the voice of the drago || open starter
October 29, 299 AR Noctifera
Elinor knew that she would be postponing her training on the morrow. It was already near dawn and she had not been to bed yet. Swept up in the intrigue and festivities, as well as the intriguing Noctifera, Elinor had been spending time both with the guests and alone, wandering the palace. She was not prying, but was instead meandering along, the alcohol in her blood a companion that kept her warm and loose. She was curious about this kingdom, arguably Marya’s greatest enemy and rival.
So far, they had been gracious hosts. Elinor could give the Voice credit for that at least. It had been wrong, completely wrong. The Kingdoms were more at peace than they had ever been, and a truer peace than simple amicability. Than the false smiles that hid poisoned thoughts and looks that could kill. Elinor would not go so far as to thank the Voice that had cast the shadow over King William and Queen Daphne’s wedding, but the cordiality between kingdoms was at least a silver lining.
The lightness starting to leave Lady Drago’s step was the first indication that something might be wrong. She put it down to tiredness, exhaustion finally overcoming the alcohol she had imbibed. She was not drunk by any means, but had maintained a pleasant warm, fizzy, bubbly feeling throughout the night. It had allowed her to stay in company without feeling awkward or withdrawing. She had to represent her kingdom after all, and show Marya’s good side to Noctifera. She never forgot her responsibility to her kingdom and her people.
That responsibility, and her ties to both the land and the people were what made Elinor cry out, suddenly. A sharp, tormented cry that caught even her by surprise as it tore from her throat and past her lips. She heard variations of the same cry, but as if from a distance as her ears buzzed. One hand had a death grip on her near empty goblet as Elinor tried to control herself, the other pressed against the stone of the hallway she found herself in. She managed to keep her balance, barely, and tried to stop the scream that had escaped her without permission or even forethought.
It was as if something had burst through her body, something dark and evil. It burned and tore through her, so that Elinor was half expecting to look down and see a hole in her stomach or chest. Echoes of her own scream rang in her ears, different pitches and voices, coming from different throats. And they all cut off at the same time, leaving a silence that rang equally as loud in Elinor’s ears.
She gasped for breath, fury and fear running through her in equal measures. Her body shook. When she looked up, it was to meet the eyes of another. If Elinor were prone to blushing, she would have done so, but as it was, she was instead deathly pale.
“Forgive me,” she said, her low voice lower than normal, and with an unusual hoarse aspect. “I don’t know what came over me.” A disruption of some sort, a terrible something that had to do with the ties she had to her land, to Marya, and her people there.
