The Legacy of Whiteblade (Reprise) / Part Deux of Trois
This is part two of a three part story collaborated between myself, Laeima Whiteblade, and Joseff Aurumus. The first part was written by Aurumus which you can find here if you missed it. This second part was written by moi (Kirova). And the third part is upcoming to be written by Laeima! The story as a whole will kick off an entirely new plot, with lots of conflict and feels, so you won't wanna miss it!
The icy wind howled around her, though less-so of its own accord and more-so due to the cries of pain and screams for help that carried through the air like a thick and foul fog. Kirova, clad in her battle gear, trudged forth through the inches of snow in her mail plated boots and her shield in front of her chest into the vast icy valley turned battlefield. Her comrades were already battling the undead, but left and right they were picked off. She advanced on a corpse ahead, slicing it down with a single strike through the neck.
Nothing advanced on her, so she paused. Her eyes ticked left: two undead scourge ripped a soldier's body apart, and another beyond him had been trampled. Her eyes ticked right, and her comrades were suffering more of the same; losing their limbs and their lives. Kirova's sword arm raised to the sky as she yelled an order, but her voice was lost in the wind. She looked about frantically, and found she wasn't heard. Another scream, her throat nearly tearing itself with the rumbling bellow she intended; yet still no sound. One by one her men fell in no time at all, and she was surrounded by the corpses of her brothers soon to rise anew, as well as the ones already standing for battle and looking for blood.
Yet the scourge didn't advance. They merely closed in around her in a circle, encasing her in as if to taunt her of her defeat. Kirova snarled and bashed her shield against the tight line they made, and though she sent two stumbling back, they only reformed a moment later. She circled about, greeting rotting face after face with a snarl until finally she turned to a new one. A face that was very much alive and very familiar. The beautiful yet haunting visage of Laeima stood before her, smirking down upon her sister knowingly. Laeima's expression was collected, calm, and divine, but in such a place those violet eyes were anything but inviting. Her hand slowly oustretched toward Kirova, and her lips parted as if within her next words she would share all of the world's truths. When suddenly --
"Hey!" Came a disgruntled yell with an accompanied shove upon her shoulder. The vision Kirova had been so entranced by was now the black of her eye lids, and she groaned as she shifted from her incredibly uncomfortable cot. The man's voice from before spoke again, though this time Kirova was conscious enough to realize it was Aurumus. "M'Lady, sorry to wake you, but the crew needs our help again."
A flutter of her lashes opened her eyes in a squint, and she peered up at the man with distaste. And whether that may have been because of the unpleasant dream she had just experienced or because it was him of all people waking her up was up for debate. Aurumus so far had done little for Kirova but irritate her, but perhaps it was merely because he, a man she had never met, was so snugly embedded in this situation that effected her entire life so strongly.
"Fine," Kirova grunted in response, and finally she stirred from the rock-hard cot to lift herself up. Already she could feel the lull and pull of the waves they rode on, and with one hand bracing herself against the matress, the other reached beneath the pillow for the small dagger she kept there. She hated sailing, and she didn't trust a single person on this ship. Aurumus took a step away from her, but he still loomed over her as if he wasn't so sure about her condition. "Hey," Kirova snapped as she pointed the dagger's tip in his direction, which tilted way up because of his size. Her neck nearly craned to view the towering man above her bed. "What'd I tell you about calling me Lady?"
"You requested that I not call you Lady," he responded simply. Kirova could have sworn she saw the smuggest of smirks upon his lips. He added quickly and much quieter than previously, "...M'lady."
Kirova's eyes bore into his relentlessly, as if to communicate without words 'are you serious right now?'. Her lips parted to retort, but her breath caught and she instead shook her head in disbelief. "Okay. I'm done. Go ahead. I'll be out in a moment."
"Alright, but I'd hurry!" Aurumus turned from her bed and made his way for the door, and somewhere at the back of her mind Kirova wondered how he was even able to fit through it. "I'd leave your armor behind this time in case something happens like last time. There's a reason sailors don't weigh themselves down like that. Don't worry! If the men try anything with you or Lady Laeima, I'll be there to stop it! Or, well, I'll try. They do out number us fairly decently. But rest assured, no harm will-"
"Just go," Kirova nearly growled in interruption, and with an eep Aurumus zipped his lips and stepped through the door with a quietly muttered 'going!'.
With her free hand Kirova rubbed roughly at her eyes, and the other slipped her dagger between her skin and her belt line. Her gaze fell upon the mail armor that was piled on the floor next to her in the small closet of a room. She prefered the solitude to the shared quarters below, but the limited space wasn't doing her armor any good there. A sigh escaped her lips as she lifted herself from the cot, and by Aurumus' suggestion she left her mail behind as she left her room to enter the main deck.
As she stepped out, she was immediately met by a gust of wind and the sight of sailors frantically moving about to keep them afloat. She didn't know the first thing about ships, but she did know how to take orders. Which is what she had been doing the entirety of the trip; taking orders from the captain to help the transport run smoothly. Hardly any words at all had been said to Laeima, and perhaps that was the goal: keep herself so busy she wouldn't have to confront her little sister. They had been at sea for a few days now, and the tactic worked thus far, but now they were a few hours at most until they would reach their destination: Gadgetzan.
Kirova took a few more steps out onto the deck, and around the corner a still figure caught her eye. Laeima stood silently, calm and collected and dressed to kill down to the very last expensive thread that danced in the wind. Her ebon hair had been pulled back in a pony-tail, but the unforgiving wind bid the tail behind her head to wave wildly. She seemed peaceful in a way that Kirova couldn't explain. The woman Kirova looked upon now was... well, exactly that: a woman. This wasn't the spoiled six year old child she had envied so long ago. She stood with poise, authority, and experience. She was her father's daughter, Kirova decided. Laeima's cold gaze shifted onto her newly arrived sister, but neither of them said anything. Kirova drew a breath to prepare a greeting, but it was cut short by a call from one of the sailors.
"Oi, Goldylocks!" He called from above. She twisted around to view the quarter deck, the furrow of her brow depicting just how amused she wasn't. But she held her tongue as the sailor waved her over, and she immediately jumped at the opportunity to avoid Laeima. The captain's orders were more of pull this, move this there, and something to do with ropes, and Kirova complied with every request.
Amidst her dedication to the crew and around half an hour later, the site of the distant Aurumus and Laeima speaking to each other on the other side of the ship caught her attention. Providing an adequate distraction from her duties, Kirova longed for the wind to carry their words over. What could they have been talking about? What was she even like now? Who had she become? Surely Aurumus had a better idea than she did. And she damn well b--
"Oof!" Kirova's thoughts were suddenly halted as she lost her footing ascending the final step to the quarter deck, and nearly toppled over the sailor in front of her. But instead of toppling him over, he had been shoved forward so hard that he ran into the wooden wall to the captain's cabin and the poopdeck above. "Tch..." Kirova winced from the wooden floor as she peered up at the man she shoved and worked to pick herself up. The man, she found, was pissed.
"The fuck is your problem, ay? Can't ye watch where ya goin', lass?" The hot headed sailor turned on her, practically red in the face as his glare bore down into her.
"It was an accident," Kirova insisted with a grunt as she brushed her legs off.
"Horse shit i's 'n accident," he spat back. "Ye been mean muggin' th' whole crew since ye got on. Y' don' wanna sail with us, lass? Tha's fine. Ye can swim th' rest o' th' way if ya gonna get handsy with's."
Kirova stood her ground with her chin raised and her steadied gaze upon the sailor. She was on thin ice with this one, and she didn't want to run the risk of having the entire crew against her, or her company for that matter. But she wasn't about to grovel and ask for forgiveness. The man in front of her, Jon she thought his name was, was at least a foot taller than her with a little more mass. She could take him on easiliy if it came down to it. "I tripped and I fell," Kirova replied simply, yet sternly. "I don't want -"
"What's goin' on 'ere, then?" The demand boomed through the door before it had even opened, and out stepped the captain from his cabin. The man wasn't your stereotypical sailor. He was fairly well dressed in expensive threads that could barely hold his beer gut in, and he was clean shaven and pristine down to the very last fingernail. The only things that set him apart from any run of the mill noble were the shoddy pirate hat atop his head, the dirt and dust patted here and there on his outfit from his environment, and the bulk of muscle mass he surely had somewhere amongst the fat.
Jon's finger pointed condemningly at Kirova. "She came at me, tha's wot!" The captain let out a breathy snarl and turned his attention to Kirova.
"Oh, bullshit!" Kirova snapped. "I tripped and ran into the sorry bastard! That's hardly assault."
"Th' only sorry bastard on this ship be ye, lass," Jon retorted.
"Fuck you!" Kirova barked.
Jon opened his arms tauntingly at Kirova and stepped forward in attempts to intimidate. "Sure, Goldylocks! Bring in yer pretty lady friend o'er there too, 'n me 'n th' boys 'll 'ave a go! Would'nae wanna leave 'em out o' th' fun, ay?"
Suddenly a crack filled the air. Kirova's fist flew forward so fast she hadn't even realized she threw a punch at the guy until the impact reverberated all through her arm, and his head lead his body in a twist away with the momentum and lost balance. Immediately the captain drew his sword from his sheath and held it to Kirova's throat, and she froze.
"I've seen enough, lass," the captain muttered. "You're a guest on my ship, an' I don't take kindly t' people roughin' up my crew. So we can do this th' easy way, an' ye see yourself down t' th' brig, or ye can fight 'n get gutted right h--"
"Captain," Laeima spoke out in interruption as she approached from behind Kirova. Aurumus towered close behind her as well. All eyes were on the woman as she ascended the steps and passed Kirova, positioning herself between the two opposing forces. The rest of the crew seemed to gather round as well, the odd mix of goblins, dwarves and humans' eyes on the commotion. Laeima's collected gaze rested upon the captain as she spoke with conviction. "Lower your weapon from my sister's throat, and we'll resolve the issue with words like civilized people."
"Words never healed a busted lip, lass," the captain responded unwaveringly. Kirova clenched her jaw as her eyes flit between the two now. The towering Aurumus stood awkwardly between Kirova and Laeima, but he seemed ready to defend his party if necessary.
"No, I imagine not," Laeima spoke again, authoritative eyes locked on his. "But coin, on the other hand, can get you anything you desire. By raising your weapon at my company, you're telling me you wish to forego your payment for this journey. Am I misinterpretting that?" A single sculpted brow raised at him, a challenge she knew he couldn't compete.
The captain grimaced at her words. He seemed to hate being put in his place over money he apparently needed. He lowered he sword from Kirova's neck, but kept it drawn with an idle tilt toward the floor. Kirova eased from her tensed stance and rolled her shoulder, her eyes shooting glares between him and Jon. "We had an agreement, aye," the captain said, "but I won't tolerate violence toward my crew. She goes in th' brig 'til we ar-"
"Then consider this," Laeima interrupted, her voice raising to overpower him. "You control your crew as I'll handle mine, meaning you're taking my sister nowhere. I'll offer you triple your payment for this single trip and dismiss you of the return journey, and you'll never see us again. We will not approach you and you will not approach us until we reach the pier. Do I make myself clear?"
Kirova felt a little intimidated at the tone she used, and with a quick glance around she could tell she wasn't the only one. Her sister had a presence she couldn't quite explain, and while her pride was hurt that she didn't get out of the situation herself, she didn't mind the free pass. The captain's eyes shifted onto Kirova threateningly, and she only nodded in response to note that she complied with the agreement.
"Deal," the captain finally grunted.
Everyone past that point disgruntledly went their own ways. Kirova returned to her mini closet of a room, and didn't care to see where anyone else had gone. She hadn't really been keeping track of how long she spent in there, though it had been enough to allow most of her anger to subside. Until she heard a wrap on the door.
Kirova peered up at the wooden door, feeling for her dagger along her beltline just in case, and rose to her feet to approach it. Her fingertips curled around the knob, and slowly she cracked it open preparing for the worst. But an angry bearded man wasn't what she was greeted with. Instead, Laeima stood calmly on the other side of the door. Their eyes met, and for the longest moment neither of them said anything. It seemed to be a recurring thing between them, and Kirova wasn't sure how to feel about it. But Laeima broke the ice this time, thankfully.
"Gadgetzan is in sight," she informed her calmly. "We'll be arriving shortly. Gather your things and some rations. We'll be heading out as soon as we dock."
Kirova paused, expecting something completely different, even though she had no idea what that something may have been. Her parted lips hesitated to speak, so she nodded in affirmation instead. After Kirova offered nothing but silence, Laeima nodded in acceptance that it was all she was going to get, and took a step backwards to leave. Though in the subtlest moment of panic, Kirova spoke to keep her there.
"You didn't have to do that earlier," Kirova muttered. They weren't the words she wanted to say.
Laeima nodded her head before Kirova had even neared the finality of her statement, as though to dismiss what she spoke were words that simply did not need to be said. However, she allowed her to finish before offering a retort. Perhaps she wasn't raised to be such an egotistical lunatic after all.
"I know." It was a simple answer. One that didn't answer just what Kirova voiced, but perhaps her inner conflict as well. She knew it wasn't what she wanted to say, she knew what she felt, yet she was still there. The heiress of Whiteblade offered her sibling a pressed smile, though it was one of genuine merit as opposed to the ones she had been known to offer elsewhere.
Kirova wasn't sure how to react, nor was she sure what to have expected. Maybe she had seen it blowing up and she was ready to jump at the chance to defend herself or offend Laeima, but those two simple words disarmed her. Struck by silence, Laeima took a step backwards to leave finally. "Joseff and I will be waiting for you on deck," she reminded her. And just like that, she turned and left Kirova to her internal turmoil.
