The Moderate of the Clans, Fourth to our Emperor's sacred blessing; The Keeper of Sarafan Knowledge born abroad the waves - RP Rahab with individual Headcanon
"That I appreciate your companionship." The shrouded sibling say, his rich honey-sweet voice rolled through his jade mask. The electric blue irises sheen in the dark of the almond-shaped sockets. His off-colored pale silver gauntlet flexed as he gestured out, the two almost gliding next to each other like two missing pieces.
"I don't think I have properly made that known nor gave something worthy as my sibling and fellow lord." Rahab said, voicing a thought long nestled in his mind. He guided along through the halls of the great palace that was the Sanctuary of the Clans. With the serfs doing their endless work in assuring their father's temple and home was as immaculate as any old god.
The banners of the clans drape along the walls, the imperial guard - handpicked and chosen as best of their clans - standing and patrolling as disciplined and devout in their dark armours and scarlets of the Imperial standard upon their mantles and surcoats. All moved aside from the Fourth and Fifthborn like water.
The Rahabim in the Water Forge returned to my feed and I needed to do a thing
As Raziel looked at the swirling tempest of eldritch-pulled waters into the roiling fountain so painstakingly sculpted of marble depicting Rahab in his youth pulling a long-dead king's head, a blade slitting his throat with a great edifice of Kain looming over the scene like a overseeing god. The sacrificed mortal's face twisted of defiant horror as his blood flow into the basin.
'My brother Rahab was always a unspoken threat within the court. Always the mediator. Always the calm in the storm of bickering brothers, but even he had his agendas. His vices. While some of our gifts were obvious and potential, his was subtle. What he lacked in overt gifts in our youth, he made up for in cunning and strategy. Long had his clan been our more explorative pathfinders, what we didn't know, he surely did. And the rivers and lakes that once dotted Nosgoth was a offense to him, for he believed nothing was beyond our reach. Beyond Kain's...'
Raziel prowled around the secreted altar, taking in the detail and reverence. Even after the centuries leading to this sullen forsaken age to an empire that stood for a thousand years, it still looked as beautiful and awe-inspiring. It brought a wash of nostalgia...and envious disgust at the thought of his now extinct clan and its dust-covered territory.
'This altar was dedicated to my brother's long experimentation into the distance that our bodies could withstand with the acidic fatality of water till finally he emerged before us changed. A view into the future, the possibilities and vindication that we were truly gods among ungrateful mortals. And yet, this place ebb with a power, as if something still-"
"Ah, the Honoured of our God returns from Death as foretold." A voice wobbled with jaded age, drawing Raziel's gaze and readied poise to behold one of his recently ended amphibious children emerging from the water. The betrayed lieutenant pulled air into his fist, concentrated with the snap of his will and threw it forward. With a contemptive motion, the Rahabim backhanded the telekinetic strike and it blasted violently behind him.
It was larger than many that Raziel have slaughtered through this drowned abbey, besides that of the Solomonian sharkmen. This one was adorned beautifully as an obvious priest of sorts, the silks and jewelry upon the Rahabim gleamed wet and well-treated. The burning glow of his scarlet irises told enough, an elder - even older than a number of the Abbey's guardians.
No matter, Raziel held his talons around the glowing Reaver and about to strike before it bowed, "Welcome, Lord Raziel."
That gave him pause and the squinting glare of curiosity stirred, "Do I know you?" The wraith questioned and the Rahabim tilted its hooded head. "Mm...perhaps not, I was but a unworthy before your ascended gaze. I tended to my Father's starting flocks in the half of the empire's gilt age. I am Serhann, Attendant to his Blood Fountain."
The Rahabim gestured outward to the great artefact behind Raziel. "Serhann. I have heard of you once or two...no matter, you may join your treacherous father and his children that dared to stand in my way." The fact that altar-priest didn't seem burdened or react as Raziel hoped drained a bit of his violent inclination. "I have seen no other way, my Lord. Even if the barest hope that you may never find this holy place, but my father had told us your wrath would scourge across the empire."
Serhann strode forward, even with the wet hide, he made little sound on his taloned feet. His eyes looked outwards to the fountain and its entire majesty, breathing out that caused water to squirt and dribble from his gills. "It was a beauty...before all this..." He sighed, not giving Raziel much concern, long accepted his end.
"Nostalgia won't save you, murderer. You will die as my clan did." Raziel say, rearing his spectral blade back. However, Serhann's reaction was sharp, and almost insulted, as he turned his head enough for a eye to look back to the ghost of a bloody past. "We did not murder your children...my father was the only one to insist against what came after."
"What?" Raziel questioned, lowering the Reaver's tip, with the fill of something within his void of a gut. Answers?
"My clan defied what the others have done. Long had we been allies, Lord...and my Father remembered that. We remembered that."
"Lies! As much of a sycophant Rahab is-' Raziel caught himself, hardening his soul as he felt a wave of questioning shame. His brother and clan were never known as liars and, even with all of his hatred, he sensed that fact remained true. Rahab's voice whispering into his mind, the echo of his Lore.
'Lies are abhorrent of our Lord and Lies may never pass the lips of his True Followers.'
Raziel shook his head, 'Then what did you do? What did you do whilst my clan was being slaughtered!?"
Serhann turned fully towards him, "We never told them of Coorhagen..."
The babe wailed with such a temper and its mother was shaking in utter fear as she tried to calm it. "Please, my sweet. Please, not infront of our Lord. Please-" She quietly begged, even as her own breath was quivering at the edge of joining her child. There was when the cold shadow fell over her.
The baby cried in its bundle, held tight to her bosom. Her hazel eyes looked up at the figure before her, his hooded head tilted. Face under a crowned coral-shaped mask. The rain parting and following through the purposeful grooves swirling and dispelling away from the weather-coated robes. "Why are you in the rain?" The Lord of the Coast questioned with a voice was deep and soothingly rich as the rare summer honey.
The baby's cry remained strong but softened just enough as the woman answered, her curls clinging to her pale face. "I-I...I needed to see a friend, m-my Lord." She added fast after a stumble of rightful fearful meekness. The pale blue irises peering through the mask's sockets shifted slightly with a soft hum. "Your child, she cries in hunger. Is your friend worth more than that hunger?"
Rahab saw the flash of defensive anger, it was the tiniest spark, but it was gone before even a heart finished beat. "No, my Lord. I... can’t provide for her as of late."
While all her focus was on him, she was very aware of the small retinue behind him. The slender armoured guard dressed like their lord but more attired to their beautiful, interweaved armour and tight-limbed robes to keep the rain out, nevermind the layered over-coats. Their swords were kept drawn and eyes beyond them despite their regal pose. Among them was one adored wolf's fur along her hooded cloak and jaded mask, she sat on the only horse. Gilded eyes watched with gentleness.
Rahab slowly came down on the balls of his feet. A gloved hand reached. The mother stiffened like a cornered animal, and she was caressed along her freckled cheek and neck. How she inhaled, quivering as his power flowed into a cold, intimate balm to her fear, gnawing hungry and anxiety till she was almost melted towards her Lord.
"Calm." He whispered and the baby's cry bubbled and lulled into a whimper. Before she knew her, the mother realized Rahab had his cloak out to shield them both as he thumbed the tears off her child's cheeks. "Hush now..."
The woman looked at the vampiric lord with awe, her fear becoming something more. Her eyes never leave Rahab as he let the months-old child grab on his gloved finger. "You are a strong one, like your mother..." He chuckled. A flush passing her cheeks, bowing her head and eyes avert. "You are too kind, my lord."
"No." He says matter-of-factly. "I am not...but someone turn me more to your blights." In that, there was a gentle jest as his head turned to the rider. Their face turned slight in shyness. Then he gently cupped under the baby and her mother's arms, "Rise..."
It wasn't a command, but a word of strength that flowed through the woman's cold limbs. He gently guided her towards the horse and bowed his head before its rider, whom gently took the instinctive reach from the mortal.
Both guiding the little woman up and infront of the rider. A gentle motherly voice behind the mask, "You are safe."
Rahab sighed, brushing his gloved claws upon the rider's thigh and they crossed claws for a moment before letting his companion continue their walk through the rein. He is glad he persuades the Wolf to take his mare this evening...
Rahab's gills flared. His bestial snout flexed and tail pushed his inert body for what felt like an millennia. Maybe it has been an millennia. Until now, he was resting at the bottom of his deep sanctum's floor cushioned by a great sponged bed crafted by his darling Aquarii.
The Hunger gnawed at his being, the semblance of a higher mind teased and pointed him in a direction. He ordered his children to awaken him, but this was...too early. Yes, he felt it. There was a presence.
The functioning emperor's great form pushed upwards. His mind stretched, unseen claws brushed and pulled on a device. It opened one of his secret tunnels leading out from his sunken palace. What news had the desolence of Nosgoth bring now?
Rahab held his servant gently in his lap. The man had lived for seventy years, but to the vampire it seemed like yesterday that this man was but a babe born from the womb of his court singer. She was a good woman, well educated and attentive to the clan's ears. Her creativity and gentle soul brought a sort of peace in times of the sun's dominance. Whilst many slept, her voice echoed in the palace with the haunting beauty of the chorus and musicans.
The Aquarii were alwaays a worthy retinue to caretake. With all of her fury and suspicions tamed, Euryale was worthy to traini his mortals. Sometimes, Rahab wondered if he was too harsh upon her since that night...
"Master." A withered voice whispered, drawing Rahab back to the present. Tired hazal eyes looked up at him. Aged lips smacked before a quivering hand gently touched the lord's arm. "It is good to see you, Master."
"And it is good to see you, Argas." Rahab returned. His face was a mask of even grace, his grey skin smooth and taut on his high cheekbones and well cared, yet his electric blue eyes were intimate of attention. Argas knew his master loved him, otherwise why appear now?
"You are looking magnificent as always, my gracious lord." Argas muttered, so pleased to get to see his lord one more time. His body was telling him it was time. Rahab can hear his heart slowing. "And you are looking peaceful, Argas. Did I tend to you well, my servant?" That gave the aquarius pause, his greyed hair was still plentiful on his calp and his tattoos held onto his aged skin. A little smile as he chuckled, "Of course, my Master. I have never even thought otherwise. My children and children's children will always know who their caretaker is...you tend to us all so well..."
Rahab allowed the rarest gift to his servants; a little smile. "You will rest in peace knowing you have served me more than well and your bloodline will remain mine."
That was the last thing Argas heard before he passed, his skin cold as icy lips rest on his brow.
In the pitter-patter of the hailstorm, the winds whipping and tugging at the figure. The rain was stinging to the eyes, but they knew fear. They could see the electrical blue glaring from the squinting eyes of the pale mask under its hood.
The hunters turned, protecting the remaining few of escaped slaves. Their crossbows in their grip. Even with the deafening booms of lightning, they could hear the insidious hiss of the barbed whip-blades within their stalker's grip.
The dark blue material shrouding the vampire from the waters that should have protected the humans in their most promising chance of freedom. Only to be find themselves hunted what seemed to be the most meek of the vampiric clans. Only to be chased so thoroughly. There were only three men left of a twenty-man corterie.
In the Dark Forest, rife of swamp and beasts, they never would have thought the vampires would have chased them this deep end and so perfectly. Just as they hoped they would think...the Alukae had been too successful in their existence. Sometimes, it was better to be forgotten.
It made the prey so complecent. The umuri whirled overhead and the piercing rains were hurled into a rolling wave of blinding telekinesis! They had no chance...
Rahab knitted his brows at the sound of the crying. His head turned while his officers spoke of the plans, eyes searching beyond the room. "My lord,' one of them queried, 'do we need to quiet the babe?" He gestured, "You may continue." Already in movement to slip out and follow the crying.
His sharp ears could hear the maidens muttered and hissing angrily, demanding the nurse to quiet the child whilst their lord was planning for the next movements. He followed it to a room, pulling it open to the power of strong lungs that it actually made him flinch a bit.
The baby was wailing while a small bundle of women looked like spotted does in pure terror to him. All of them mortal and pallid. He paid them little mind but the one holding the child. His perfectly soft face illuminated by the candles, all by the deep sockets holding his electric blue eyes.
"Are you the mother?" He questioned, voice piercing the baby's crying to the young woman holding it. Her tired eyes on the verge of crying herself in fear of what may happen next. "Answer him, Merri!" One of the women urged, only to be instantly silenced by his eyes.
It wasn't a demand but she quivered, her fear climbing twicefold that he imagined she would voided herself at this rate. It almost offended him, but the fear had a place in all this. And so, his power extended out to her before the other women would do something foolish in their desire to remain under his graces.
"Come. Here." He commanded with the Dark Gift roused in his veins. Her fear drowning by his overpowering presence and face becoming a mask of compliance, rising up to her feet and lifting the crying baby bundled in its blanket to him like a worshipper with a sacrifice. Rahab gently scooped the baby in his hands, then - in watchful mimicry of the mothers he've watched over the decades - close to bosom.
"What is wrong with it?" He asked.
"I-I...' the mother, Merri, swallowed in her charmed ignorance, 'do not know. I have fed her. I have checked her diaper...she may be sick." Tears fell down her cheeks. Rahab put a finger against the baby's neck and thumb with it to feel its glands. They were swollen. The back of his fingers to brow, heating up.
His eyes closed, listening to the little sound of liquid in each inhale and screaming exhale. That little heart fighting. Muscus. He said nothing at first. "I will take this child..."
The vampire said, "Tend to her whilst I handle her babe." That was an order that the women took as law, catching Merri as he let his power go and she almost crumbled. The last thing he cared to hear was, 'Where's my baby?'
Sometimes fear had a place, but a healthy generation was a graceful generation. They all started somewhere...
Admiral Solomon, the Last Great Pirate-Lord. When fate demanded his head taken at the gallows of Freeport for his many crimes, instead the Serpent of Kain came to offer another of his many escapes from justice.
The Destroyer of the Royal Fleet with the thunderous cannons of the Leviathan, the jewel of his nefarious reaving fleet.
The First of the Rahabim Court and closest of the patriarch's council.
He who reaches beyond Nosgoth's shores to new blood and lands. None shall escape the raging seas whilst he sails, such is his oath to his Sire.
Beware the Old Man who survives what devours Young Men.
The cliff-face was a great fall smoothed by the centuries of Nosgoth’s erratic storms beating the mountainside into a rolling expression of nihilism. Where there was once the character of jagged stone and jutting trees, the Pillars’ fall have brought nothing but the gradual erase of the land’s histories till only the great Empire’s indomitable dominion remained. Great kingdoms of old. The stretching spans of forests. The snaking rivers. Even the rolling valleys. Rahab could only remember what was. The wind slashed one of the pawns of the land’s murderer, the Fourthborn withstand it as he strode along.
The night was warm. The summer season was perhaps the most dangerous to vampirekind, even with the smokestacks vomiting the stretching darkness from Turel’s industries.
Especially for the Fourth Lieutenant’s clan, their divine flesh was becoming less tolerant to the world of light by the century. However, it came with a gift that none could hope to mimic. Not without the gift of his own nor the painstaking preparations one had to suffer to gain it.
Rahab’s storm blue eyes followed the running vomit of water pushing through one of the dams made to redirect Nosgoth’s last great arteries. Some more for farming and keeping some vegetation alive. Others to keep the human heathens in a purposeful migration to the Hetherlands. Let them think themselves safe…only to be hunted for sport. Let them think themselves a chance of returning. The Empire could only entertain itself of war games and politics for only so long before the Blood of Kain stir them into a desire of battle. Even now, Rahab could feel it and he needed it quelled.
For his part, it came in the form of a little…influencing to one of Dumah’s blunt schemes. He could see his immediate sibling’s war-tug filled with thralls trying to make for the Dasus River that snaked towards the Sarafan Fields – the greatest battlefield of the Vampire species’ greatest enemy that the Six Clans fought and exterminated. Their husks still impaled in a forest of pikes and their souls trapped by the darkest sorceries that Melchiah could conjure to ensure their suffering.
Now what his brother’s warborn were up to, the past few months they have been expanding their influences and hoping to gain a intrusive growth to their blood-trade by pressgang and mercenary with the other clans. Rahab ignored it for a time, the Third Clan’s warriors were plentiful and served well in his territory. However, with Dumah’s great clan came an arrogance of believing itself unquestioned and all things below them were under their right.
Tonight, Rahab will rectify that.
He leapt forward, the wind howling at his ears before angling himself into a dive. Hands forward. Feet back. The vampire lord was a falling speed into the roaring waters. A suicide for any other vampire in these black-kissed lands, but for Rahab – the water is his hunting ground. His form gone in the white arching waves and following the harsh force down-river.
Rahab snarled as he spiralled around in his audience chamber, his tail propelling his powerful divine visage through the murky waters. His maw still rippling from the feel of crushing his elder brother’s bones and decrepit corpse of a form, how it felt melting into bubbling ooze of ectoplasm as he snapped the ghoul into nothingness.
However, he wasn’t dead. He was beyond death now. The Patriarch of the Fourth Clan had already seen him return twice already. His flesh was slowly reknitting from the slashes down by the spectral blade that once snaked down Raziel’s left arm. However, it was far slower than any weapon that has so sparsely pierced his indomitable hide. It couldn’t have been…the curved blade was telling but-
There it was again. He could feel the shifting ripple in the air. The way between the Land of the Dead and the Living has been breached again. Beyond the shield of the dark waters, a few of the stained glasses windows had been shattered and the piercing rays of the dying sun were spearing into the chamber. Even one as powerful as he, the Drowned Abbey was far from the diminishing smokestake’s black curtain whilst the sun’s rise and fall were at its strongest, was a deadly affair. His evolution of adaptability fathered Kain’s dark potency had provided him with the dominance of the rivers, lakes and sea but it came at a terrible price: a faltered fortitude against the sun.
His clan had to hide in the darkest waters and most shrouded of lands to survive the day now in their monstrous devolution. And Rahab was barely any better. He could feel his innate weariness in the Beast's manifestation begging him to retreat, to denounce this battle and live another night.
No. This is his destiny. This is his fate, as it was decreed by his Lord, Master and Sire. Rahab knew his death was here and he had no fear. For the Great Plan long spun by Kain, he made one last sacrifice for Vampirekind and his beloved Sire. He who never betrayed his trust nor confidence.
Rahab, Master of all things touched by the baneful Waters, rose like a great leviathan. His affairs were already made before this battle. His Aquarii will spread his commandments as his Lord’s Regent across the land and sea. Oh dearest wolf...
Rahab’s draconic face snarled as he exploded out to Raziel, the fair-pated wraith, had a bolt of twisting telekinesis forging between his claws. He might die but he made sure his vengeful brother did not win his soul and power easily. And when it shot past Rahab’s flaring crest and shoulder, talons outstretched to have one last murderous glee, there was a monstrous smile in that unhinging maw.
Then…he felt the sunset’s bane strike his back with all of it coiling around him. The Pain. The Sweet Agony. The Beast howled as the ceiling baptized in Nosgoth's sunlight.
Rahab missed his brother by mere fingerbreadth before he flailed, snarled and howled with his divine flesh bubbling, broiling and crackling with the stench of burning fish. All was coming to an end.
“I AM UNDONE!” Â
The last theatrics of a defiant conspirator so consumed by his dark evolution. You have won once again, Brother. Use this sacrifice well. His Lord, save us. Save Nosgoth from the follies done.
The Dumahim took to the frontal assault as devoted as one would expect for the war aspirants. Rahab took a moment to appreciate the hard-drilled savagry that his brother put into his clan, nevermind the humans he managed to attract into his ranks. It was a momentary observation before he did his part.
With the map scribbled by his charmed familiars, he followed the undercrypt leading into the fortress' underbelly. He and a select retinue, the rest of his forces were supplement to the Dumahim siege led by Solomon.
At his back, Narissa and Euryale stalked with three of their chosen. The fledglings followed with their predatory stealth and the natural yearn to prove themselves tempered by Rahab's already open expectation; fulfill the siege and bleed their prey with the tactful precision to ensure a clean victory. Anything else was an offense to him.
The undercrypt was interwined with the fort's sewer system, some sections flooded and fortunately, marked on the map. He have studied it for several nights along with proved layouts to the fort and its surrounding area, Ashrif making double confirmation with his network. All to this moment. Most importantly, this route was made for the intent of escape or smuggling in resources or people. One of several possibilities. And when they were coming to a more lively presence, the sparse patrol of the defenders told enough. Their paranoia had validation, how long will they last to this siege? How long before they ran like rats?
Rahab speculated a few months at least. They could draw it out that long. However, Dumah did not want such sport. He did not have the patience like Turel. He can be entertained only so long. Frankly, the Fourthborn did not desire the possibility of reinforcements to route their jointed legion. They may be vampires, but nature already gave them complications and humans are very keen of taking advantage to any given opportunity.
Through humans, Rahab learned.
The guards that were slain in the dank darkness below - by slit throats, drained veins and carved lives - Rahab measured and worked his every technique. He was the example and his kindred were to follow it. Narissa was a prowling wolf, her keen desire was a bloody one. Reckless yet genuine. Euryale was more experienced. Every movement a calculation, a consideration made in thoughts of her creator, and the quiet yearn for the slightest confirmation.
Rahab knew he had to be careful and understood why his own sire was so apathetic. He kept a purposeful distance or risk his children turning on each other for attention. The Fourthborn knew he attempt similar, even with this siege. He tempered himself . He must be the example or risk corruption in the hierarchy.
His electric blue eyes glanced to a manhole. "Here."
The court was gathering in the palace throne room. His children of distinction, stretching six generations from his first-chosen to their grandchilders'. Easily near two hundred of several occupations across his terrority brought before him. Rahab sat on his throne fashioned of two arched sea serpents and bowed to frame his cushioned back and seat.
The Fourth Lord under the Emperor looked at each face. Several he memorized and knew. Others were new. It has been as such for the past several centuries. The old slain by politicking, arrogance, and just foolishness to be replaced by the ambitious, the worthy and the deviant. He watched it all. The only reason of allowing the vices was...
Rahab hated to admit it was the mere disdain of it all. He expect his fledglings to be proper and worthy of his gift. To see those willing to dishonour him, it will come sooner or later their punishments before his true sons and daughters. Next to him, on a step down from the palaquin was one such. Isaac was also surveying the courtroom before he looked onto his father of tutelage and adoption.
He said nothing, only a bow of loving respect. Rahab nodded in greeting as he gestured, allowing his fae-son to enjoy his fellow clansmen.
As if to replace him was the First. Lord-Admiral Solomon strode with his naval swagger, his rich blue-and-golden trimmed coat floating from his broad shoulder. His mortal age remained etched and intimate with that grand beard and mustache, tricorn hat removed in respect.
"Good evening, my great sire. Wise and tempered as the sea,' he said with his accented grandieur. Behind him were a few of his officers, who stepped just a few paces back before coming onto their knee before their sire. He bowed more gracious and low in utter submission and love. 'I come from the Great Southern Sea, bountiful of gifts onto you but none could hope to match your graciousness. I hope the nights have been fair onto you, especially as the new blooms of our world stirs."
And the mentioned treasures were carried by slaves, bowed yet strong from their lifetime of tethering ropes, pulling the deck-works and serving to the demanding Solomon and his fleet. The great chests could easily crush a man, but each one was carried by six easily filled to their brim with gems, coins, trophies and others. Rahab appreciated the gesture that his Lord-Admiral delivered, even if he personally had no need of them. They served better as additions onto the Rahabim jewelers and clothiers.
"I thank you, Solomon. My dearest captain of captains. My First and Closest of truth. Please,' he said with his talons flexed. 'Rise and stand with your peers. Place your gifts where all may marvel."
"As you wish, my king." Solomon said, putting his hat on and commanded with a swirl of hand to his thrall while his officers did as ordered, joined among the others.
Rahab withheld the need to sigh. He looked over again, almost seeming to search for someone but none seemed to grab his eye. Only to stand up, his long silk robes flowing over his shoulders and arms as he opened his arms. "Soon, my children. It will be our clan's most treasured of months. Where the beginning of life is said to be for Nosgoth. Where the long nights of Winter surrender for the newest of life. Life that we now control. Where the waters are diverted and directed by our hands. Where the dams hold back for our kindred. Where the great roads had been made. Where the lakes grow greater for ours. Where we became Nosgoth's great carvers whilst my brother's stacks freed us from the Sun."
He took a moment. "When we claimed this land for our dominion. When the human kingdom that once ruled became ours."
The sound of the vampires nodded and agreed without saying anything, daring not to interrupt or divert their patriarch's thoughts. His armored fingers flexed a bit as his azure eyes glown like electricity a moment. "Our month is to come. Several will rise from their evolution and many more to enter their own rest. we shall celebrate in a feast of blood and games. To see our gifts true and the Empire reminded why we of the Fourth Clan remain under our Emperor's grace. You are the Children of Rahab. You are the Rahabim and you are the serpents to claim the lives of His enemies, with beauty and finesse. We are grace. We are everlasting..."
And the Rahabim clapped in rising approval and agreement, followed with their glasses filled with sanguine.
Rahab blinked under his mask. He was distracted and feeling an abnormal fatigue, but it reminded him of a better time. It made the lord chuckle, a gloved hand lifted and tapped on the nose.
"Mm, thank you." His soft voice hums before going along.
