10 - Greva/Lesnia 02 - "Crunch"
/Crunch/. Greva lifted a scaly foot in minor disgust, examining whatever latest little construction she had just stepped on. Winning over Lesnia for the purpose of breaking the revival of the ring had not only been easier than expected, it was trivial. Greva blamed it on Lesnia’s initially overdone sparkly attitude. Now she almost missed it. Although, she surmised it also was relevant that Lesnia could hardly get into /more/ trouble with the pompous band of ancient Fae that in Greva’s opinion, had far too high opinions of themselves.
Lesnia had taken Greva’s direction to “make herself at home” with a more gusto than Greva had anticipated however. Tiny constructs made out of twigs, leaves, and the occasional larger dust mote sooner were popping up all over Greva’s abode. This latest, now very broken creation, had incorporated a green thread Greva suspected originated from Lesnia’s green corset.
At first, Greva was expecting only a few food accommodations for the Fae, but soon found herself awash with requests for specific articles of clothing, or that one-book-Lesnia-really-needed-to-read-again. Greva had put her foot down after she came across she found Lesnia talking to one of Greva’s servants, requesting that he bring her the 3 chests containing all her jewelry and various accessories. After 3 days of pleading and barely contained sulking, Greva had begrudgingly allowed for 1 chest to be brought over. As she walked away, she was amused in spite of herself that Lesnia then gave detailed instructions to the attending servant on which items to bring from each chest and how to pack them appropriately.
Greva set aside the squashed assortment of twigs with the green thread, and finished her walk to Lesnia’s quarters. She found Lesnia laying on the floor, clothes spread across the room in such a fashion that was almost impressively messy. Lesnia, however, was not wearing any of them. Greva was surprised by the number of tattoos dotting Lesnia’s form. She recognized some of them. They detailed her chest, and pelvis, as was common for the Fae. But curiously, Lesnia also had tattoos on her upper legs, in styles Greva hadn’t seen before.
Greva gnashed her teeth to announce her presence. Lesnia continued to lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. A faint flush in her cheeks, and the slight rise and fall of her small torso, noted Greva, meant she wasn’t dead.
“I’ve received some interesting news from the network. Meet me downstairs in 10 minutes, and we’ll discuss it over dinner” Greva spoke into the room. Lesnia did not make any indication of having heard Greva, nor seen her presence. “Very well, I’ll see you in 20 minutes,” Greva amended. Still no reaction. Greva gnashed her teeth again, and began to walk to the archives in her basement. There were some documents she wished to have ready at dinner. She turned the corner, and /crunch/. A deep sigh, and she continued on her way.
-
Lesnia lay on the floor, surrounded by the clothes she had requested from her small apartment. There was a fleeting moment of pride that she had managed to fit as much into that space as she had, over the years. But then it was gone, and the darkness returned. Lesnia had experienced several negative interactions with humans over her long life thus far, but this one had shaken her differently. The experience kept playing over and over in her mind.
She had already resolved to return to her study of poisons and sleeper agents. Before that meeting, she would have assumed she would have detected it early on, if not through the smell, then certainly the first taste. But her training had left her, apparently. That was almost as disconcerting as the feeling of violation that was still holding on to her bones.
Then she was vaguely aware that Greva was there, speaking to her. A distant embarrassment regarding her nudity tickled the back of her mind, but then that too was gone to the darkness. Something about dinner, and then Greva was gone again. Time strayed from Lesnia’s mind once more.
When she came to, the light from her window had dimmed considerably. Recalling Greva had said something about dinner, Lesnia gingerly slumped into a sitting position, and then staggered stiffly through the large house. A servant passed her, and then returned, and after the offer was ignored by Lesnia, threaded one arm, and then the other into a soft robe. It was pleasantly warm.
-
Greva had long finished her dinner, and was reviewing some of the dustier pertinent volumes when the arrival of a frail shadow caught her attention. She looked up, and Lesnia was standing in the doorway. She was now wearing a robe, although it hadn’t been fastened, exposing in part the tattoos Greva had seen earlier, and the ties were trailing on the ground. She made a pitiful figure, altogether, with her birdsnest hair floating above her face.
Lesnia wasn’t keeping up her slight magicks either - her ears were visibly pointed, and her eyes were slightly larger than human proportions. Greva wondered if that had been the case earlier and she hadn’t noticed.
Greva rose from her seat, and stuck a ribbon in the open tome she had been reviewing. Pulling another chair back from the table, she stepped over to Lesnia, and after a brief pause secured her robe, and knotted the ties. Directing the small Fae over to the proffered chair with gentle clawed hands, Greva wondered if the Fae was broken beyond recall. She hadn’t anticipated the incident having such an impact. Then again, Greva thought, Lesnia had been in fairly bad shape when she had arrived. Hopefully she would recover soon, so she’d be useful in the coming months of the hunt. And also so Greva wouldn’t have such a somber housemate of sorts. The living arrangement was very temporary, but while working together, constantly travelling back and forth across the city would hardly do. And she was already here.
Greva instructed the chef to prepare some hot broth for the Fae. The mounted golems in nearly every room made it so Greva never had to find her servants, and vice versa. They were simply available, always.
When the broth arrived, Lesnia, who had since slumped such that her forehead was resting against the tabletop, stirred, and took a few small sips. Progress, then. Something, at least. Greva returned to the book.
Some time later, Greva became aware that Lesnia was watching her. Looking up from the book once again, she made eye contact with the small Fae.
“Are you ready to talk about the news I mentioned earlier?” Greva posed.
Lesnia’s eyes filled with water, but she nodded minutely.
“Very well. A bit back, perhaps a week or two ago, I received word that a certain someone would be traveling to the city by boat. Earlier today, she arrived,” Greva began.
Lesnia continued to stare mutely, tears bulging from her eyes, but none had spilled, as yet.
“That certain someone being a person of not dismissable power, I had the thought to perhaps reach out and inform them of our intentions to obliterate the reforming ring before it reaches its previous influence,” Greva continued. “You may know her in fact. She is Clarize, Guard of the Gate, Speaker to Serpents, and Lady of the Fallen Throne. Of Atlantis fame,” Greva appended.
Lesnia for all the world appeared to be unmoving, and it was unclear if anything Greva had just said had registered. Greva sighed, not for the first time that day.
“Is there something else you’d prefer to discuss?” she said, after a moment.
Lesnia began to gently cry, tears streaming as slight sobs wracked her thin frame. Greva looked up at the ceiling, as if that would provide her with some guidance in this situation. After a brief consideration, she decided the Fae needed additional rest. Greva stood, and picked up the chair Lesnia was sitting in. Greva carried Lesnia, chair and all, back to Lesnia’s chambers.
Upon arrival, Greva sat the chair back down, and prepared Lesnia’s bed for the night. Then, her large clawed hands scooped Lesnia out of her chair, and slid her beneath the covers, and folded the covers back over the crying figure. Greva looked down on the Fae, and marveled at the change from deciding to end her life abstractly one day, and a handful of days later, caring for her almost to the degree of a nursemaid.
Greva moved the chair to be bed adjacent, and rested one scaled hand on the covers covering the weeping Fae. She began to softly sing, in her deep, scratchy tones from fuzzy memories of when Greva was young, and foolish, and had not yet deserved territory of her own yet. She sang, and remembered past wars, and losses. She sang, and felt the sobbing movement under her hand slowly subside, and finally transition into sleep. Greva ended her songs soon after, but she didn’t rise from the chair. She stayed by the bed, eyes resting on the Fae’s robed figure tucked underneath the large covers. Greva contemplated.
Lesnia had taken Greva’s direction to “make herself at home” with a more gusto than Greva had anticipated however. Tiny constructs made out of twigs, leaves, and the occasional larger dust mote sooner were popping up all over Greva’s abode. This latest, now very broken creation, had incorporated a green thread Greva suspected originated from Lesnia’s green corset.
At first, Greva was expecting only a few food accommodations for the Fae, but soon found herself awash with requests for specific articles of clothing, or that one-book-Lesnia-really-needed-to-read-again. Greva had put her foot down after she came across she found Lesnia talking to one of Greva’s servants, requesting that he bring her the 3 chests containing all her jewelry and various accessories. After 3 days of pleading and barely contained sulking, Greva had begrudgingly allowed for 1 chest to be brought over. As she walked away, she was amused in spite of herself that Lesnia then gave detailed instructions to the attending servant on which items to bring from each chest and how to pack them appropriately.
Greva set aside the squashed assortment of twigs with the green thread, and finished her walk to Lesnia’s quarters. She found Lesnia laying on the floor, clothes spread across the room in such a fashion that was almost impressively messy. Lesnia, however, was not wearing any of them. Greva was surprised by the number of tattoos dotting Lesnia’s form. She recognized some of them. They detailed her chest, and pelvis, as was common for the Fae. But curiously, Lesnia also had tattoos on her upper legs, in styles Greva hadn’t seen before.
Greva gnashed her teeth to announce her presence. Lesnia continued to lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. A faint flush in her cheeks, and the slight rise and fall of her small torso, noted Greva, meant she wasn’t dead.
“I’ve received some interesting news from the network. Meet me downstairs in 10 minutes, and we’ll discuss it over dinner” Greva spoke into the room. Lesnia did not make any indication of having heard Greva, nor seen her presence. “Very well, I’ll see you in 20 minutes,” Greva amended. Still no reaction. Greva gnashed her teeth again, and began to walk to the archives in her basement. There were some documents she wished to have ready at dinner. She turned the corner, and /crunch/. A deep sigh, and she continued on her way.
-
Lesnia lay on the floor, surrounded by the clothes she had requested from her small apartment. There was a fleeting moment of pride that she had managed to fit as much into that space as she had, over the years. But then it was gone, and the darkness returned. Lesnia had experienced several negative interactions with humans over her long life thus far, but this one had shaken her differently. The experience kept playing over and over in her mind.
She had already resolved to return to her study of poisons and sleeper agents. Before that meeting, she would have assumed she would have detected it early on, if not through the smell, then certainly the first taste. But her training had left her, apparently. That was almost as disconcerting as the feeling of violation that was still holding on to her bones.
Then she was vaguely aware that Greva was there, speaking to her. A distant embarrassment regarding her nudity tickled the back of her mind, but then that too was gone to the darkness. Something about dinner, and then Greva was gone again. Time strayed from Lesnia’s mind once more.
When she came to, the light from her window had dimmed considerably. Recalling Greva had said something about dinner, Lesnia gingerly slumped into a sitting position, and then staggered stiffly through the large house. A servant passed her, and then returned, and after the offer was ignored by Lesnia, threaded one arm, and then the other into a soft robe. It was pleasantly warm.
-
Greva had long finished her dinner, and was reviewing some of the dustier pertinent volumes when the arrival of a frail shadow caught her attention. She looked up, and Lesnia was standing in the doorway. She was now wearing a robe, although it hadn’t been fastened, exposing in part the tattoos Greva had seen earlier, and the ties were trailing on the ground. She made a pitiful figure, altogether, with her birdsnest hair floating above her face.
Lesnia wasn’t keeping up her slight magicks either - her ears were visibly pointed, and her eyes were slightly larger than human proportions. Greva wondered if that had been the case earlier and she hadn’t noticed.
Greva rose from her seat, and stuck a ribbon in the open tome she had been reviewing. Pulling another chair back from the table, she stepped over to Lesnia, and after a brief pause secured her robe, and knotted the ties. Directing the small Fae over to the proffered chair with gentle clawed hands, Greva wondered if the Fae was broken beyond recall. She hadn’t anticipated the incident having such an impact. Then again, Greva thought, Lesnia had been in fairly bad shape when she had arrived. Hopefully she would recover soon, so she’d be useful in the coming months of the hunt. And also so Greva wouldn’t have such a somber housemate of sorts. The living arrangement was very temporary, but while working together, constantly travelling back and forth across the city would hardly do. And she was already here.
Greva instructed the chef to prepare some hot broth for the Fae. The mounted golems in nearly every room made it so Greva never had to find her servants, and vice versa. They were simply available, always.
When the broth arrived, Lesnia, who had since slumped such that her forehead was resting against the tabletop, stirred, and took a few small sips. Progress, then. Something, at least. Greva returned to the book.
Some time later, Greva became aware that Lesnia was watching her. Looking up from the book once again, she made eye contact with the small Fae.
“Are you ready to talk about the news I mentioned earlier?” Greva posed.
Lesnia’s eyes filled with water, but she nodded minutely.
“Very well. A bit back, perhaps a week or two ago, I received word that a certain someone would be traveling to the city by boat. Earlier today, she arrived,” Greva began.
Lesnia continued to stare mutely, tears bulging from her eyes, but none had spilled, as yet.
“That certain someone being a person of not dismissable power, I had the thought to perhaps reach out and inform them of our intentions to obliterate the reforming ring before it reaches its previous influence,” Greva continued. “You may know her in fact. She is Clarize, Guard of the Gate, Speaker to Serpents, and Lady of the Fallen Throne. Of Atlantis fame,” Greva appended.
Lesnia for all the world appeared to be unmoving, and it was unclear if anything Greva had just said had registered. Greva sighed, not for the first time that day.
“Is there something else you’d prefer to discuss?” she said, after a moment.
Lesnia began to gently cry, tears streaming as slight sobs wracked her thin frame. Greva looked up at the ceiling, as if that would provide her with some guidance in this situation. After a brief consideration, she decided the Fae needed additional rest. Greva stood, and picked up the chair Lesnia was sitting in. Greva carried Lesnia, chair and all, back to Lesnia’s chambers.
Upon arrival, Greva sat the chair back down, and prepared Lesnia’s bed for the night. Then, her large clawed hands scooped Lesnia out of her chair, and slid her beneath the covers, and folded the covers back over the crying figure. Greva looked down on the Fae, and marveled at the change from deciding to end her life abstractly one day, and a handful of days later, caring for her almost to the degree of a nursemaid.
Greva moved the chair to be bed adjacent, and rested one scaled hand on the covers covering the weeping Fae. She began to softly sing, in her deep, scratchy tones from fuzzy memories of when Greva was young, and foolish, and had not yet deserved territory of her own yet. She sang, and remembered past wars, and losses. She sang, and felt the sobbing movement under her hand slowly subside, and finally transition into sleep. Greva ended her songs soon after, but she didn’t rise from the chair. She stayed by the bed, eyes resting on the Fae’s robed figure tucked underneath the large covers. Greva contemplated.
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