she had never been to. And when the familiar face of Hector was in the doorway, Aimias felt both relieved and guilty. He was the last one in, allowing the rest to settle, moving to Iris’s side. He was a little surprised to see her close to the fire after everything that happened.
Taking the offered cups, he held it out to his wife, physically wrapping her hand around it since she didn’t seem to acknowledge that it was there. His freehand came to the side of her head, pulling her in so that he could kiss her temple. They would need to talk, but he was positive that it wouldn’t happen right now.
There was too much to explain to those in the room. Once they were given a moment alone, he would consider taking her outside to allow her a moment to grieve and curse whomever she needed to.
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The ride was exhausting, but there was little time to stop. They were certainly an odd group rushing through the countryside, as they were being chased by a hellbeast. No one slowed as they ran for their lives, beating the fire with haste. They only slowed when the horses could take no more, allowing the pace to shift. But only enough for a bit of reprieve before they continued.
Aimias was no expert rider, but he was certainly better than the woman who was in front of him. He could feel that she felt incredibly weak, wanting nothing more than to sag against him but refusing. She wanted to rest, but there was little he could do to help her. He tried to suggest she sleep, but there was far too much on her mind, it appeared. He longed to ask her to explain what had happened in her life that caused her to break as she had, but he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes glanced between the party, silent as they rode.
He was glad that the young girl had been the one who had made the suggestion to the queen, spurred by his own question. He would have spoken of Arcana himself, but didn’t want to give away anything that may have put them in further danger. As long as they had the Stravos lord with them, he would speak not the name. Aimias had already done his damage-- he would do as little as he could to avoid causing more.
The ride was familiar, so his eyes could focus on his wife for a moment. Guilt filled him, knowing that he had most likely cost her everything. Her life had been so much better before they wed-- how would she be able to look him in the face now? How could she ever trust him again? Knowing what he had done had been one thing, but now she had very little to show for her hard work. Her home was gone-- it would take years before they would be able to recover from it.
What would they do now?
As much as he wanted to speak with her, Aimias stayed quiet like the rest of the group. It wasn’t until they were dismounting their horses that he spoke to Olena specifically, to tell her to keep close. As soon as they were moving through the city, his hand found that of Iris’s elbow, guiding her towards a home he was certain she had never been to. And when the familiar face of Hector was in the doorway, Aimias felt both relieved and guilty. He was the last one in, allowing the rest to settle, moving to Iris’s side. He was a little surprised to see her close to the fire after everything that happened.
Taking the offered cups, he held it out to his wife, physically wrapping her hand around it since she didn’t seem to acknowledge that it was there. His freehand came to the side of her head, pulling her in so that he could kiss her temple. They would need to talk, but he was positive that it wouldn’t happen right now.
There was too much to explain to those in the room. Once they were given a moment alone, he would consider taking her outside to allow her a moment to grieve and curse whomever she needed to.
The ride was exhausting, but there was little time to stop. They were certainly an odd group rushing through the countryside, as they were being chased by a hellbeast. No one slowed as they ran for their lives, beating the fire with haste. They only slowed when the horses could take no more, allowing the pace to shift. But only enough for a bit of reprieve before they continued.
Aimias was no expert rider, but he was certainly better than the woman who was in front of him. He could feel that she felt incredibly weak, wanting nothing more than to sag against him but refusing. She wanted to rest, but there was little he could do to help her. He tried to suggest she sleep, but there was far too much on her mind, it appeared. He longed to ask her to explain what had happened in her life that caused her to break as she had, but he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes glanced between the party, silent as they rode.
He was glad that the young girl had been the one who had made the suggestion to the queen, spurred by his own question. He would have spoken of Arcana himself, but didn’t want to give away anything that may have put them in further danger. As long as they had the Stravos lord with them, he would speak not the name. Aimias had already done his damage-- he would do as little as he could to avoid causing more.
The ride was familiar, so his eyes could focus on his wife for a moment. Guilt filled him, knowing that he had most likely cost her everything. Her life had been so much better before they wed-- how would she be able to look him in the face now? How could she ever trust him again? Knowing what he had done had been one thing, but now she had very little to show for her hard work. Her home was gone-- it would take years before they would be able to recover from it.
What would they do now?
As much as he wanted to speak with her, Aimias stayed quiet like the rest of the group. It wasn’t until they were dismounting their horses that he spoke to Olena specifically, to tell her to keep close. As soon as they were moving through the city, his hand found that of Iris’s elbow, guiding her towards a home he was certain she had never been to. And when the familiar face of Hector was in the doorway, Aimias felt both relieved and guilty. He was the last one in, allowing the rest to settle, moving to Iris’s side. He was a little surprised to see her close to the fire after everything that happened.
Taking the offered cups, he held it out to his wife, physically wrapping her hand around it since she didn’t seem to acknowledge that it was there. His freehand came to the side of her head, pulling her in so that he could kiss her temple. They would need to talk, but he was positive that it wouldn’t happen right now.
There was too much to explain to those in the room. Once they were given a moment alone, he would consider taking her outside to allow her a moment to grieve and curse whomever she needed to.