A
Alabaster
Guest
Original poster
"You're hovering again."
"Just making sure you don't singe your fur this time, Miss."
The sucking of teeth followed by a depreciative tutting quirked the feline's mouth into a scowl.
"Mrs." She was quick to correct, dropping a handful of bramble into the seething pot before her. The concoction bubbled and foamed at the surface, tendrils of smoke reaching forth like the pleading hands of victims cast overboard into the sea.
"Yes, yes, of course. The dutiful wife, plunging herself into the depths of Hell all for the sake of her dearly betrothed. Lord, how could I forget?"
"Your attitude is wearing as thin as your humor, Malachai. Now shut your trap and let me concentrate."
"Come ooon, Cal, this is boring! Your stupid tracking spells never work anyway, let's go out and catch us a tasty treat!"
"I said, shut, UP!" A thunderous clap as she threw her hands down in exasperation, palms slapping against the floorboards with enough force to splinter them at the seams. A single plank of wood uprooted from its place and slung upwards like a catapult, one corner just barely nicking the cauldron's edge and causing the entire potion to slosh and sway.
"No, no, no no NO!" Calista all but threw herself forward, fingers splayed like nets to try and catch the pot before it inevitably teetered over and spilled its contents across the floor. "FUCK!" Clasping the now empty container in both hands, she lifted it above her head and hurled it in no particular direction. But the clang of dented metal did little to soothe her, and thus she turned her enraged expression upon her counterpart.
"H-hey now." Palms raised in a defensive gesture, protecting his face from any wayward strikes she may deliver. "What are the chances that's the one that would have worked, huh? You've already tried every combination under the sun. You've said it yourself, the guy's too good."
"Which is more than I can say about you!" She screeched, lurching forward to pummel the man around his shoulders with iron tight fists. "You are an absolute nuisance! Why do I even bother with you?!"
"Hey, you asked for my help! OW! You think just anyone can waltz right through the planes of life and death like I can? You need me!"
A bold claim coming from someone who was currently getting the tar beat out of him, but nevertheless, he was right. She did need his help. Easy as it was for her to traverse between realms, it was even easier to lose herself in the comfort and simplicity of death. To just let it all go--her family, her quest to reunite them, that aching desire that plagued her every waking moment--it would be so easy to just let it all slip away to the Void. The place was intoxicating, and she could be lost forever to its clutches. But that wasn't the endgame here. She had only one goal, one motivation that drove her repeatedly to the brink of that sweet relief: to find him. It was the only thought that kept her tethered to reality. Yes, all to find him.
"Cal--"
"Enough, Malachai." Ceasing her flailing limbs, the feline gave him a decisive shove before stepping away, already all too familiar with the words he would speak. And she didn't want to hear them.
"Cal. He doesn't want to be found."
"I told you, keep out of my head."
"Why do you do this to yourself? Torture yourself day and night, for a man who abandoned you? Why do you even care?"
"Because I need to know how." Her arms crossed with a huff, embracing herself snugly around her core to keep from spilling her guts completely. "I need to hear it, from his own lips: how he could just fucking walk away. No warning, no goodbye. How can you just do that to someone you love?! No," she raised a hand to silence him before he could even take a breath to answer. "Enough talking. Gather your things. We're going out."
"Out?"
"You're right. The tracking doesn't work. So, let's go get that tasty treat, hm?"
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~
The hunt was the highlight of her day. It always was. She was unnaturally skilled in the craft of murder, and put in her element, there wasn't a creature on earth that could escape her predatory clutches. None save for that blasted husband of hers. But with Malachai at her side, even that was bound to change. They were racking up power in double time. Not since Lord Delxcrox himself had Calista found herself paired with such a malicious fiend in the field. For all of his childlike whimsies and generally appealing demeanor, Cal had to admit, the Spiritwalker had some serious game. And his preternatural ability to channel energies of the deceased right into her vessel without the need for lengthy ritual was convenient, to say the least. Even now, she could hear the departed weeping within the confines of the Void; she could feel their pain, as cutting and as clear as though it were her own. Maybe it was. Maybe it was her guilt and soiled conscience that plagued her so. Maybe it was her own uncertainty that drove her to the bottle and begged for another sip, and another, whispering of sweet promises to forget. But no matter how much liquor she drained, all she was left with was a burning in her gut and a ringing in her ears. And of course, the insatiable huger for more.
That's what this was all about: power. If she had any hopes at all of catching her wayward husband, she would have to do whatever it took to ensure that her powers were equal to his own. Otherwise, he could continue to give her slip, forever. The universe was too broad, too dangerous, to search every corner without a little extra backup.
Which is exactly what brought the pair of Lady and her Apprentice to this particular clearing; a wide swatch of land on the far outer reaches of the marsh lands, where the earth was muddy and thick, and many a sorcerer or witch came to practice their craft in the sweet solitude of nature. That was their ultimate goal. To catch some poor unsuspecting soul and absorb their power for their own. It was a dirty, sneaky tactic, one that--on a normal day--would not sit well with either of them. But drastic times call for drastic measures, and Calista was prepared to reap the consequences of a guilty conscience if helped her in the end.
Skirting around the perimeter of the clearing, they tucked themselves away in the foliage, laying in wait for whatever--or whoever--came their way.
"Just making sure you don't singe your fur this time, Miss."
The sucking of teeth followed by a depreciative tutting quirked the feline's mouth into a scowl.
"Mrs." She was quick to correct, dropping a handful of bramble into the seething pot before her. The concoction bubbled and foamed at the surface, tendrils of smoke reaching forth like the pleading hands of victims cast overboard into the sea.
"Yes, yes, of course. The dutiful wife, plunging herself into the depths of Hell all for the sake of her dearly betrothed. Lord, how could I forget?"
"Your attitude is wearing as thin as your humor, Malachai. Now shut your trap and let me concentrate."
"Come ooon, Cal, this is boring! Your stupid tracking spells never work anyway, let's go out and catch us a tasty treat!"
"I said, shut, UP!" A thunderous clap as she threw her hands down in exasperation, palms slapping against the floorboards with enough force to splinter them at the seams. A single plank of wood uprooted from its place and slung upwards like a catapult, one corner just barely nicking the cauldron's edge and causing the entire potion to slosh and sway.
"No, no, no no NO!" Calista all but threw herself forward, fingers splayed like nets to try and catch the pot before it inevitably teetered over and spilled its contents across the floor. "FUCK!" Clasping the now empty container in both hands, she lifted it above her head and hurled it in no particular direction. But the clang of dented metal did little to soothe her, and thus she turned her enraged expression upon her counterpart.
"H-hey now." Palms raised in a defensive gesture, protecting his face from any wayward strikes she may deliver. "What are the chances that's the one that would have worked, huh? You've already tried every combination under the sun. You've said it yourself, the guy's too good."
"Which is more than I can say about you!" She screeched, lurching forward to pummel the man around his shoulders with iron tight fists. "You are an absolute nuisance! Why do I even bother with you?!"
"Hey, you asked for my help! OW! You think just anyone can waltz right through the planes of life and death like I can? You need me!"
A bold claim coming from someone who was currently getting the tar beat out of him, but nevertheless, he was right. She did need his help. Easy as it was for her to traverse between realms, it was even easier to lose herself in the comfort and simplicity of death. To just let it all go--her family, her quest to reunite them, that aching desire that plagued her every waking moment--it would be so easy to just let it all slip away to the Void. The place was intoxicating, and she could be lost forever to its clutches. But that wasn't the endgame here. She had only one goal, one motivation that drove her repeatedly to the brink of that sweet relief: to find him. It was the only thought that kept her tethered to reality. Yes, all to find him.
"Cal--"
"Enough, Malachai." Ceasing her flailing limbs, the feline gave him a decisive shove before stepping away, already all too familiar with the words he would speak. And she didn't want to hear them.
"Cal. He doesn't want to be found."
"I told you, keep out of my head."
"Why do you do this to yourself? Torture yourself day and night, for a man who abandoned you? Why do you even care?"
"Because I need to know how." Her arms crossed with a huff, embracing herself snugly around her core to keep from spilling her guts completely. "I need to hear it, from his own lips: how he could just fucking walk away. No warning, no goodbye. How can you just do that to someone you love?! No," she raised a hand to silence him before he could even take a breath to answer. "Enough talking. Gather your things. We're going out."
"Out?"
"You're right. The tracking doesn't work. So, let's go get that tasty treat, hm?"
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~
The hunt was the highlight of her day. It always was. She was unnaturally skilled in the craft of murder, and put in her element, there wasn't a creature on earth that could escape her predatory clutches. None save for that blasted husband of hers. But with Malachai at her side, even that was bound to change. They were racking up power in double time. Not since Lord Delxcrox himself had Calista found herself paired with such a malicious fiend in the field. For all of his childlike whimsies and generally appealing demeanor, Cal had to admit, the Spiritwalker had some serious game. And his preternatural ability to channel energies of the deceased right into her vessel without the need for lengthy ritual was convenient, to say the least. Even now, she could hear the departed weeping within the confines of the Void; she could feel their pain, as cutting and as clear as though it were her own. Maybe it was. Maybe it was her guilt and soiled conscience that plagued her so. Maybe it was her own uncertainty that drove her to the bottle and begged for another sip, and another, whispering of sweet promises to forget. But no matter how much liquor she drained, all she was left with was a burning in her gut and a ringing in her ears. And of course, the insatiable huger for more.
That's what this was all about: power. If she had any hopes at all of catching her wayward husband, she would have to do whatever it took to ensure that her powers were equal to his own. Otherwise, he could continue to give her slip, forever. The universe was too broad, too dangerous, to search every corner without a little extra backup.
Which is exactly what brought the pair of Lady and her Apprentice to this particular clearing; a wide swatch of land on the far outer reaches of the marsh lands, where the earth was muddy and thick, and many a sorcerer or witch came to practice their craft in the sweet solitude of nature. That was their ultimate goal. To catch some poor unsuspecting soul and absorb their power for their own. It was a dirty, sneaky tactic, one that--on a normal day--would not sit well with either of them. But drastic times call for drastic measures, and Calista was prepared to reap the consequences of a guilty conscience if helped her in the end.
Skirting around the perimeter of the clearing, they tucked themselves away in the foliage, laying in wait for whatever--or whoever--came their way.
