"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

The trotting of the horses ahead slowed down to a light jog than the thunderous pacing that they had carried themselves without throughout this journey. The man’s claims had not been false, his promises realized at least up to this point. Through the tinted glass of the elaborate and elegant carriage, she could make out beyond the tree line the faintest hues of orange and yellow, indicate of the sun rising. It was a marvelous sight, far from unique or anything uncommon, but given the circumstances surrounding what had transpired in the last day, it meant everything.

She was in Crocus, having managed to do what she feared would have taken her days, in a simple night’s effort.

And without any investment on her part either. Little risk to herself. Little risk out of trust. A rare thing to potentially sacrifice and risk gambling on.

But this time her gamble paid off. The man had – despite what their initial first encounter may have convinced her of – had helped her.

Sitting there, simply agape as to how things had panned out thus far, a part of her was hopeful, the fear that had beset upon her maybe feeling a little less real than how it did only hours before. But that was too generous of a thinking. All that this trip had meant was that her invitation to the game was simply not discarded. Arriving in Crocus, it was something to be commended. It was a risk. Oak, far off as it may have been, at least afforded her some level of safety. That wasn’t true here.

No doubt that the woman whom stepped out of the carriage and towards the main gates of the capital of Fiore had enemies within, all of whom would love nothing more than to see her fall.

It was her against the world and she had stepped into the belly of the beast without aid, without direction, and without a plan.

“What am I doing here,” she mused under her breath, the enormity of the situation beginning to dawn upon her. Her presence alone would not be able to change the fate of what was to come, of her destiny being denied.

367/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)

"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

Stumbling through the city, just being within Crocus felt different.

Alien.

So much time had passed since she had last been here under even somewhat welcome circumstances, however many years ago that may have been. Despite having lived within the capital for most of her life, Astrid had never seen much of the city, not through the eyes of a commoner, like someone who was not under besiege by the people whom sought to provide her with praise and votes of confidence and cheers.

To be like them, without a care in the world, it was something that at times she could not help but wish she could have experienced.

Now instead she found herself here again, the first time in which such an opportunity may have been feasible, only to be forced to remember and recognize that her freedom was – until she had carried through and stopped her father – impossible to ever believe hers again.

A short time allowed her the chance to reflect, looking upon what the city had to offer, hoping for some memory to come back to her. A turn the corner hoping to maybe recall something which happened to her in a past life, an interaction that stuck within her identity, but sadly there were not a single recollection that she could inspire forth. This went for quite some time, each time Astrid ventured through with some child-like sense of optimism that something may come to her.

Alas, nothing. Despite her best efforts, not a single memory could be salvaged here.

Instead, her head was nothing but full of fear and dread, the reality of her father’s effort still being at the foremost thought. It was after all, her entire reasoning for being here. Reflections of the past were nothing more than distractions in the end.

But when left with no direction, no path to take, what was the difference between a distraction and a reflection?

688/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)

"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

Some more meaningless traversing through the city led Astrid nowhere, her hopes having now as much become hoping to figure out some sort of plan as it did anything else. Finally, an errant path down one alleyway in particular led her to something that satisfied more than what Astrid could have ever imagined.

Standing there, she did not see Astrid at first, but the woman certainly saw her. It had been several years, but hardly anything had changed. That there were so little difference from when she last saw her, Astrid could not help but question what she was seeing were true. She had to know for sure. Despite the risk posed, Astrid moved towards the woman, hopeful to get a better look, and perhaps certainty.

It was when the woman turned around that Astrid’s curiosity was sated, her hopes being shown life for the first time since she had arrived within the city. Her eyes lit up, amazed at how the woman had barely changed since they had last seen one another. She remained as beautiful as she had been before, the elegance in her appearance, her outfit, the fox-like elements that her Demi-Human form carried; though she may not have fully appreciated the female body back then as she did now, she wondered how she could not have come to admire this woman beforehand.

“Lady Tsara!?” she called out, ignoring the risk that may have been posed in that, simply enthralled by the beauty of the first face that she recalled since arriving.

The woman looked up, the expression on her face of utter disbelief, like that of seeing a ghost. She turned her head, a frantic look upon her face, hopeful to find the source and as her eyes dawned upon Astrid, utter elation filled her face. “Astrid?” She said it aloud, in disbelief, her eyes betraying her. Another look, focusing upon the details, and then she were certain, “Astrid!”

1011/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)

"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

The two embraced, sheer excitement between them. For the younger woman, a sense of reunion paired with an unexpected level of attraction, whilst the other reunited with a woman whom she held close to her heart once, elated to see again. “You’re… You’re alive!?”

“Of course,” Astrid said with a flair of nonchalant nature, deliberately ignorant of the reason for the woman’s surprise. No doubt, if Astrid had heard of her father’s plan from as far away as in Oak Town, it would certainly have been the talk of the town within Crocus, the heart of it all. “I’ve missed you, Lady Tsara…” There was vulnerability in her voice, wishing both to hide her true reasons for being here whilst finding herself unexpected smitten, “You look… you look good.”

A light chuckle escaped from the fox woman’s lips, sincerity in it. But even that did not hide the worried look upon her face, “I was worried for you. Heh, you’ll forgive me if I need a moment,” it was clear the woman was distraught at the sight of Astrid. Thrilled, no doubt. But likely also coming to terms with the fact that one she held close were no longer dead, but right before her again. “I’m sure you know of what has happened. Of what your father has done?”

Astrid nodded, “Regrettably. But I don’t intend on allowing him simply telling the world of my death.” It was risky, showing her hand before the woman. Although they had always been close, Lady Tsara had long been a close friend to the family, having worked alongside her father for as long as Astrid could remember. She and Astrid’s mother were close, and her closeness had led her to being something of an unofficial aunt to Astrid. There was confidence that Astrid held towards the woman, even if it may have been a risky situation.

The woman said nothing at first, looking upon Astrid, as if reading her heart and determination. “You mean it, don’t you?”

Feeling the hand rub against her shoulder, Astrid could not help but feel safe. It was a case of her making herself vulnerable, but there was a sense of safety that came with being with the woman. “I am not dead, yet he would prefer me so. I had thought myself once safe dodging assassins. His proclamation does nothing but paint a false story, more than that, robbing me of the fate that he,” she said of scorn, “that you, that my mother sought for me.”

She was not sure what the fox woman would do, how she would react. It was a brief few moments, but it felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, the close embrace as the fox woman gripped her, pulling her in to a deep, intense embrace. If there were any doubts left in Astrid’s mind as to if she had made the right decision, they were all but gone. As she pulled back, Astrid peered up to see the smile on Lady Tsara’s face, an almost cruel intention hidden within the eyes that looked deep within her. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed. Always were a bit of a rebel.” She pulled Astrid in again, her hand gently patting against the woman’s head, “Always had high hopes for you. That one day you’d find your own path. Glad to see that came true.”

Lady Tsara pulled back again, looking with glee at Astrid, a few tears having run down her face. Astrid, upon seeing this, couldn’t help but feel her heart since slightly, the expression on her face as much confirming this.

“Relax my dear Astrid, these are tears of joy. Come,” the woman began walking, stopping before turning to Astrid, beckoning for her to follow, “We have some catching up to do. And I know some people who you may want to meet.”

1654/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)