Luck Ran Out... (Pk Post)

[CaffeinatedCrow 259]

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.”

Spoiler

Theme

 

The month prior had been filled with so much joy, so much care. A gentleness that made everything so soft. Ambrosine felt like things were going to turn around for her- one way or another. A hope in her heart that she hadn’t felt in a long-long time.

 

That hope would not last long…
 

Blood and screams filled the air in Celia’lin that fateful evening. The sound of horse-hooves clambering upon stone, the sound of flesh being met with a blade- everything had turned so wrong so quickly. An uttered phrase of “Igne’Sae” was made, yet barely did that flame begin to alight. That warmth died just as a new warmth had spread upon her left shoulder.
 

The smell of iron filled the air, the smell of rot as well- no… not rot… Sulfur. It was a suffocating smell- and it carried with her as she had heard the last few words of her Haelun- something she tried to hold onto.
 

“Try and stay alive oem’ii…”
 

Tears couldn’t bring the amount of pleads she wanted to share, how she had thought-
“No- please- not again. Not again. Anything but this.” 

But she was not so fortunate, not like the times before. 

No comfort would soothe her anymore- not this time, not even the uttered apologies of one of her captors.

 

“Please… live…”
She thought to herself, but as she kept her teary eyes shut- she could only remember the faces of those she knew…

Aiyeis, her Haelun
Erendriel, a trusted friend

Elarhil, a longtime llir

Seth Calith, a Maln figure

Soris, someone she aided and thought of as a friend

Alistair, someone she cared too much about

Ser Artel, a trusted Alchemy buddy

Kendall Cooper, a momentary llir

Mare, her teacher and llir

Kyl’lian, an old fiance- a man who had her heart

Valazaer, even in death- she could never have hated him

Her birth Haelun

Her birth father

Her sister…
 

There were many more, but soon her mind was plagued as the flames of a firepit licked at her skin- her screams filling the night air as her tears felt like boiling licks at her skin. Only did her nerves finally burn away- did her mind have a fragment of clarity- the cheery macabre sound of a woman cheering for her demise- as soon the elfess’ ashes had taken to the skies.
 

A little lizard would watch in silence- now in the presence of someone new- someone darker. Nothing could be done, and nothing could be said.

The only hope of a bright soul now burned away, only having a thought that she hoped she was remembered, and that she had finally found love… somewhere in the hearts she left behind.

 

In the night sky- Ambrosine would fine three familiar faces- and she finally... finally, found home.
 

Ambrosine Decebal-  Made 535 Days and 22 Hours.
Died; Age 132
Born; SA 22
 

Spoiler

Thank you for all that rp'd tonight in Celia'lin! Twas fun and I hope to those that have met my elfy Ambrosine loved her as much as I- she was a dear- and I am glad to have played her.

 

[SimplySeo 6999]

SACRIFICE
 

Ambrosine's screams rung out over the moors like a death-knell, rising over the sound of her bubbling flesh and the cackling of a madwoman. She screamed and screamed- And tried to crawl her way out, frantically to safety- Only for an Undead Northman to drive her back into the sacrificial pit with a firm 'kick' from his boot..

 

She screamed until she had no voice left to scream with- For the fire had claimed that too, then finally, she died, all while her little lizard watched on, writhing in the hands of her killer. Its own scream was cut short- A small, weak yelp as the darkstalker bit off its head- The head crunched, and the rest was dispersed into the sacrificial pit. As the screams ceased, and the bodies charred- A raven cawed from afar. Jormunharr Ingmornesson looked up- And on his cold, dessicated features and blood-stained lips, there was a smile.

 

BLOOD FOR THE BLACK GOD
SKULLS FOR HIS DARK THRONE
ᚾᚨᚱᚷᚱᛁᚾᛞᚺᛖᛁᛗ

[Saun_399 289]

Aluthshae looked to his trusted friend attempting to read her expression as she stood rigid in the wake of the body. Wordlessly, he stepped up in her inability to move, shedding his long trailing cardigan and covering the body with the dark woven wool. Pulling it up to the face and scorched, long hair. Some recognition in his eyes quickly leaving as he managed to hide the poor girl's lifeless features from his sight.

 

Tucking in the cardigan around her, before starting to lift the girl in his arms. Cradling her, only legs visible hanging from his arms and the draping fabric, darkened and dehydrated down to bone. He continued to hold her steady as the woman next to him dropped down and and broke, clinging to her daughter before he could pull the girl away from her forever. Not letting himself be dragged downwards by her grasp, just watching as his dear friend grieved.
 

 

[__Hergh 785]

The aformentioned mother would wail. The loss of her daughter a final nail to the tomb that would be her own mind. Clutching the corpse with one hand as her knees sought the ground. Sobs wracking that weakened form of hers. "Oh sweet child,"  She'd choke, words barely escaping as more than a croak. The drake that had once coiled about her shoulders, now seeking to rest atop the charred carcass. Only hours before had she said words to the youth, such falling upon deaf ears. No longer a mother was she, now that her final child had fallen. A horrid fate to live past ones own lineage. 

 

A child found, not made. 

[NLThomas 1225]

Hammer hitting steel rings through the forge. Strike after strike on orange hot metal guided by a cold precise hand. Memories flood the mind of the pale elf with each strike of the hammer ringing the steel.

 

Memories many yet few. The day they met during a festival in Talar’nor, the day the friendship started. Then it was the quiet moments where not many words were spoken and yet, that stern and cold elf was happy with those moments. Each and every second of those many memories play in his mind until it all disappears with a deep sigh. 

 

The elf his cold eyes turn to look over to the flames and he leans himself upon the anvil. The often posh and stern posture falters and his cold hand reaches up to remove some hair from his face and a tired huff of air escapes, with it a tired expression takes him over. 

 

“You promised me to visit again...”

 

He quietly spoke to none but himself and the cold heartless machinery that surrounded him. Eyes falter from the flames and down to the hand that leans upon the anvil, staring towards his pinky finger with the memory of the childish promise Ambrosine had made a few times over, that she would be back, and he promised so too. 

 

A promise broken. 

[Rig 17581]

 

Alistair quietly lamented his most prized accomplice and ally, the lumbering creature eying an old keepsake within his hoard. A prized ruby which reminded him of somebody.

 

"There was so much that I wished to tell her if only I had the time. Yet, despite my life never ending, hers is certainly over."

 

The Titan paused in his deliberation, remembering something.

 

"Bend down low to the lily of the Valley," he sang now without elegance, nor with emotion. It was an inhuman voice accompanied by the creature's grating, monstrous voice which sounded like metal scraping against pavement. Oddly melodious, but not at all the voice of a man. No, he was not human, and had not been for a thousand years.

 

"Enjoy here the chyme of a million little bells. The unsung words in the echo of the music, and the secret that those lilies never tell. Isn't it a wonder what you hear? Once you listen to the smallest things of the world we're living in. Bend down low to the Lilly of the Valley, for the music's there and waiting to begin. Again, and again. The Elfin bells of the Lily of the Valley, which fill the moonlit glens of the Garden and Beyond."

 

Yes, the Azdrazi decided. He was no longer human after all.

 

 

Edited November 14, 2023 by RIGOR