2017-03-30 Conversations of Darkness

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  • Log: Conversations of Darkness
  • Cast: Agatha Pyrelight, Thessaly
  • Where: Dragonship Destiny Base CAmp
  • Date: March 30th, 2017
  • Summary: The Pyre Witch senses an interesting 'asset' of Althena's Guard

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

Althena's Guard had come to Filgaia for the purpose of pursing the dread Lord of Calamity Lucia - and there had been quite an effort to track her down. Unfortunately she and her Vile band of Fiends had managed to remain elusive, slipping away at the last minute many times and generally avoiding being cornered. And thus the pursuit continued.

It was amusing to watch at a distance, at least. No one in the Guard could sense the raw malevolence that Lucia put off - at least not very easily. This was probably the reason why they had would be willing to trust local informants, and a certain... local mystic had given them a few points. Some of them just for the sake of seeing them run in circles, while others were actually useful information.

But something had peaked Agatha's interest as she had visited the camp recently - the feeling of something... familiar. And so she had returned the next night - not openly, but slipping through the cracks in their perimeter. And as she traveled silently through the camp, she came upon the tent of a particular individual.

"How interesting indeed," she states. Most of those who were sensitive to the spiritual world would not have sensed the nature of the person within, but few had the wealth of experience that Agatha possessed. And so she reaches out with one, taloned finger and draws back the flap of the tent, black eyes glimmering in the darkness as she steps inside. She says nothing yet, but for someone with as strong of powers as Thessaly, it will seem as if a chill wind had swept into her tent, despite the relatively calm night outside.

<Pose Tracker> Thessaly has posed.

Garan had been called away, though the distance is scarcely a problem; their bond is such that he can track her anywhere should she choose to leave the camp, though two years of this present arrangement has made her familiar enough with her boundaries. She dares not venture anywhere without him, and while he attends a meeting with his superiors, she remains quiet and obedient in the tent that she is in.

As Agatha peels away the flap and enters as if she owns the place, she would find the shrouded young woman at the very back, situated on a chair. Long, pale fingers tend to a deck of divination cards in front of her, violet eyes spangled with silver set to the task of setting up a reading. A lamp burns close, emanating soft, but dim light, though its golden glow can't help but be soaked up by the darkness of her clothing; elegant, feminine, tasteful. Despite her status, Garan was indulgent enough to allow her at least this piece of her old life.

She had sensed Agatha's approach before she even sets eyes on her, but one wouldn't know it by the way she studiously shuffles her deck, with hands so white that the coverings she has set on herself could suggest some sensitivity to the sun - hands that suggest that she has not had to perform any manner of hard work a day in her life.

But she does address her visitor, eventually. Those eyes lift, framed by the headscarf she wears, translucent enough to give the vague shape of fine features and raven hair bound up in a stylish coiffure somewhere at the back of her head. A single gem, a dragon's eye, rests in a circlet in the middle of her forehead, burning in the half-light.

She says nothing. Long lashes dip, head tilted in a slight cant of greeting.

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

"Well well..." the black eyed witch purrs, raising one hand and tapping on her chin with one finger. The oversized hat seems rather comical, but the dark robe and the slowly moving cloak are something that the inexperienced might not find all that amusing. Agatha steps into the tent, and looks down at the young girl for a long moment.

"I hope that you do not mind my intrusion - I was curious to see what someone like you was doing all the way out here. Both on this boring little dust ball, and here amidst those who follow that oh so pure and repressive goddess." Agatha looks about the tent for a moment - so... quaint, really.

She supposes that it was better than being a simple prison cell, at least. She had seen far too many who had fallen afoul of the goddess' followers who had been placed in gaols and cages, their physical freedom denied as completely as their spiritual. But Agatha steps forward, and then leans back, her cloak swirling behind her and forming itself into a gentle curve as it braces against the floor, forming an impromptu chair. "Do you mind if I sit? Not that you could stop me, of course, but I do enjoy asking."

<Pose Tracker> Thessaly has posed.

"You seem to be of the disposition to do as you please, regardless. But I do not mind."

That pale hand lifts to gesture to the chair across the table from her, the other setting the deck on the velvet sheet in front of her. She makes no move to touch it, but those eyes follow the other woman's movements; her eyes, the state of her dress, but nothing is as significant as the threads of power she senses, curled around her like a coccoon, tickling her supernatural senses and setting them alight. To her, she smells like ash and fire and the vague notes of boiling fat, ghosts of a dozen screams following her wake. It would be disconcerting to many, but this one does battle nightly with the terrors housed by her own psyche. It will take more than that for her to be discomfitted.

Whenever the woman sits, she rises; it is a smooth movement, the folds of her dress falling about her like intertwined shadows, braided tight to fit a lush bosom and the slender taper of her narrow waist, the flare of her hips, draping loose to pool on the floor like something liquid and abyssal. She moves like air, when she turns to the small table where fixings for tea are located; more elaborate, more complicated, certainly, than what the soldiers here are used to, but the brewing of the perfect cup is as much art as it is science. She uses a match to light the portable burner, and sets a small clay pot on top of it.

"You are the Pyre Witch." She picks up the small mesh thimble from its dispenser, fingertips dancing lightly over the assortment of tins on the small, stand-alone shelf on top of this narrow table, skimming over the labels: Chamomile, Lavender, Mint...there are many and she takes her time in choosing. "The stars have deemed it fit to notify me of a visit but I did not expect anyone so infamous."

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

"Oh foo, I always find is rather disappointing when I can't make some grand announcement as to my identity. Certainly there are some who will put on a brave front, but few can actually face a legend and remain unshaken." Agatha leans forward, her perch sliding slightly towards Thessaly almost imperceptibly.

Making tea was certainly different - this was better than her last meeting had gone of course, although there would always be time for flames, screaming, and suffering later on depending on Agatha's mood. But those half lidded black eyes seem to be hovering somewhere between amusement and boredom, and the witch draws up one leg so she can rest her elbow on it as she watches the younger girl intently.

"Unfortunately I've never found the stars to be good guides - after all, there are so many monuments to failure and hubris shining down upon us that I would prefer to look towards more assured, competent guides." A faint, throaty chuckle, and Agatha adds, "So how do you find the 'Blue Star' of legend? Less burned than I expected, but also choked with sand and dust. Neither paradise nor purgatory. Certainly not as exciting as home."

<Pose Tracker> Thessaly has posed.

"Forgive me. It is not my intent to cause offense." This said, with respect to her truncated introduction. "I cannot help but know what I know."

She waits until the water reaches just below boiling point, before she finally makes her selection; leaves as black as midnight and two drops of bergamot oil, set to steep. The pot is arranged with two cups, those slender hands picking up the tray and moving towards the table in which she holds congress with her dangerous visitor. Setting it down, she resettles on the chair; her posture is impeccable, her spine aligned with an invisible ruler in spite of its lack of a resting back.

"The stars are generous with their secrets but only to those with the right disposition. As with all things mysterious, divination requires patience, and discipline. But I suspect I do not need to tell you that...I trust you have been practicing the Art for much longer than I."

She gives the tea the time necessary for it to steep; those fingers pick up the pot again, a delicate flick of her wrist enabling her to pour it into a cup - her guest, first, before herself, the delicate scent of it rising with the steam released from the graceful spigot.

"Some would say miles of dust and sand would suggest limbo instead, the state in between. Stationary, unmoving, suspended, its fate and fortunes at a balance, waiting for the necessary shifts to tilt it to one end or another. I am not so arrogant as to profess any learned opinions of the Blue Star, but that is what it seems. This long, protracted awakening from a deep sleep."

She picks up her cup, cradling it between her fingers. "You are among the last things I expected here. Was your journey here a deliberate one?"

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

Agatha reaches out and accepts the tea cup, holding it lightly in one hand for a moment as she listens to this young girl's commentary upon the world. How interesting that she would see hope here - especially when Agatha saw so much of the opposite. "Ah, but awakening and laying down to that final rest can be so similar, can they not? After all, one can always sink into oblivious with so little effort."

The witch sips the tea - she isn't terribly concerned about poison or anything similar. She had cast off the need to even eat in the conventional sense many years before. "An interesting choice of an art, however... divination is so easily confused, and I prefer to make my own fate, rather than letting some other power decide it for me."

Agatha sets the tea cup aside, part of her cloak curling around and wrapping around the handle and saucer to keep it from falling to the ground. She gazes as Thessaly for a long moment, and considers how to answer. Well, it doesn't hurt to be truthful with a potential ally. "You mean 'was I brought here by accident', like the Lord of Calamity, the Shepherd, the Dragonship Destiny, and so many others? Hmmmm." She looks off to the side for a moment, and then smirks .

"Would it distress you to hear that I took am here out of duty, as opposed to the desire to simply cause mischief?"

<Pose Tracker> Thessaly has posed.

There is no poison in the cup; nothing but pure, perfectly brewed, excellently prepared tea.

The young woman nurses her cup as she quietly listens; she expresses her opinion freely, when asked, odd enough for someone as shackled as she is, but Garan, at least, allows her that though she has been instructed to temper this in front of people they don't know. Still, the surprise she senses in the other woman earns little save for the slight furrowing of her brows upwards. "They are two disparate states, yes. Perhaps they would appear similar, but in the end, as with all things, it is all a matter of interpretation."

She takes another careful sip of her hot tea, savoring the taste. "I like to listen," she tells her. "I have been inured into becoming an avid consumer of information, enough at the very least to be experienced enough to separate the wheat from the chaff if necessary. There is such a things as too much, but I suppose one cannot be an effective chamberlain if she cannot multitask."

The last revelation causes those eyes to lid contemplatively; the rest of her face so hidden, it is hard to gauge the contents of the pale expression that lurks underneath. "Distressed, no, but that is certainly surprising." Her voice, while soft and quiet, carries; soothing like velvet, the gentlest breaths shaped into syllables and given lingering life. "I trust that is something that you have not divulged to many that you have met, if you have met many." She wonders whether Agatha has managed to hold any significant conversations since her arrival; biases are what they are, and the woman wears her nature openly and without hesitation.

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

"Well, there is a time and a place for everything, is there not young one?" Agatha asks, looking at those cloth shrouded eyes. "You more than most should be aware of that - there is a time to endure, and a time to break loose and do what you must."

Oh that was something Agatha was quite well aware of. But in this case... she is here for pleasure, more than business. "Really though, this little side trip has little to do with my task here - I am simply indulging my curiosity. Whetting my appetite for knowledge, for it is so seldom that you come upon something new and unique."

The witch leans closer, although the fact that she could actually get closer from her position is only possible by the fact that she is drifting about the room as if she did not particularly give a damn regarding the laws that hold things attached to the planet.

"I wanted to know how one of us came to be under the dominion of such stodgy and unamusing folks such as these Guardsmen and women. I had wondered if you were bound by chain and spell, restrained by wood and steel, a wild beast to be unleashed upon their foes.

"But alas, instead I find silk and perfume. Disappointing, for a beast I could merely cut loose and allow to run wild. But also o~ quite fascinating o~"

<Pose Tracker> Thessaly has posed.

In many ways, that aspect of her life has not changed; being new and unique may very well be a compliment, but like most good ones, it is a double-edged blade. She knows very well that such qualities can turn someone into a target. In spite of her youth, considering what she has suffered and who she had been raised by, she is no fool. Still, she does not address it and simply takes a quiet sip of her tea.

But there is the rub; Agatha asks the question most people have wondered, in passing - how one such as her had come to the service of the Church, and why she brings such an ominous air for all of her gentleness. For a moment, she does nothing but watch those eyes as they stare down at her, the Pyre Witch and the miasma of destruction that she carries, as certain and solid around her as her clothes. For a while, there is nothing but silence, the single lamp within the tent catching the microscopic galaxies marring the otherwise deep violet of her irises, like stars on an alien sky.

"I am loath to disappoint anyone," she says at last. "But a mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I have decided to keep my own. I am not so learned in the Art, not yet, but I do what I can. There are many things I do not understand, but this is a condition I intend to rectify, and I do not think I would be able to do so, should I elect to run wild."

She has spent most of her life unable to see the world and understand its horrors and wonders. Now that she has a chance, she does not intend to squander it. Everything about it fascinates her; the air, the sand, its lost technology and human lives, interactions that flit between one person to another in lightning-quick transactions in which the subtlest and most telling nuances are lost. People, especially, never fail to terrify her...and fascinate her.

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

"Oh that's a load of hogwash and we both know it," Agatha counters, although she actually sounds delighted by the turn things have taken. A Hellion could be many things, of course - often times the loss of control and transformation into a mindless beast was inevitable for a time, but it did not always happen. Nor was it a permanent occurance...

"Certainly the goddess' boot licks try and portray our kind as nothing more than mindless monsters - when they even care to acknowledge that we exist at all. But breaking free of the bonds that domineering goddess places upon our minds and souls does not mean the loss of reason." The black eyes laugh silently, as if Agatha were taking great pleasure in hearing the justifications of another Hellion who desperately fought against her nature.

"No, we become *free*. Not only of that which binds us, but of mortality itself. Mmmm, but often times once the yolk is removed, the collar slipped from the neck, the beast will desire its return, for it fears the lack of such a comfortable burden." The witch smiles, and reaches over to lightly brush Thessaly's cloth covered cheek with the back of one finger. "You cannot tell me that you did not enjoy breaking free of the constraints put upon you - for one does not make the transformation for petty reasons. Casual anger or fear does not give birth to our kind. It saddens me to see you flee from this gift."

<Pose Tracker> Thessaly has posed.

Indeed, they both know it.

But some part of it is true and she is hesitant, with good reason, to divulge any more. The cup lifts to her lips, then is set aside in favor of looking at Agatha directly in the eye. With her amusement so plain on her features, Thessaly's shrouded own remains placid even underneath the veils that hide her face from view. In the depths of those visible eyes, however, there is no visible offense. Empathy is not lost on her, and were their situations reversed, she would understand Agatha's fascination and confusion. Why, indeed, choose a life of servitude?

She wouldn't exactly call it a choice, but she knows what the Pyre Witch is implying, also. She has more than enough power to break free, if she so chose.

"I think you can discern, being an astute creature that you are, that I am presently unable to flee much of anything," she tells her simply. "I understand that there are a few things that are puzzling about my situation, but I have my own reasons for enduring it....for now."

For now.

"But all of us have our secrets. I would like to keep mine just a little bit longer." Hands folded against one another, she rises from her chair, and gives the Pyre Witch a slight curtsey.

"They are returning," she says, as a warning as well as a bid goodbye. "I trust, however, that this will not be the last time you and I will encounter one another. Perhaps I shall witness you perform your duty while you are here."

<Pose Tracker> Agatha Pyrelight has posed.

For a moment Agatha considers giving those approach *quite* a welcome... but no, that would spoil the game before it had really come into play, wouldn't it? Instead she smiles, and places one hand against her chest and offers a polite inclination of her head. "Hmmm. I look forward to seeing what develops, my dear. I think that this will be quite the worthy side project."

A flash of yellow, set against the jet black of her eyes, and Agatha steps backwards to the flap of the tent. "The only problem with holding the leash to a terrible monster is that there is always a chance that it will turn and eat you. Fu fu fu. I wonder just how bold your handler is...?"

A moment later Agatha... doesn't quite step through the tent, but it feels like the lights inside Thessaly's small personal domain dim to near blackness. And in that moment of darkness, the Pyre Witch is gone - vanished into the wild lands beyond the camp.

For now at least.