The Evelyn Scourge

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐈 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 'she was just a woman, who refused to get on all fours' guild leader, absent mother, divine being.

[kallistetheharpy]

Once Evelyn's velveteen voice began to pour into the air between them, Kalliste felt a familiar flush of excitement behind her ears, and she finally locked eyes with the enchanting creature. Excitement and a spark of desire warmed the Harpy who thought she had never seen a woman so beautiful as this one.

The Harpy had been held to a certain standard in her previous life. Though sexual social mores were not rigid by any means on Anemos Gennisi, it had been implicit that she and her sisters were beholden to their purported divine father's grand designs. She, just like her sisters, were expected to save themselves for a consort, chosen by her father and equally divine to herself. Things were different now, when her connection to the God of wonder was taken from her... so too, she felt, was her obligations to wait.

Beside Kalliste, stood a creature of such allure it was only natural for the Harpy's heart to skip a beat, for the breath in her throat to catch. As Evelyn spoke, Kalliste could vaguely sense a shift in atmosphere. In her peripheral vision, Kalliste could see that some seemed to fidget uncomfortably, some altogether walking away from the warm candle lit bubble, apparently offended by something or someone. But the Harpy was quite absorbed in the visage at her side, and therefore wilfully ignorant to the circumstances around them, so she might focus every sense she had on the exquisite stranger.

Slowly, Kalliste silently repeated Evelyn's words so she might process them with deliberation. She felt heady, the beads of perspiration and the weight of exertion gone from her mind. The woman had sons, and apparently unruly ones. Kalliste should have been shocked, but she was instead amused. Kalliste had been a clumsy child, destroying so much in her wake as she slowly learned where her wings ends were. Those who had worshipped her and her sisters would have spent hours, days, weeks creating a sculpture to honour the harpies or the Gods, and Kalliste would pulverise it in one instant without so much as realising it. As she grew older of course, appreciation and consideration came slowly, but Kalliste still enjoyed a little mischief. Just a little.

The Harpy giggled breathlessly, grateful for the thin partlet that covered her bosom, counting on it to disguise her heaving chest. Kalliste pressed a small hand to her smiling lips, cutting off her soft laughter. Evelyn's ice blue eyes were piercing; the flames reflected in them dancing lasciviously.

Evelyn's next words were heavy with suggestive implication, much like the rest of her. From her long, scarlet horns, to her slender, shapely figure, everything about her was inviting, nay it was demanding. There was a promise of formidability about her too. Kalliste knew, without knowing Evelyn's species, that it would be prudent to remain alert, despite the pleasant tingle up her spine.

"Oh!" Kalliste's soft lips parted in surprise, and her cheeks grew rosy. The harpy glanced around them, her hazel eyes catching the eyes of others, seeing some disapproval in them. She was not aware of the customs here in Laras or in this particular temple, but she knew that conventional philanderers did not typically initiate flirtation in places of worship. Strange, Kalliste thought, for she had often been pleased to see islanders falling for one another, stealing moments here and there to shower the other with affections, but Gods could be cruel and covetous.

A few moments elapsed and Kalliste failed to think of something to say in response. She was conflicted in so many ways, and quite intimidated by it all; the bewitching stranger, the openly curious and condemnatory eyes on them and the dim candlelight. There were many reasons to flee, there were some reasons to politely decline and even less reasons for her to still be stood rooted to the spot, yet there she stood, a little awe struck for several heartbeats.

Kalliste bowed her head, and while averting her gaze from onlookers and the statue, she took one tiny sidestep closer to Evelyn. The Harpy pressed her hands together at her waist, embodying demurity and reverence, but beneath her golden-brown lashes, hazel eyes flashed with delight. She did not touch the woman who had not invited physical contact, but Kalliste did tease the hem of Evelyn's dripping black gown, with the pooling of her own dress; white and black fabrics aligned in stark contrast.

“I want to receive that as a compliment, but I suppose it would depend on who your kind are? Or what” Kalliste added.

[evelynscourge]

The woman was silent but in such a place it didn't seem strange to take a quiet pause in one's mind. Evelyn, in the silence, simply allowed her interest to return to the statue, wondering how it came to be. Some of the buildings had survived the last war, including her own familial estate, and she expected many of the temples had, so how long it had been since the statue had been formed was unknown.

Obviously Evelyn did not feel the woman's fabric touch her own, nothing connecting her to the garment that would allow for it, and as her gaze had averted itself she didn't equate the movement from the corner of her eye to anything but a gentle shift done by the other woman.

"I am a succubus," she answered. "So taking it as a compliment is wholly up to you, most would not." It wasn't a compliment if she did it to everyone, right? Not that Evelyn was that brazen but people expected that she was.

"Besides, I am confident you are not short on compliments," Evelyn acknowledged as her gaze returned to the woman, taking a quick glance over well developed wings. "You must receive them with such frequency my words are but salt and pepper to a full dish."

[dracothscourge]

His smile grew strained. Though Evelyn was still ignorant of her son's return to the life of the living, Dracoth was not. He had acted as investor and procurer for the resurrector Morana who had brought Harin back to them. The procedure had been long and tedious, and until Dracoth was sure Harin would not succumb once more to death's kiss, he had no intention of telling Evelyn. Even if and when Harin was safe to be introduced to people, Evelyn most specifically, Dracoth was devising plans to avoid being the one to break the news.

Dracoth was not worried Evelyn would have some tedious moral quandaries surrounding the reanimation of her dead son. No, he was concerned with the potential for Evelyn's fury at being kept in the dark. Additionally, Dracoth had seen her suffer, and had said nothing, lying by omission day in, day out. At any moment, he could have offered his mother hope, but the fear of failure kept his lips sealed. He would rather lie till his black heart ached, than risk subjecting Evelyn to repeated mourning.

"Mother, there is nothing you would not have done to ease whatever pains ailed him. Find comfort in the fact that all sons have secrets from their mothers." Dracoth thought he would rake his living brother over hot coals for answers, but Harin had returned to them; a blank slate. He had no answers to give, and it drove Dracoth just as wild as he knew it drove his mother.

"If anyone failed Harin... it was I, his confidant, his brother!" Dracoth's youthful face darkened as he spoke. In the bleak days that followed Harin's suicide, Dracoth had whispered similar contrition's. Nothing Evelyn had said could assuage his guilt, and quickly, the Incubi's discomfort was doubled tenfold as his mother strived to soothe his conscience. He had not spoken on it since. There was nothing in this world that Dracoth fought with more vehemence than regret.

"Alas!" Dracoth hastily continued before Evelyn could respond. He regretted inserting his own guilt into the conversation. Especially when he knew full well that Harin's mistake had been rectified, and so surely their misgivings were now rendered redundant.

As he hurried on, Dracoth took several generous swigs of the spiced berry wine, grateful for its magical potency.

"I am not really leaving! I am only ever a dream away, and I will visit you often! Besides... this-" Dracoth gestured to the celebrations around them, his dark gaze coolly assessing the other courtiers. "This might very well lead to nothing, and then I will ride home at the first opportunity!"

Inspired by the town’s declaration of independence, Dracoth had endeavoured to assist in every way he could. He was, however, old, and with age came pessimism, no matter how hard one resists. The Incubi was prepared to fight for the town, to defend it, and to use his wits and charms to further Destarin's prospects, but he was prepared for imminent failure. He would not die for this town; he would not subject his family to another loss. Dracoth would see Destarin burned to the ground before he would allow any further harm to come to his family. There was a permanency to be found in the loyalty forged by bloodlines.

Could Destarin one day hold a candle to that feeling of security?

[evelynscourge]

The notion both sons kept things from her did nothing to ease the emotions that the liquor had summoned. Yes, it had to be some sort of fae wine because she did not normally feel so inebriated, though perhaps it was also that she had not fed in some time, distracted over the past few days with worries for Asvari and what might happen if what the council had chosen to do was discovered by the courts before they were all ready. His statement that he had secrets was something she had felt sure of, was confident as to something being hidden from her that had changed the man recently and his comment only solidified this.

His guilt was something she had tried to assuage, as, despite the role he had played in Harin's upbringing he was not the man's father. He was his brother. In the end it was not Dracoth who had chosen Harin's existence, it was her, and so she was responsible for his happiness. It was harder to assuage it now though, as he mind was more focused on the fact both of her children were hiding things from her.

"You aren't supposed to keep things from me," she stated, taking a final sip of the glass in her hand, a trail of a droplet that had not reached her lips running back down to the base of the glass. At least she did not look as drunk as she felt, so accustomed to her stature and posture only Dracoth could likely tell from her words that she was inebriated. "Neither of you were supposed to keep anything from me. Why would telling me you both were bring me any sort of comfort?"

Glancing around at the display Evelyn too felt a level of pessimism but unlike Dracoth this was uncommon for her. Evelyn had always felt that one day Destarin could be a sort of Utopia, where people like her mother could run and find a true sanctuary, and not just a place to hide from those who would do her harm. She had her own plans in motion to protect Dracoth, to protect the guild and the town because to Evelyn the town was her family, so it was good she did not now Dracoth felt otherwise, it have only furthered her question as to what had happened to change him in this way. The boy who would do anything for another at the expense of himself seemed to continue to disappear before her eyes.

"Would you though?" she asked of him returning home if the Kingdom fails. "I do not believe you are leaving solely to fulfil some duty. I do not understand why you won't tell me what I've done that has caused all of this," she gestured generally to all of him. The jewellery he wore now felt less of a mockery, and more of a gaudy display.

Evelyn placed the glass down on a table, not sure where it should be abandoned. "Was it because I let him have these things?" she asked regarding Harin's own materialistic nature. Dracoth had been raised by parents that sought to raised him like themselves, someone to fight against those who would harm the undeserving, but Harin had been raised by Evelyn, a guilt that he lacked the father his two elder siblings had she had conceded in many ways to indulgences. "Are you angry with me that he was allowed to care less, that your father wanted you to be as we were so you might have the choice to lead if you wanted it, that you might be generous and strategic, so we didn't buy you pretty things or let you boss around the few house staff there were with an indifferent tone." Evelyn shook her head, a slow exhale as she considered how he seemed now with the small amount of guild staff that had cared for their home. "Why won't you tell me what has happened?" she drunkenly accused, her voice growing louder.

All she had wanted from her son was a dance and things had taken a horrible turn.

[dracothscourge]

WHEN Dracoth's jokes failed to rouse his mother from her low mood, he grimaced in empathy. The Incubi had lived with his mother for almost his entire life, and until now, he had not felt no compulsion to leave the nest. He had enjoyed her company and her mentorship, and was loathe to lose it now. There was no other move for him to make, however. Since his brothers' miraculous return to the life of the living, the blinding grief had abated, only to be replaced by guilt. Despite his best efforts to bury some of his pain in superficial and materialistic pleasures; the mirror still reflected back somebody who was without cause and without relevance.

"My dear mother." Dracoth began, setting down his own goblet on the table beside them. "I will never be too old for you to reprimand and send to my room!" and though he joked, there was depth to his eyes, sincerity. He was in his hundreds now, and had the great fortune of knowing how good he had it, while he still had it. Recent tensions aside, Dracoth still felt they had a close relationship. He was sorry to leave so soon after their recent conversations. "I am not so far away that we will not see each other frequently, and this will be a good thing." Dracoth assured Evelyn. "We need one of our own at court mother, to look out for our interests, and I... have the time!" He meant to reassure, alas he knew his mother well. He knew she was a strongly opinionated daemon who saw no good in his Dukedom, but she had raised independent, free thinkers who forged their own way. Evelyn had the guild, she had a legacy. Dracoth meanwhile had a network of lovers and spies, and an affinity for the vielle. A great Incubi such as himself, surely had more to offer the world than sex parties and devilishly good looks.

[evelynscourge]

Evelyn was glad at least he did not attempt to say it would be good for her to be alone in their family home. She had not been alone in the home before ever. It had been her husband's familial home and she had taken residence there with him upon his parents death, already pregnant with Dracoth. In a way he had been there as long as she had. Now Harin had died (to her knowledge), her daughter was not near, and Dracoth was leaving. The halls would feel endless, the rooms abated of affection and life would seep from it's foundation. Evelyn did not think it would do her good to be so alone.

"I do not agree," she said simply, something he already knew. For Evelyn him going to court would only corrupt him further into a life without the intention of the community he had grown up in, wealth and privilege and status would continue to eat away at him until his soul no longer existed inside his body. She could be...dramatic.

Certainly she would argue she had not raised them all to be independent free thinkers. Harin had been raised as her little shadow. Her daughter not raised by her at all. Dracoth perhaps was the only independent one and she did not believe she was involved in that at all. Evelyn had never thought indepdence of much value. Community was the only strength. She'd had her sisters, her husband, the guild, her children. Independence was a lie told to children so they would not remain financial burdens into adulthood. Evelyn did not see her children as a burden for a moment.

Taking another drink of what he had handed to her she attempted to swallow down her desire to insist he return home, a belief in her that if she said so strongly enough she could command this of him. It was perhaps one drink too many for the evening though.

"If he were here it would not feel so much like my heart is breaking that you are leaving," Evelyn spoke of Dracoth's father, or perhaps of his brother, wine staining her lips a burgandy rather than the soft red they'd been. "I thought he was happy." Harin. She was speaking of his brother. Evelyn was still under the impression her youngest was dead and had taken his own life. "I did everything to make him not feel lonely and he was." Yes, she'd had too much, or perhaps the wine that had been given to her was fae and stronger than most, affecting her sensibilities.

[witchofillusion]

There was confusion on Asvari’s face at first. He’d long since given up on having a home of his own. Despite that he now had a regular income, it was hard to reset his mind.

Evelyn’s home was splendid, and he would not mind the opportunity to share her bed more often, or to make use of her kitchen. But was it too close for comfort? Would it not change their dynamic all together? Yet she seemed so vulnerable and he knew saying yes was the sure way to please her. 

He touched the side of her face with his palm, warm from their lovemaking. “You are my friend as well,” he said. “But even if I do stay with you, there will be moments I will be out of your sight.”

[evelynscourge]

Asvari, as she had only mentioned otherwise in passing, likely thought this was her home as he had never seen her actual estate, maybe he presumed when she did not sleep there that she was in the bed of another, or asleep at the club with the need for her having taken up her evening. Neither would have been an entirely inaccurate guess. But this? This was not her home.

His answer, regardless, seemed a 'no.' by her perception of his answer. Evelyn couldn't understand why. He never seemed bothered with her keeping the fridge stocked or remaining in this bed as he desired, what harm could it do to be more reliant on her? But Evelyn didn't gather that he perhaps worried she was getting too attached, because she was, she simply did not see it.

The succubus allowed his hand against her cheek for a moment as she contemplated his reasoning before her jawline moved and her lips sought to place a kiss in his warm palm that still tasted of where his hands had been. "Then I should keep you restrained, for your safety," she teased, but it didn't quite feel as whole in it's seductive as it could have, a quietness to the words and her form did not seem to roll the way it often did when she teased him, instead she simply lingered in place.

With her words against his palm she kissed the base of it once more. "Will you allow me to have a guild member follow you a while? Until you and the rest of that council decide what you intend to do?" she asked Asvari, aware there was a council meeting approaching to discuss the deaths of the other members. Even if Asvari had not told her the guild had heard whisperings.

"It is not my place," she acknowledged, the tip of her nose between two of his fingers and her eyes closing to breath in the scent below her own arousal on them, to the scent of his skin that often smelled, to her, of his magic. "But I am fond of you beyond this," she acknowledged, even if she couldn't admit to herself there was a part of her that craved more. What a comfort it would be to love someone like Asvari, who made the world prettier, who was honest with her, who played by a moral compass that was gray in ways she could admire. Evelyn's lips parted before she swallowed words that felt too intense to speak allowed.

'Losing you might not break me, but I think it might close something off in me.' No, she wouldn't say it.

Instead... "Allow me a few days where I don't need to concern myself with avenging your potential death?" she requested.

[dracothscourge]

Event: Crowning

Open Starter

"Ah, won't you have this, on me!?" Dracoth encouraged, drunk on wine and the wild residents of Destarin who were abuzz around them, dancing and roughhousing, raucous with laughter.

The Incubi offered a goblet, filled to the brimmed with berries and various other fruits. Entangled in his hair and sloping horns was a variety of beads and flowers bestowed upon him by others celebrating. 'Eat up, your newly appointed Duke commands it!"

[evelynscourge]

She suspected the drink a peace offering, holding out her hand for it, though his additional comment, potentially intended as a joke did not leave the boy's mother laughing. "I am not drunk enough yet for such jokes, my love. I am still sober enough that I might consider if you have truly aged out of being sent to your room for being disrespectful to your mother, a room which is fortunately now so conveniently close," she informed her son. Not that Evelyn actually liked that he intended to leave their familial home and take residence in the courts castle.

She would keep all her children near if she could, but his sister was away and his brother was...gone. The home was lonely. Even if Dracoth new it would not be for long, that Harin would soon return, Evelyn did not. Her youngest boy's room still left as it had been when he died. "Are you sure you must leave so immediately?" she asked him, a weakness to her tone that did not hide an ounce of her loneliness.

[witchofillusion]

"You look wonderful this evening," Asvari said, as he moved through the crowd with the workings of a host. He was not, but he'd set up the place, so he figured he had some right to be pretending he was celebrating himself as well. Their accomplishments, no matter how mad and bloody they'd proven to be. He'd keep morale high within the town's borders, his colleagues had their own jobs. "I trust you're enjoying the food?"

[evelynscourge]

Evelyn's fingers moved over his broad shoulders as he offered a polite compliment, one she felt more about acting as host than one designed for her. She might have left him be entirely that evening, let him play with others, if not for the fact she was glad to know he had not made the same mistake as some of the other council members, or that of her son, and had not shifted himself into some pompous title of grandeur that held no value. In truth she worried on Dracoth, but she was not going to argue with her son so publicly.

"I am enjoying seeing you get to finally do what you were elected to do," she noted, and beyond that, "and to see you outside of my apartments." Evelyn did not assume this had been because neither wanted to see the other with clothing on but because both were busy people. It was good things had aligned that evening. "You want to show me your favourite?" she suggested of the food as her fingers tenderly caressed the back of his neck, drifting into his soft hair.

[kaladinsaito]

❝ Overthinkers plan for every contingency, ❞ he promised. ❝ A useful curse. ❞ Agile fingertips drummed across the top of the ledger before leaving it to tend to his crystalline tumbler. He rotated it with a slow whirl of his wrist, its facets catching light and casting them upon the skin of the woman before him, viscous syrup clinging to its inner walls. He wanted to say how much he wished he could set aside his tactics, spread his wings, let chance rule his fate, but he'd been outrunning his own death since he was a child. The ignorant act of balancing his empire on the shoulders of one bookkeeper ( however dutiful and reliable ) would not be what felled him.

She mistook his metaphor, but it was taken as flattery, all the same — so he let it settle around her like falling feathers and found himself mirroring her smile. ❝ Notions, ❞ he echoed in agreement. ❝ Exactly — the suggestion of power is often more effective than a brutal show of strength. I find those with the most influence rarely have to use it. ❞ There was a glint in his eyes as he took a drink from his glass, peering through the veil of cigarette smoke that separated them. They were alike in this way. She ruled her legion with a sensual, whispered promise, and he pulled strings from the shadows. The parallels between them were intoxicating to Kaladin; perhaps she was as close as he'd ever been to another soul, but it was still a room full of mirrors he wasn't sure how to navigate. ❝ But I appreciate your consideration of my people. They are watching, but this room is soundproofed and our positions are strategic. Our lips won't be read. ❞

Leaning back, he crossed one leg over the other, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. He was comfortable. Open. Relaxed, even. ❝ Why don't you enlighten me on the subject of whips and chains, ❞ he circled back with a quirked brow and a grin. ❝ Where does the enjoyment factor in? ❞

She leaned forward, and he followed the line of her throat down to the dip between her collarbones, then the swell of her chest. Kaladin found her irrationally stunning, but he also found the notion of acting on that attraction foolish. For one, he understood that her inherent design was perfected to render her target weak, distracted, easily manipulated. And secondly, their arrangement required a delicate balance of trust and power, and he feared one wrong move on his part would blur that line until it was illegible. He couldn't trust himself to indulge in his desires without getting tangled up in it, lost in it. There was too much at stake to take the leap.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

❝ I'm too pragmatic to propose to a woman without knowing her answer, ❞ he teased back. ❝ Maybe too prideful. ❞

War was sobering talk, but it was a thread in the tapestry of what she said that couldn't be ignored. The tension in his shoulders grew, not only because they were on the topic of dragon skulls, but because the scalewalker knew what was coming and that, at some point, he would have to get involved. He cared more for his family of thieves and assassins than he would ever openly admit; he was their patron, their guardian, their leader, and anything threatening their lives meant he'd have to come out of the shadows. Reveal himself and play a part, if only for their sake. It was the Kagetsuki pact. My blood and protection for your fealty.

❝ Fucking war, ❞ he muttered lowly, his voice a growl that crackled with the blue flame in his chest. He cast his eyes towards the dying fire in the stone hearth.

Listening intently, he didn't interject as she explained her purpose, her dilemma, her requirements. Her final question hung in the air, heavier than the plumes of smoke he exhaled. It was something of a caress, what she'd said — a kindness she didn't know she paid to a dragon that hadn't shadowed a city in a century. ❝ A colossal might meet the size-requirements, but they are slow. Clumsy in articulation. There is likely nothing but a dragon with the agility and power you're after. Armies tremble at the sight, and that's your direction, right? To have your father take form and fight in this dread war? ❞

Kaladin could almost justify this request in his heart and mind if that was her true intent. It would also be a major help to him, if whatever marched on Destarin required that he shift and take to the skies. Another swift-moving and deadly target overhead would surely be an asset to him and to the city.

[evelynscourge]

It was nice when he smiled, she wondered if he smiled less around those he lacked trust with. For Evelyn a smile was a part of the performance, but for Kaladin she imagined a smile would be interpretted differently by others than they would take her own. For Evelyn to smile was to flirt, to flatter, she imagined if he smiled it would seem a glimmer of weakness to many. All Evelyn knew for certain was that she was glad enough trust existed between them he knew she would not take it as weakness.

"Yours more so," she offered regarding the strategic placement of their watchers, because she knew it was true. His people were designed for more than assassinations, they were skilled spies and thieves, they could do things without being seen at all, while her own eventually lacked much care for being noticed.

His brow quirked and his grin showed as his eyes seemed to follow where her movement lead, his poise as gratifying to her notions of their friendship as it was attractive to observe him, his ankle limp on his knee, drink easy in his grasp. Evelyn allowed his observation of her silently, her own gaze lingering in the posture he held, curious if the intention was to show trust or to entice her as well. Regardless she let his eyes wander, not responding to his request immediately for what the benefits of whips and chains might be, though her mind did imagine a rather obvious answer as she breathed so his eyes might observe the swelling of the gesture.

Only when pragmatism hit did Evelyn stand, fingers pinching the fabric of her dress so she could step towards him without the toes of her heels landing on the material. Her own escorted guards at the front of the store shifting, but not closer, rather they seemed to angle themselves away from the pair, not totally unable to observe them but less capable, lowering their gaze and allowing their ears to be their main sense.

Her opposing hand reached for his knee, risen so casually, and the tips of her fingers with their long nails grazed over the fabric of his pants, used it as support to lean towards him. Evelyn did not know if he had enhanced speed or strength, she'd never witnessed it but that meant very little in terms of what abilities he had. He could have been dangerous, but if she had felt he was a danger to her she wouldn't have come to him now, wouldn't have let him know of Harin's conception. As much as his own pose seemed a gesture of trust so too did she perceive her own touch to be one.

"I enjoy when my nerves are raw, bee bitten with the cracking of the whip between my thighs, wrists aching each time I pull on chains to beg," Evelyn expressed, her breasts seeming to quiver, covering themselves in excited goosebumps that ran up her throat. "And in contrast, though it is less productive to my own feeding habits, I can appreciate soft whimpers of want when inflicting my own whip against someone's spine."

Evelyn did not move closer, would not push without indication her affections might be appreciated. Friends were always challenging like this but the fact he had even asked, that he seemed to observe her, seemed to Evelyn as though she might broach the topic without shifting them to enemies. She wouldn't risk that. Beyond his usefulness he someone who understood her in ways few could. It would have been unfortunate for either of them to lose that.

"Doesn't sound quite like pride," she said of his notion he would not ask without assurance of an answer. "Sounds like educated caution." In contemplation her eyes left him, though she knew what she would say she felt a way to phrase it elegantly was required. "I would say yes, as it would be advantageous for us both and marriage had long since lost meaning to me," Evelyn both answered and explained. No one would ever be the husband she had lost. "With that being said I imagine you could do much better. Someone appropriately lacking threat perhaps."

Evelyn observed his tension, but did not take it as insult but wise awareness to the topic at hand. Both would likely be called upon as they had assets that would be useful in protecting the town, and as much as he saw his kin as blood Evelyn saw her own as such. She had sought the family the guild would offer, the protection they all gave one another, she would not sacrifice them for herself, not by way of a war none had chosen.

His muttering in this regard felt as if he had uttered words from her own lips and she let out an exhale that lacked the same sexuality her breathing could insist upon, rather one he had likely seen before. A breath at the fear of others finding out about her son's birth, an exhale of worry whenever territory lines would shift. She might have been a succubus in nature but she was a protector at heart.

Kaladin explained the nature of a colossus, a beast Evelyn had never seen as she had never left Destarin. Slow would not be useful. Agility and speed were requirements. Evelyn's finger tapped on his knee - if he had not brushed them off - in contemplation of his description, eyes over him rather than on him. "Fight," she agreed, finger becoming still. "Or force to flee," she responded of his purpose. "A trump card, something to act on if required as the summoning alone would cause unimaginable destruction." It could kill her, but she did not mention this, destruction to Destarin from the portal and the gigantic demonic being stepping through seemed enough of an explanation as to why she would not act on it immediately. "With whatever is to come you leaving will become harder, the request seemed pertinent to make immediately even if it is never used."

Evelyn inhaled, an opposing action to the worrying exhale but with the same emotion attached. Worry. She did not mind if he saw the way it ate at her beauty, sunk lines around her mouth, made her eyes seem hollow. She had more than a guild she might lose. "Is it impossible?" she asked, since it was rare he ever asked so much, or seemed so resistant to seek her needs.

[emptiness-statue]

[dracothscourge]

WITH great relief, Dracoth accepted Evelyn's promise, his posture relaxing in every way. Some weight had voided his conscience for now, and he could smile and roll his eyes affectionately as his mother pecked at the lint on his linen shirt. She was affectionate in a casual, easy manner which reassured any residual uncertainty he might have had. It made it easier for his ego, that the discourse had been resolved with both parties endeavouring to do better in some regard. Though Dracoth accepted Evelyn's oath, if he had truly considered it, he might have felt obliged to assure her she had little to feel guilty for. The war Evelyn feared, was fast approaching and Dracoth knew he had been more than a little lax in his training.

Dracoth smiled smugly, suspecting that even those who did not wish for a mother such as her, would have benefitted from her rearing. He thought himself to be a well rounded, impressive sort of daemon, and attributed some of this to his parents. His very existence was proof of her superior child rearing capabilities and he was contemplating mentioning this, but his mother swept from him and towards the training room.

Quickly distracted by Evelyn's insistence, Dracoth followed her. He was tall, and lean and walked with a customary languid physicality. Though his movements were lethargic as ever, his face at least retained some enthusiasm, a sliver of a smile forming on his cheeks. Training with his mother had at one time, been an enjoyable if challenging pass time. Where he possessed superior speed and strength, Evelyn could best him through cunning tactics and agility. Though it frustrated him often, he was always thrilled when she displayed a new or surprising manoeuvre. As flighty a student as he was, taking keen interest one day and promptly losing interest when he failed to mimic her movements exactly, or reckon with her evasive motions flawlessly, Dracoth could always marvel at another persons skill. Especially if it was a skill, he himself was not so skilled at. He was the epitome of a jack of all trades, and a master of none, or at least this was how Dracoth saw himself and he behaved accordingly; absconding tasks and avoiding challenges after a certain amount of mistakes.

"Yes please" Dracoth agreed readily and eagerly heading at once towards a display of knives. Blade fighting had been a skill he had once struggled with, and through Evelyn's persistence, he had grown in confidence wielding knives. Selected was a set of small blades that Dracoth favoured for their stealth and the delightfully smooth handles that nestled in the palm of his hands with satisfying balance.

"I'm sure you'll find" Dracoth drawled, keeping his back exposed, hoping she might think he was distracted, and therefore vulnerable, but he was acutely aware of his mothers' movements. "I will need easing back into it". Dracoth anticipated if he could lull his mother into going easy on him, he could surprise her, and the element of surprise was the incubi's preferred strategy. "It has been a while after all..." Dracoth continued, lazily tossing a blade over his shoulder that he knew she would evade with very little effort. Haphazardly tossing weapons at ones mother might seem at the very least rude, but knowing his mothers' expertise and their style of training, Dracoth was confident Evelyn's only criticism would be his supposed lack of effort and concentration.

[evelynscourge]

Evelyn had never quite been able to be the same sort of trainer for her children that her own mothers had been. Maybe if she had not had the guild to offer them protection she could have been as strict as her drow mother, who would occasionally knock Evelyn to the ground when she failed, reminding her that no one would come to save her, that the world was cruel and she would need to save herself and her sisters. It was these lessons that had brought to Evelyn the notion of the guild, that while no one would come to save her out of moral obligation that with the same loyalty she held for her sisters people would. But she could not knock her children down and tell them they were alone, couldn't insist to them if they could not perfect something they were failures.

She had been fortunate with Harin, that he loved to learn, that she hadn't needed to hurt him or make him afraid for him to practice but - so far as Evelyn believed - he had taken his own life. She had sought to protect him from the wrong thing. Her sweet baby, that clung to her in his childhood, that would crawl into bed with her, and even in adulthood had escorted her to markets and danced with her at events in the town, had left her and she had not seen it coming. For weeks she had cried where no one could see but Dracoth. The face she showed the world was a stoic one but alone it broke apart as it had when his father had died. Her heart broke for the second time.

Maybe it was why she was so assured now she needed to fix things with Dracoth. The loss of two loves was like a weight she could barely walk with, and without her eldest the weight of him being gone might actually break her.

Evelyn attempted not to think on it too long, to focus herself on what was at hand, a smile afforded to her son when rather than returning to the dagger with it's jewelled handled he instead sought a set that was more plain and efficient. "You won't be going to battle," she reminded him, but in a way it was also a command. He would not be going into battle. Whatever would come Evelyn would not allow him to sign up for any army. "Daggers will be perfect for what you will need to be able to do. Protect yourself if someone gets close."

She did believe that he would remember more than he thought, though was unaware his words were a manipulation to distract her, stepping with her own blades away from him, a few slender daggers on her thighs for throwing that she often hid beneath garments when she was in a district of the town not controlled by Scourge Guild. Certainly his laissez-faire throwing of his daggers at first were easily avoided, some simply clattering to the floor as she side stepped them, a few embedding themselves in the wall, but he did seem to have his eyes on her, she could tell that at least to some degree he was paying attention. Which was why each time it seemed as though he was not looking she moved the knives away from where he had left them. If someone could not find their weapon they couldn't use it and he would regret a tactic that allowed him to lose sight of what he should have been in control of.

Evelyn herself did not attack, allowing him the confidence of attacking her, she would wait for him to realise he could not find his daggers, then she would strike.

[kallistetheharpy]

In search of the familiar

closted starter @evelynscourge location Laras

Once upon a time, a resident of the island of Anemos Gennisi, Kalliste had visited the main land of Crirtha often. While undertaking supposedly scared tasks, the harpy had enjoyed strolling the streets, amongst the peoples. She thought beautiful, how the mostly painted white winding streets of residential and commercial shops alike, were decorated with vibrant bursts of colours in the form of fruit displays, religious iconography, and various blooming flowers and flora. It was this kind of aesthetic, that initially drew the harpy towards Laras, the Crirthan area of Destarin.

"Oh my..." The harpy had gasped when she first laid her hazel gold eyes on a grand temple. The effigies being portrayed outside of the huge walls felt familiar. It felt as close to home, as she had not experienced in several days. Instantly, the harpy was damp eyed. Having resided in temples all her life, the great stone and marble felt as inviting to her as a warm kitchen fire would feel to another.

Great tawny feathered wings trembled with the effort of not succumbing to grateful tears, as Kalliste began the steep ascent into whichever wondrous temple she had stumbled upon. The climb was not so unreasonable, yet beneath her flowing white houppelande, beads of perspiration soon began to trickle down her person. When Kalliste finally reached the entry, her sun kissed features were flushed, behind a fine, gold veil over her face.

Determined still, Kalliste looked up and around her and seeing so much that was familiar to her, began to smile with delight. Taking care not to appear irreverent, Kalliste bowed her head and began to meekly explore the temple. Gloriously feathered wings, shrunk in size when manoeuvring around pillars of people, and remerged where space permitted them. Kalliste was petite in height and stature, yet her wings could fill up a room, had the harpy not been so conscious of her surroundings.

A statue surrounded by lit candles and a small crowd caught Kalliste's attention, and she drew alongside a stranger so she could admire it. Though she was careful with her limbs and wings, she underestimated the length of her flared sleeves, which brushed against the hem of a woman's outfit. Kalliste grimaced and whispered an apology for disturbing the stranger, pressing her hands to her heart.

"Forgive me" Kalliste's voice was soft, and her wide eyes were sincere. "I am terribly sorry"

[evelynscourge]

Evelyn did not feel quite so at home in the temples within Laras but she found herself in them often. No part of her worshipped, but her mother had never been able to give up her affinity for them, even when she new many of the people who had worshipped in them saw her as a monster. It was her choice to envision that not all the gods would see her as such and had always taken Evelyn to observe the various statues, told her of the dieties she knew, of Crirthan legend. That was why she came. To feel close to her mother who had long since passed.

Certainly Evelyn did not look half so blessed as the woman who entered. Ink like fabric clung to her shape, appearing to drip down her pallid form, caressing every muscle, and demonic red horns curled from her temples, sharp with thorns, even her shape, the slenderness from her waist to her emboldened chest implied a denial of the modesty that typically could be associated with those worshipped. She was, perhaps, the contrast of the winged woman who she could hear enter, though had yet to shift her gaze to, but other visitors had. Some seeming to bow ever so slightly, while others looked away, as though gazing at her was improper - maybe they knew what she was, maybe they didn't and simply saw someone so angelic in nature they decided what was right on instinct.

It was only when Evelyn heard shuffling that her eyes shifted from the statue of a woman holding a small falcon on her wrist towards the harpy. The candles that surrounded the stone statue illuminated the softness of her features but also the discomfort she seemed to be in, sweet thing that she was trying to keep her wings from getting in anyone's way. Evelyn's horns did not loan themself to confined spaces but it was not her responsibility to worry on others, not by simply wandering anyway.

Evelyn barely noticed the feeling of fabric on her bare arm, but did notice when the harpy seemed sincerely sorry for an act most would not have even notice they had done let alone thought to apologise for. It brought a wicked sort of amusement to Evelyn. Perhaps this was what young girls who grew up in Crirtha were like, making Evelyn glad she had not.

"My sons have broken a few of these statues, I would not worry on accidentally brushing against people, darling," Evelyn offered in response, a few people frowning and stepping away from Evelyn and the statue she stood before. Clearly the comment had irritated. "Certainly not those of my kind, typically we'd appreciate you brush a little closer." If her eyes could have flushed the same red as the flames in front of them they would have, instead the icy blue hue of them only reflected the flames as she looked to the woman through dark lashes, implication heavy in her words.

She would soften herself once she new the other person lacked interest but it would have simply been a shame not to try. Those of such doe like eyes were especially hard to resist, as was the notion of taking a winged creature to bed, some irony perhaps. But Evelyn was more respectful than those around might have believed.

[dracothscourge]

BENEATH his mothers' seemingly omniscient gaze, Dracoth began to soften. Stiffness in his narrow shoulders lessened so, and his dark eyes met hers without so much as a flinch. There had been a time when Dracoth would have said he felt most at ease with his parents. For all their complications, and unconventional family dynamics, Dracoth had been raised with unending love and acceptance, and had been supported in his training and in his education. He had never truly wanted for anything until the day his father died. It had been the first time Dracoth had felt the world had taken something from him and it seemed an overtly cruel lesson to learn. It had crippled him for so long.

When Evelyn mentioned his murdered grandparents, the incubi did not blink. It was not that he was unfeeling, of course he felt an invisible tether to the parents that had raised his own father, but he had always known the story of their demise, and the reasons for it. It had been explained to him on numerous occasions, most of which Dracoth had forgotten the specifics of, and so the tale had formed in his head as an inevitable instance that occurred for the greater good for their family. Since his fathers' death, Dracoth had began to attribute the incident to his mothers' perceived list of failings, but in truth Dracoth could not blame either parent for the murder. It had been a difficult sacrifice, but necessary for their futures, for the sake of security and prosperity. This was how Dracoth understood that particular chapter in their family history.

Evelyn's encouraging assessments were reassuring and her reach for comfort was reciprocated. Dracoth looped his long arms around his mothers' small frame, resting his chin against her soft dark hair, his cheek meeting a tall horn. It had been some time since the two had enjoyed such physical contact, and embracing with care for their horns roused childhood memories of similar embraces with Evelyn. Dracoth wondered when he had stopped showing affection, physical or otherwise, with his mother or truly anyone in the family. Suppose his father had been the person to encourage such displays of intimacy in Dracoth, then it is reasonable to conclude that without him, Dracoth had let it fall to the way side. He sighed heavily, and determined then and there to make some changes. As old as he was, and as close to perfect he considered himself to be, there was clearly still room for some self improvement. The concept was thrilling.

When he withdrew from their embrace, Dracoth's face was not guarded, but sincere and serious.

"Do not blame yourself, as you say I have been drawing away from you. I concede it is the exact opposite of how my father raised me, how you both raised me, and I aim to right that wrong. If there is one lesson this loss has taught me, our time together is not infinite, I do not wish to waste it." As he spoke, he became more impassioned, his features taking on a sterner expression. He thought of the last few times he and his father had been in one another's company, Dracoth had been distracted, and disinterested in his fathers' affairs. He had taken for granted what he would now prize above all else. He understood with grim assertion that he had made mistakes he simply could not make again. Working through his demons with his mother would be no overnight remedy, but it was something Dracoth determined to resolve.

"We are what remains of him, and I am proud to share that with you" He swore it with acclaim, before a pleased smile began to form on his lips. Dracoth was not above taking pleasure in hearing expressions of devotion, especially from his mother, whom he had neglected for some time. Though their lives were long, the rather basic desire for parents praise seemed still deeply ingrained in the Incubi, and his eyes shone with the affection.

"For what it's worth mother, while I had no choice in the matter, I consider everyone whose mother is not you to be diabolically unfortunate!" Spoken with both his customary flare, and sincerity, this was of course true for the man who had wanted for nothing, not love or finery, but it ran deeper than that. He was honoured to be the son of the leader of the Guild, and a man brave enough commit parricide for them. His parents were brave. The love, the loyalty, the intensity that drove them all were qualities Dracoth was proud of. So much of his confidence, and his identity was deeply interlaced with his ancestry, his pedigree so to speak and his parents origin stories.

[evelynscourge]

He was so tall now, at least compared to her, but she still remembered over a century before when he would hug her and his cheek would rest against her stomach, or when he was even smaller and she would have to dodge his hands reaching for her horns so she did not accidentally hurt his tiny fingers. The sweetest boy, even if she was somewhat ignorant to how spoiled he was, running around in the same types of jewels he still wore now. He was still so sweet, Evelyn's cheek as much to his chest as her horns would allow.

With the withdrawal Evelyn kept her hands on her son, picking various flecks of lint off his garment. "And I shall try to be better at showing you," she assured him in turn. Though Evelyn was not quite sure how. It had been easiest with her youngest, he had been with her always, no thought he had seemed to go unshared with her, but at least Dracoth was not half so hard as his sister whom she had not raised at all. "It is not fair of me to expect nothing of you until it suits me," she noted of her own behaviour. She had not asked much of Dracoth since before his father had passed and now to demand he train again, because she was afraid of the war that might come, was not fair to him.

"I suspect many might disagree but at least a small few could share the sentiment," Evelyn smiled, dusting off his shoulder. Evelyn wasn't sure she was half the mother her own had been, so reliant on her husband to be that for their son but she did love all her children, which was more than could be said for many mothers.

Evelyn stepped back once more, towards the training room. "You do need to train," she insisted, regardless of any changes she intended to make ultimately Evelyn knew that were things to go horribly he would need to defend himself and not all adversaries would lack the speed and strength she did in comparison to him, many would be faster and stronger, would have magicks he did not. Evelyn knew he was smarter though, smarter than many believed, smart like she could be, where it hid below the surface. The jewels he wore may have been a joy, the same way her gowns were, but they were also an illusion of sorts. An implication of weakness and restraint that could leave people under estimating them.

"A dagger your preference?" she asked, since it had been what he'd thrown, what she always kept hidden somewhere on her person as well.

[evelynscourge]

Whispered Tales #1 || Origins of Evelyn

It is told that before Evelyn's rise to guild leader of Scourge, a young Evelyn took out the heirs of multiple guilds, leaving their younger siblings to inherit their guilds and to be cautious of the young woman known, prior to her marriage, as Evelyn Epius. Some say she killed them as a warning of her rising, and some say she bedded their brothers and whispered in their ears to take what they could have - as she did her future husband - but only a few whisper the truths, of a generation of men made infertile and denied their inheritance...

"You fucking cunt," came the words of the scorned guild heir as he stormed towards the small cottage home on the edges of the Crirthan district. Evelyn was kneeling in the garden, a red imp that appeared as a snake wrapping his way around her wrist, others like him slithering through the aconites she had been tending to.

There was only a worn wooden fence between herself and the male, shielding her from none of his rage as she slowly began to stand, dark but cheap cotton dress dragging down to her feet, strings wrapped around her waist to fit the figure she was developing along with the rest of her succubus abilities. "Oh?" she asked back, feigning innocence as the imp slithered up her arm. She was ultimately unamused by his presence but not shocked by it. He deserved what she had done to him.

The man, in his expensive fabrics, his mousey brown hair slicked back, not a callous to a single one of his fingers, not a bruise on any knuckle, was obviously enraged but she had been too. When curled up in his bed he had allowed his mother to call her whore, call him an embarrassment for sleeping with a peasant girl, accuse Evelyn of attempting to trick her son, and worse still, when she attempted to insist upon devotion and family, how much both meant to her, his mother had continued to berate him for his stupidity...and he had taken it. Weeks together had meant nothing the moment disapproval had come, he sunk into himself, a coward that insisted she leave, prior words of love and affection washed away in weakness.

"Your little creatures -," he began to yell his accusation only to quiet himself so people did not overhear him. "Poisoned my cock. It's - " He looked away, lips pursed and jaw tight as he evidently clenched his teeth. He'd do that when he came too, like he had been trying to hold off and failed. It had been endearing at the time. In reflection it felt as weak willed as the rest of him was.

"Rotting?" she asked, amused smile to her face as she moved closer to him, the horns she'd had since birth having slowly begun to grow thorns like a rose, sharp as the blade by her thigh, hidden beneath her dress, accessed by a slit if she so needed it.

Her accurate assumption of his next word caused him to scowl at her. "You're going to fix it, bitch."

Evelyn did not move, the wooden fence still between them. "I won't," she denied him, the snake wrapping around her throat and moving through her hair, dark as soot. "You could have stood up for me, you could have shown some fucking loyalty, but you're a coward." Evelyn's own lips shifted to a sneer as the hurt she had experienced begging him - covered only in a sheet - to tell his mother they were in love and that she would be a good wife, while he wouldn't even look at her, returned to her mind. "I saved your guild the embarrassment of your leadership. No cock, no heir, no inheritance. Good as a peasant to mummy dearest now I am sure."

He rose his hand to slap her, reaching across the fence, when a hiss came, not from Evelyn's hair but from the steps of her home. Evelyn's mother had stepped out of the cottage. Soft green snakes slithered through her own tender brown locks, warm freckles sat on tanned cheeks, and cotton draped in the traditional Crirthan way circled her more petite form. Despite colouring and style she had the same bone structure as her daughter, the high cheeks and lips that seemed to perpetually have an element of pout to them. "Go home, Mr Westernra, full moon is tonight," she warned, the wolves would be out soon enough, and the other were beasts. The young man looked to the woman that could turn him to stone if she so desired, a fate one might contemplate if one's manhood was as Evelyn knew his was now, and gave a nod before turning on his heels and stalking back towards Rochielles and his grand estate.

Weak.

With only a moment of silence eventually the young woman of nine and ten turned back towards her mother, the imp that had crawled into her hair slithering away, as afraid as the young man had been. "Reckless girl," her mother accused, turning back inside and leaving the door open for Evelyn who followed her gorgon parent into their home, sisters already tucked away in their beds while her witch mother cooked and her drow mother could be heard in another room putting the window protections up.

"How did you summon them this time?" her mother asked as she began to coat blades laid out on a small table in the wolfsbane that they grew outside. She was referring to the demonic imps that had poisoned the guild heir's manhood. The third to have had this occur. All were too ashamed to tell and so it remained a secret, though rumours spread as to why so many lost their future as guild leaders to younger siblings after weeks around town with the young succubus.

Evelyn lifted up a cloth, coating it in the flower oils her mother had in a glass vial, before beginning to assist the beautiful woman's efforts to prepare the blades for the evening. "I found a tree of jaculi on the outskirts of the woods, I bleached three skeletons, used the petals of white orchids and feathers of some doves before burning sardius stones," she explained to her mother of the ingredients she had needed to summon the imps from her father's realm to do what she required. White, a colour of cowardice, was required in such a targeted spell, as were the stones of vengeance.

"You need to leave these boys alone," Evelyn's mother insisted as she stroked the blade, eyes on it instead of her daughter. "One will be one too many and all will come for your head, daughter."

"None have more bravery than pride," she disagreed of the potential for repercussions. "And the one that does won't need to worry."

[dailyflicks]

Megan Fox as Lily Luster in Passion Play (2010)

[kaladinsaito]

❝ A saint? ❞ he mused, eyes trained on the burning embers of his sizzling cigarette. ❝ Only the dead can be named saint, and I assure you, she requires all the vitality life grants her to manage our inventory. ❞ He leaned back, playfulness dancing at the edges of his smile, the corners of his eyes. ❝ Should she died in the pursuit of this shop's organization, I'll be sure she's awarded the honorific. ❞ Everyone that served him would qualify, because the standard of character he demanded of those in his circle was not easy to master and sustain. His trust was hard-won, but rewarding if granted. It was part of being Kagetsuki: to make keeping the secret worth it, for better or ill.

Having poured her drink, he relaxed into his chair, studying the artful line of her. ❝ I suppose your painstaking task is convincing everyone around you that you don't harbor the strength to level them with the wave of your hand. ❞ With his head angled down, he looked at her from beneath the ridge of his brow — always testing boundaries but never with any intention to cross. ❝ We are alone, and you needn't convince me of anything, you know. ❞ As a creature condemned to limited confines of his human form, he could understand the necessity of appearances, and the burden of maintaining them. There was a flash of compassion in him, but it resolved as recognition. Acknowledgement of her prowess in the art of deception. Appearing breakable was a deft weapon the strongest of creatures employed to manipulate control, and she balanced her image with exceptional ease. Whatever the case, he knew she was anything but breakable.

❝ Forgive the perfunctory disclaimers. Habit. ❞ Kaladin had worked alongside her for long enough to know she understood his methods and their motives, but that wisp of a line that existed between them required bulwark to make their arrangement a reliable one. Relying on another's word in Destarin would land a fool dead or unforgivably fucked over, but Evelyn's proximity to his shadow-world was time-tested and fortified. The level of trust they had established thrived because of the constant scrutiny it underwent. Like a lone garrison wall that was still patrolled if only for ritual's sake.

His eyebrow raised when she stated her purpose, and the prickle of curiosity walked up the notches in his spine. ❝ Needing some fatherly advice? ❞ he asked as he lifted his whiskey to his lips. ❝ Someone to give you away at the alter? ❞ Dark irises trained on her belied his feigned indifference to her endeavors. Was she summoning him from the other side of the world or from another realm, entirely? What sort of creature was he to have a daughter so powerfully manifested in this plane? The questions he wanted to ask died on his tongue as soon as she named the object she sought.

It felt like knives digging into him, but he maintained all the composure of a man well-versed in never expressing the whole truth of himself, of the dark corridors of his mind. Of all the fucking things she could ask for, a dragon's skull felt like a personal attack. Like being flayed and exposed in Destarin's main square. A sunken part of him demanded he slam his fist down and swear off their sodden truce with a vengeance, but that part was so sunken, he had silenced it to whispers when it had once fueled the destruction of a city a century ago. It was well-tamed. Groomed into obedience. It only shifted beneath the weight of a perfectly forged vizard.

❝ Any particular reason you're after a dragon's skull and not a wyvern's? ❞ Kaladin had dragon bones, scales, blood aplenty ( but he rarely doled them out to anyone, preferring to hoard them in his private stores ), but an intact skull was a rare prize from such a large and hunted apex predator. ❝ I'm not saying I can't do it — ❞ even if it did feel like betraying himself & his entire species to give up another dragon for arcane use; to say as much would be too grand an admission. ❝ — but limiting the scope of the search to a dragon skull means more time. If this is a matter of any urgency, I would suggest alternatives. For instance, if we first happen on an ... unfortunate seraphim or a... waning colossal in our search. ❞

[evelynscourge]

"Not all the dead stay dead," she reasoned with a small playful smile on her lips, like other thoughts lingered in her mind even if they did not. "I am glad she would be gifted with something in the event of any genuine sort of passing. Hopefully she has taught someone else her ways so you might not have too much of a lapse in organisation however."

Evelyn did not have the strength to level them with a wave of her hand, at least not literally. Unlike many within the town Evelyn lacked excessive strength or speed, she lacked the sort of magic that could waft through the air at will, or do anything of immediacy. Evelyn's true power was in the trust her guild gave her, in loyalty and solidarity, as well as in the rumours of her willingness to see vengeance. If she were to level her enemies it would only be at the aid of her allies, and at the failure of her enemies to remain well mannered. She wondered if Kaladin believed she could do more, if he thought she might summon flights of winged imps at will to devour her enemies and the rituals she performed at the club were simply that - a performance - or perhaps the rumours of her ability to make one infertile with a glance had found their way to him.

"I was talking about more pleasurable sorts of pain, the kind with whips and chains, but if you want to compliment me then I'll happily sit here and listen to notions of my power," she smiled. Her appearance was less to hide any true strength she could wield on her own, as it was to offer an assurance that she lacked ill intentions, that she did not come ready for things to go poorly. "Besides, you are not the only person that is observing me, why worry those watching you?" she assured him of the mutual trust there.

Had they ever truly been alone? Could they ever be? Not simply with one another but...ever?

His questions about the purpose of her father were valid. Maybe Evelyn couldn't level a populace with a wave of her hand but a demon from another plane of existence could and in truth that was the purpose. Leaning slightly forward in her seat, allowing the roundness of her cleavage to be exaggerated and purposefully gifted to his gaze Evelyn smiled, "only if you're proposing." She was simply playing, lightening the curated appearance she'd walked in with, not taunting. If he had wanted her, for pleasure or for the gain of his guild she imagined he would have acted sooner. Either he lacked interest or self preservation won out over desire. Whatever the case it was still Evelyn's way of reminding him she could relax around him, and he her. That she did trust him.

"Whatever is coming, I do not intend to play with only half a hand," she reasoned of her choice to have the ability summon her father. "Petty enemies within Destarin won't matter when a Crirthan army comes to our door and I think we both know war is simply a whisper away."

Despite the knives her words had made Evelyn noticed no shift in the man old enough to hide his emotions. He seemed as intent on the purpose of her request, and how to best actually acquire what she might need for her ends, as he always was. Wise and attentive. She did not question his questions.

"Wyvern's are smaller, if I wish to summon my father from his plane in his true size then I need something of equal state," she answered, which only spoke to the true nature of her father's form. He was by no means the size of man, even if he had appeared as such when he had made Evelyn and her sisters on this plane - three of likely many children that existed across different realities. "A seraphim for the purpose of his potential aid in battle would be useless for this purpose but...a colossal...potentially. Depending on how powerful it is. Whatever I summon him with would need to be of equal size and strength for him to come as such, anything else will weaken him. It is why I might only converse with him when smaller sacrifices are made," she explained. It was why she only rarely saw him, why she spent so much money hunting down strange objects from Kaladin or the butchers or her guild, objects that in the end only allowed for her to speak with him for a few hours, or sometimes even a few minutes.

It would have made things easier for Kaladin surely to find one of the other objects he mentioned but... "What compares to the might and size of a dragon?"

[dracothscourge]

FAIR. The word sounds so small, so childish and yet it was a poignant. It had not been fair, Dracoth felt it to his core. It had been unfair to lose his main caregiver, it had been unfair to lose him decades ahead of time. Hearing it said outload, shone light on their shared experience of this unjust tragedy. Evelyn to lose her life partner, her husband, the father of her son. The one person she held in her heart in a vice grip, even now. Dracoth began to see that just as he clung to his father through grief, she also kept his memory alive every day. In the portraits of him, all over the home, even one to this day hung above her bed.

Perhaps it was childish to still be held by such notions as fair and unfair, when they lived in an unjust world on the brink of war. It was irrational and implausible. Dracoth was over a hundred years old, and he was painfully aware of how terribly childlike the grief for his father made him feel and behave. And so, hearing his mothers generosity of heart, her ready acceptance of his feelings however cruel, softened his resolve toward her. If she could find it in her to forgive him all of the irrational feelings that came with grief, he could find it in himself to work on the misplaced resentment he felt towards Evelyn.

Looking down at the woman who had given him life, and whom life had also robbed of love and laughter, Dracoth's eyes burned. As her soft hand touched his cheek, there was a visual relaxed droop in his body. The redness in his neck and chest dissipated slowly as she spoke, and his eyes closed against the well of tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. When given words, his pain sounded less irrational, alas he could hear how wrong it was. For anyone, especially him to blame her. If his father could see them now, Dracoth knew the man could have wept.

It felt bizarre to hear his mother vocalise so much of what he had not said, and he supposed it spoke to how well she knew him. Or perhaps simply just how perceptive she was. To be seen, and to be loved is a gift that every child deserves, and Dracoth knew himself to be fortunate, al least in this moment. Dracoth allowed his mothers' thumb to caress the high of his cheek before he reached for it, so he might clasp it so his chest, careful not to press it into the cold, hard jewels he wore around his throat.

"I am- I was angry with you" Dracoth admitted slowly "Wrongly so!" he added with determination, shaking his head as he spoke through a wave of emotions slowly. "I think that perhaps my anger... perhaps it is possible that I am holding onto it, for the sake of my father... whose heart would surely break if he could see me now..." Guilt was an uncomfortable emotion that Dracoth was used to avoiding with sinuous pliability, and so while instinct fought it, some shame seeped into his face as he confessed to his mother with intense reverence. "I owe you my deepest apologies, I detest you seeing me in this way. I..." he trailed off. He did not know where to begin. "This is why I have been avoiding you, I know you are the least deserving of my resentment, alas I am not myself" that is to say, the incubi did not feel in control of himself.

[evelynscourge]

Evelyn did not think it truly possible his father could have held a thought against him. Disappointment, perhaps, in how he acted them out but for feeling them? No, she did not imagine the man she had loved judging his son for feeling complexly. His child had been his joy and to think Dracoth had more to him than a simplicity would have been encouraged she imagine.

The woman allowed her son to draw her hand to his chest, fingers against the fabric of his attire, expensive and soft as his grasp engulfed her own slender and pallid palm. The movement withdrew the mask her hand had made of his face, revealing the familiar cheekbones of her husband and the occasional hollowness to his cheeks. His colouring had always been softer than Dracoth's, a lighter brown to his hair, more sun to his skin, but the make of him was there in Dracoth's bones.

Dracoth would not concede, it seemed, that his feelings were guiltless, Evelyn's nails pressing to his chest as digits attempted to retract in objection to his notion of wrongness, and the notion his father's heart would break seeing him, even if she had asserted similarly before in her own irritation of his performative narcissism. "I don't think I can even fathom how much he loved you, Dracoth. I am sure he would feel honoured you miss him so much. He never missed his own."

Evelyn's fingers grasped her songs that held her own, unsure how much Dracoth had ever questioned what his father had done to his own parents to get Evelyn her title as guild leader. It had been near two centuries, hard to specifically recall each time they had been asked about, especially to know how much his father had told him directly before he'd died. He had never felt loved by them though, a child born to replace another, a spare heir, ignored in favour of the same sorts of wealth represented by the gems worn now around her sons neck. Dracoth's casual affinity for them had always amused Evelyn, especially when he was little, a child playing dress up with items that had held more value than love to the original owners. It felt like a sort of justice to take away their value, to make them but mere toys.

"All he wanted was for you to be loved as he wasn't, and for you to miss him so would surely insist he had done this. It is all I want for you too, my love," she assured her son, the hand he held finally slipping away so she could wrap her arms around his neck and draw him near. Unsure when the last time was they had held one another. "I know I am not as deft at showing it as he was but you could never break my heart with your feelings, be angry with me, just do not detach from me. We are what remains of him."

Each loved Dracoth's siblings but within the mess of a family tree they were all bonded through different means. Dracoth and his mother were all that remained of his father's legacy and love. They had a bond of grief, and a bond of purpose.

"And I chose you too," Evelyn promised him, not wishing for her son to feel all they had was the connection to his father. "I loved you before anyone else could. I would not give up that love because of a few angry thoughts."

His father's heir. Her chosen child.

[madkingmerry]

The compliment, though moderate, is received graciously for Merry receives everything with absolute grace no matter what it is be it a compliment or a beating. The tiefling knows no other way. A tantalizing hum tickles the base of his throat at her taunting, teasing and light, deliciously so in a way she knows so well how to do.

He flaps a hand at her, “Oh, you sweet vicious thing, how you tease me so. You know it makes me wild for you.” Merrymock is not a demon of the flesh by nature such as herself but he is a demon of the flesh by habit. In a way, this makes him far worse for it as he does not have the benefit of excusing himself for an unavoidable nature and he does not hinder himself in any way. Allowing his whims and fancies to carry him through like a luscious alluring cloud.

The tiefling leans across the bartop, the amber tone of his flame filled eyes twinkle at her like dying starlight and his voice travels as the gentle caress of a down feather or the smart of a leather lash, “You could have me upside down and sideways, darling. Perhaps you should punish me, for how could I ever steal the grandeur of your applause from you.”

He downs his drink in one. Merry drinks liquor like a drowning man. His fingertips leave grease stains against the glass and then he pours another glass.

[evelynscourge]

The succubus smiled, sheen to her lips reflecting the light that remained while her eyes in their cool tone were warmed by the yellow of Merrymock's, giving them a slight green tinge. "I need to keep up some appearance, even around one of my stars," she stated, drawing the liquor he had poured to her lips and taking a slow draw, allowing the warm taste to wash over her tongue and burn down her throat.

Evelyn did not wish to confess to Merry that, on occasion, his own arousal made her feel sort of ill. It was not as though it was absent, the way a lack of consent seemed to rip all energies from the air, but rather like his want was not fit for her. Maybe it was her, like a warning sign in her body that what he would desire from her she would not be capable of giving, or maybe it was something worse within him, but in truth Evelyn suspected it was something else. Something worse. Hate. Not at her, the arousal she felt was always someone's own. The sense of it rather...inward. People could dislike themselves, in moments, but this felt like it stuck to all of him always, clung to any other emotion he might be capable of. However, as it was not a common sort of taste, and this was merely her assessment based on her interactions with him, and her words with her father and sisters, she was not sure how to mention it to the man who was already lost in his mind.

"I suspect you would prefer inside out," Evelyn instead responded to his offer. "And there are more playful individuals out there who might concede to this."

Her son.

Evelyn's son had his own sort of inward dislike that came out in ways she was never quite capable of dealing with. Merry was, in her interactions with him, very well intented, even if misguided, and so her hope was to not mention that she felt her son might be capable of handling whatever clung to his wants until it seemed Dracoth was in the mood not to lean too much into the strange persona he had taken on as of late. She wanted Merry to see the sweet but indulgent side of him, not the narcissistic and ambivalent show he had taken up.

Unlike Merry her drink was only half empty. "I have someone in mind for you," she assured him of her own disinterest, not wishing to grow whatever was within him. "Almost as pretty as myself, certainly more handsome, far more likely to turn you inside out, and less expectant of mundane sense."

[evelynscourge]

Do you want to have more children?

"Always. I love being pregnant, and I love all my children. I take each time I am able to conceive as a sign they are meant to be."