Rebuilding the Past

[Jen]

A drenched and nearly frantic Sebilla burst into the campsite held by her grandmother and mother. She spoke of something ridiculous and yet, glorious. Isabella raised her head, slightly, and sniffed the air. If she couldn't exactly smell Vylrath's scent, she could smell his blood. And by the gods they were going to have to wash Barclay if he was intended to stay with their group. She assumed, of course, that Vylrath hadn't killed and eaten him at this point -- and that was the reason he smelled so unwashed.

"I see." It was all she said as she picked herself up, instructed her raven haired granddaughter to stay with her mother -- and walked slowly to where Barclay and Vylrath were napping. She didn't need to sleep much anymore, and she very well gathered it was because it was night when Vylrath changed her. Caela needed to sleep as did Vylrath, but not her. Her whole body was something out of legend and myth -- a beautiful siren come to lure innocent men to their death's. A regular pain in the ass, she believed it to be. Sure, she'd been pretty when she was human -- but now she was so beautiful as to be painful and equally as alluring. She was, in fact, the perfect trap.

Isabella took one look at the lake in fire and nodded. A cleansing, it needed to happen. So much had gone on in this city that the fire would cleanse the waters and thus the rock and glass beneath. Glass. Isabella smiled, a gesture fit to tear the heart out of any man interested in women. She was, for now, Vylrath's "woman" and would be likely until she bore another child of pure Vuri blood. She had no qualms with her ex husband's infatuation and love of Kahlan. She found it quite healthy, actually. Kahlan was the balance to Vylrath's precarious insanity.

"Vylrath. I have some news from the children. Sebilla just offered it." She didn't care if he was sleeping or not. Barclay didn't bother her in the least either, in fact she would smile briefly at him -- a show of brilliance that wouldn't last as her peculiar turquoise eyes fell on her ex husband.

"Vylrath. Vylrath, wake up! There is glass at the bottom of the lake. I have a plan for it." Her eyes moved quiety back to Barclay. If the fire on the lake was any indication, she had plenty of work for Barclay ahead.

[Vylrath]

Vylrath woke up and smiled at his wife for the first time. “Did you see what I made? Isn’t it beautiful! No one will bother us now! It’s quite safe to swim in…”

Shit. Another plan? He’d rather piss in the lake!

“What is it now? Why the hell is there glass in the lake?” He wiggled an eyebrow, the questions filling his mind with an abundance of annoyance.

It would seem that he was more into his lake and his new friend, then her newfound plans to fix up the place. “Did you see his odd food?! They are called marsh-meh-lows…did I say that correctly, Barclay? You have to have one!” He grabbed one of the fluffy delicacies and proceeded to cook one over the fire, as Barclay had instructed him, but he caught his sleeve instead and proceeded to put it out. It was a very difficult thing to cook one just in the right spot- especially for an eccentric man like Vylrath.

“Shit! My good coat! Alright…tell me your plan…” He sighed, disappointed that he couldn’t just enjoy the evening.

[littlebean]

Barclay took one final swig of his drink before putting it aside, having just realized that he'd finished half the bottle in such a short amount of time. "Mhm." He nodded at Vylrath, and slowly began to stumble with his food, picking up the bags of nuts and marshmellows with poor co-ordination, it seemed the damned things had suddenly become rather slippery.

"Ya let's sleep." He agreed with Vylrath that they should rest (he certainly felt the need to) but that was about the only thing he agreed with. He didn't like the idea of a stranger approaching him, making sketchy offers and giving him a deadline on his decision, especially since he wasn't sure if the man he had only met today was being truthful or not. If he was in better condition, he wouild have protested but instead sauntered off to his destroyed tent, and simply burried himself beneath the remnants, making himself cozy in a pile of blankets, not even thinking to ask Vylrath if he wanted any.

As his shit luck would have it, his sleep was interrupted as soon as he got himself comfortable. Before he even opened his eyes he heard a woman's voice ranting and raving about some plan she had.

"What the fuck..." Mumbling a few coherent sentences and a bit of gibberish, slowly he opened his eyes, t a beautiful woman (one of the many that travelled with Vylrath) smiling at him. This caught his attention enough for him to sit upright, blinded by the destroyed and loose tent canvas covering his face. There was a conversation going on, something about glass marshmellows.

"Nn? What is it?"


(sorry it's so shit)

[Jen]

Isabella stood there for a moment, her arms crossed under her breasts, and watched the menfolk at their finest. She smirked a little -- what did the world really need men for? She'd have to ask some god, some where, why they'd decided to make men necessary for procreation.

"Yes, I have plans, now if you would come with me..." Isabella grabbed Vylrath's flaming arm and dragged him to the water's edge. She was strong, very strong, and Vylrath might find it rather annoying or attractive -- with him one never could be sure. She pushed him further into the water in hopes of dousing his arm and to get his attention. "I really don't know what to think about your mellows...or marshes. What are those those things supposed to be anyway?" Bella frowned as she watched the flaming ball of white goo on a stick.

"If you would be careful, it gets deep rather quickly..." Isabella explained as she waded into the water until her hips were wet. "Its a few yards out." Bella pointed with her hand, as if to show Vylrath the general direction, but with no intention of getting any closer to their quarry. She wasn't about to let Barclay, or Vylrath for that matter, make lewd comments about her wet clothing. It was bad enough that she'd walk out of the water half soaked with her tan pants sticking to her skin.

"Vylrath, I have plans for this glass. If we can harness your power specifically, and from the looks of it Barclay's abilities as well, we might be able to build a foundation of glass over the water. It could be easily defended and if we were to make floating gardens, why we could be close to self sufficient!" She gestured wildly for a moment before walking back out of the water, ignoring both Barclay and Vylrath for the moment as she thought of all sorts of grand plans that could occur. Glass! Who would have thought such a resource could be at their disposal. And a temple of glass for Vylrath. The gods alone knew what their blood and power would do to the natural resource, but Bella herself was rather intrigued.

"We'll start tomorrow. We can try to excavate some of the glass from the lake along the edges to figure out the properties of the glass in question. There is no telling what that Yuurei invasion and subsequent eradication did to the glass."

[Vylrath]

It was mid morning. The night had kept him awake with disturbing thoughts and dreams. Looking toward the lake, he moved with the water. It was his turn to take charge and figure out their next course. Barclay would have to entertain himself, while he figured out their next plan.

Stepping into the water, he felt a great surge of unnatural current going through his body. He breathed in the flame, while the ethereal substance filled him entirely. He was now a part of it. It formed around his frame like a warped capsule.

His once blue eyes were now black, but they appeared to be riddled with illumination. When he blinked, the pupils would appear opaque. His skin had changed, dramatically. It was blanched like the sand.

The water moved with a grace around the new being in the lake. He looked to where Isabella slept. He beckoned for her.

Vylrath was something greater than demonic or Vuri- though he would consider himself Vuri. This new being had become a humbled existence, understanding the dire nature of his surroundings.

Vylrath Xanathi was learning how to purify himself. He had finally gained the ability to command his new form.

[littlebean]

Barclay could have slept all day if he wanted to, which he did desperately. He did not want to wake up to work, and beresponsibilities aside from burning corpses. Recent events had left him drained of energy, the massacre and alien invasion was the most significant no doubt, but yesterday had been an equally bizarre and hard to believe experience. He'd like to blame it all on the bottle, but even Barclay remembered that all the crazy things happened before he started drinking.

Now, after an assault over some fish, a story Barclay could never believe, a giant flaming lake and half a bottle of vodka, waking up was not an option for Barclay, he didn't even want to consider it. If he could, he would just skip a day and wake up tomorrow, with his logic he figured it was a damn good idea. The sound of Vylrath waking up and heading to the lake did little to rouse him from his sleep, he continued in perfect stillness like a rock, acting the part better than most rocks would. Any disturbances were ignored and brushed off with some mumbling and cursing. Sunlight? Fuck sunlight. Birds chirping? Fuck those birds. Great surges of unnatural currents by the lake? Fuck currents.

All of them, ignored. On occasion Barclay would stir to turn in his sleep, but eventually he would wake up. "Mmmm noooo." He whined to himself, shuffling around in his blankets. He didn't want to wake up, but now was different, now he absolutely had to. This could not be brushed off or ignored, he actually rushed to the best of his ability to wake up this time, stumbling out of his tent, feet ensnared by blankets and tent canvas, causing him to stumble and trip towards a tree.

"WhaahOOMPH!" Barclay lay in the dirt for a few moments, giving himself time to recover from his fall. If he stayed a moment longer he would have fallen asleep right there on the ground, but instead he picked upself up, and facing the tree whipped out his dick for a long hard piss.

[Jen]

Bella had managed to grasp an hour or two of rest before rousing. She'd fallen into a slumber between the forest and the beach, given her current state of transition it was a perfect metaphor, though completely unintended. From her current position Bella couldn't see Vylrath without lifting up on her arms and intentionally looking for him. She knew, however, the moment he entered the lake. He beckoned for her, and she opened her eyes and rose obediently.

Somewhere during the course of time, Bella had shed her pants and loosened a button on her shirt for comfort as she slept. Her long brown hair fell in disheveled waves down her back and over her shoulders. She was sculpted like a statue and the shirt did nothing to deny that fact. The woman walked past Barclay without acknowledging his presence or his need for bodily function. She had her surreal eyes on Vylrath and stopped only at the edge of the water, her toes just touching the wet sand. The water had not affected her the way it had Vylrath -- she had bathed in it when the men were finally asleep. It was the reason she had been able to sleep at all, this water.

"Why do you call me, Vylrath? I see what you are doing." A breeze picked at Isabella's shirt, tugging at it, attempting to persuade her into the water. It was as if Vylrath himself wanted her to join him. She took a step forward until her knees were submerged in the water -- but she went no further. Her skin was the color of soft cream, inviting, alluring, a devastating trap for any mortal man. Indeed, if the man possessed no magic then he might fall under her allure -- if he were attracted to women. It was just a trait that she had acquired when Vylrath bestowed upon her the gift of the Vuri.

Before long, Isabella joined Vylrath, standing near him though not touching him. The water was cool, but not unpleasant, and it covered her body to her shoulders. She was comfortable standing there next to her ex husband and former lover. Together they had built a family, a legacy, and a country. In the end though it was her death that had come between them.

"So, what now Vylrath?"

[Vylrath]

Vylrath spoke, but his voice could not be seen by movement of his lips. It was an ethereal moment. The sound of his voice, might seem like it was directed into her mind, but it was actually echoing all around Isabella.

Já vám to ticho! Už budu rozmrzelý váš umíněný příroda!
(I command you to silence! No longer will I be vexed by your willful nature!)

Já budu v klidu, já se rozhodne náš osud.
(I will be at peace, while I decide our fate.)

Budete přemýšlet o sobě jako o matce Vuri a nic víc.
(You will think of yourself as the mother of Vuri and nothing more.)

He concentrated on her physique, focusing on her throat. With a wave of his right hand, illumination ignited around her vocal chords, giving the impression that something unnatural was occurring- it was. His powers had grown with his mood, while his patience had been broken into jaded afterthoughts.

The new speech intrigued him and welcomed his bored mind. The current of the Vuri force coursing through his veins relaxed momentarily. He could finally think, without being given a direct order.
Isabella could still move freely, but she could no longer demand anything of him. He wanted to be in control.

He studied the water, knowing that the task ahead would be an easy one. Surprisingly, Vylrath beckoned toward a forgotten son: Trydian. He would need his help.

[Iskander]

Trydian stared blankly at Vylrath, then looked down at his chest. Was his father actually gesturing at him? He looked around to be sure there was no one beside or behind him, then looked back at Vylrath. He lifted his right hand and held up his middle finger. "Fuck off, cockmonger. Just because you were stupid enough to get whipped into doing this for the bitch," he gestured to Isabella with his head, "Doesn't mean I'm going to be stupid enough to join you."

He turned to face Isabella and shook his head, "So, lemme get this right: you want to excavate some glass here? Why? We're in the middle of a fucking desert," he turned to gesture to the sand all around them. "We can use fire. You know what happens when fire meets sand? Yeah. We get glass. So, want to use your brain before having the idiot 'excavate' it? Then again, he might as well do it anyway. It'll teach him a lesson."

He shook his head again and sat himself down. He didn't intend on going into the lake, and he certainly didn't intend on helping them with some plan that he hadn't been let in on yet.

[littlebean]

A golden stream of hot piss beat again the bark of the tree, but slowly subsided to a small trickle, and then finally stopped. During the entire scene between Vylrath, his woman and the other guy, he was urinating. Finally, his bladder was empty. After tucking his dick away back into his pants he turned around to look at the lake to see that the already dramatic flaming lake was being made into more of a scene, and some harsh words were being exchanged between them.

Barclay offered the trio a confused expression. He had no idea what the Hell was happening, but some powerful magic was being tossed about. There was talk of excavating glass, talk of this talk of that, flaming lake, chanting, arguments, basically a wholelot going on, too much for Barclay. Unless he was needed for something, there didn't seem to be much of a reason for him to be there, or to even be awake.

Ignoring the events, he decided to walk back to his ruined tent and curl back up in his sheets, easily falling back asleep now that he did what he needed to do. Unless he was needed for something in particular, he wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon.

[Jen]

Bella wasn't really interested in talking to Vylrath as her mind wandered and he made patently sure she couldn't speak to him. When Trydian opened his fat little mouth, Isabella turned, her eyes glowing an eerie blue due to the Vuri power circulating through her veins. She couldn't talk to Vylrath, but she could certainly put that little shit in his place.

"You will do as your father and grandfather commands, or you will die. I don't particularly care for you calling me a bitch either, grandson. I highly doubt your mother will find your education worth its while. Words are wasted on you if you do not straighten up and act your age. If you continue to act five, then I suggest you take yourself from this lake and find your mother and sister in the clearing nearby. If you will not do as I say as your grandmother, then you will obey me as the leader of this group and the Queen of this land." Isabella, by right, was still Queen. Death had created quite a stink in her absence, and let a few things go awry -- and she was here to fix them once again. It seemed that was what Isabella's life was all about, fixing and rebuilding things.

Isabella turned back to Vylrath and watched him. She had no desire to speak to him, and likewise could not speak directly to him. Mother of the Vuri? Isabella didn't much think of herself as a mother now, despite having her only surviving offspring nearby and her grandchildren, even if one was being an ass. Her mind wandered again to the glass just a few feet away. It would make a wonderful platform for a city, one that was easily defensible if the layout was done correctly. She was almost positive that between Vylrath, herself, and Barclay they could create sheets several feet thick and suspend them with the power of the Vuri in the middle of the huge lake. She glanced around at the jungle that had started to grow, as anything did in a desert when there was water to be had. Perhaps they could utilize some of the wood for building once the platform was down and cooled.

Isabella glanced back at Vylrath and folded her arms under her breasts, patiently waiting for him to consider what he was going to do. He might have the power now, but Isabella had always held the key to ruling.

[Vylrath]

He had finally lost his grip on the situation. He saw the mouth of Isabella move, but couldn’t decipher any sound coming from those plump lips. Vylrath had finally gathered his nerves and had taken his dignity back as a man. He no longer felt like a fool at the end of his rope, or cowed to the point of embarrassment.

The transition of energy had made a full circulation in his body. He was dumbed down with its strength, but he could grasp what was going on with the others. One wasn’t even aware of the situation unfolding, one was disobedient and the other was trying to claim his right.

He had finally reached a breaking point. It wasn’t time to let all that they had worked for go into oblivion- he needed to take control so that they didn’t lose themselves. They needed to be reminded of who and what he was. When he had entered this realm, he hadn’t been an average man and now he was something greater.

With his thoughts in motion, he acknowledged his unbridled powers. Isabella would have to realize that she would have the authority, but he would always have the powers of what they were. She would always be considered a secondary Vuri in his eyes- although an important piece to their existence. He couldn’t make it without her.

He could see the power in his son and grew a sense of pride. It was apparent that Vylrath was not the talkative type, but he acknowledged what his son possessed- true demonic power. He finally recognized who he was and what he carried in his veins. One might consider the demonic race a powerful foe compared to the Vuri. There weren’t many true bloods left and his son was a rare beckon in the mix.

His normal tongue had reverted back to its dominant language. It was an odd sensation, one that rested in the peak of his psychology.

“You are the true Prince. Do not be fooled by the naysayers. They do not understand your power and influence on this world.”

It was a familiar road that Vylrath had walked before and now he could see Trydian walking the same lonely path. Others would attempt to control him and abuse his power because of his demonic influence. He would rather have an enemy in his son, then see him easily taken over by mere mortal words.

He looked toward Isabella, amused that he had not put enough influence into his power to control her voice. “I see that I did not do this justice.” Looking toward Barclay, he became even more irritated. The bastard still slept, even when all of the commotion was in fruitation.

With a closed fist, his mind focused on the man’s chest. The man would feel a pressure, unless he had some influence to deflect it, an intense surge of pain that would follow. It would be enough for Vylrath to bring the man to his feet in a breathless attempt to gain control. He would not be ignored. His eyes were alit with amusement of a different kind.

“Son. I turn command over to you. Do not let this world falter over a petty argument. Even demons have more pride than that. We are not ignorant mortals.” Vylrath spoke in a past tense. He was, of course, not a demon anymore, but thoughts still remained of when he was in that power. He dropped Barclay, should he respond, and immediately went to the wayside of his son- now he would be his shadow.

Since he had removed himself of his current command, he motioned toward Isabella with a miniscule thought: he had allowed her to speak again. The similar illumination created a halo of light around her throat- gaining her voice back for him to hear. He looked into her angry eyes, so full of emotion. Had he just put himself back in Hell? He would find out soon enough.

[Iskander]

Trydian looked between Vylrath and Isabella. His lips pulled back in a sneer at Isabella's threat, and her petty command. He was about to silence her himself when Vylrath spoke. He had never respected his father, never once, for the man had always been at the beck and call of the women around him. Vylrath played at being a Demon, but did the race a great disservice. Now, though, he showed a moment of intelligence and clarity that Trydian had not expected from him. Vylrath was handing over any claim he had on, well, anything.

Trydian's sneer pulled further back into a predatory showing of teeth that could have been a grin. He inclined his head very slightly and pulled the Chaos Sword from its sheath. He let the tip of the weapon rest on the ground and leaned against it. "I accept," he spoke to Vylrath, then turned his gaze back to Isabella, "What was once my father's is now mine. That includes you, grandmother. I will forgive your insolence and allow you to serve me and my kingdom. Now be a dear and run along to fetch mother and Sebilla. They should be here to bend knee to their new King, after all."

[littlebean]

Whether it was his bladder or other outside influences, it seemed Barclay would not get the opportunity to sleep, as if it was such a sin for him to do so. A pain in his chest caused him enough discomfort to roll around in his sleep, grunting and groaning until finally he could no longer handle it and he was painfully startled awake.

"Aah!" He yelled to himself clutching his chest, landing uncomfortably on the ground onto his bags of bread, nuts and the bottle from the night before.

[Nayt]

It was before Isabella Rivenfelde would even have a chance to respond, not even a second following Trydian Xanathi's acceptance of his father's mantle-- someone else spoke. Another voice, another figure, another existence took the limelight in an instant.

"Wait."

It was a male's voice, low, yet not a natural bass-- but commanding, nonetheless. His was a voice that could command the attention of others instantly, a voice that could sent shivers through a man's body. He'd halt the scene in an instant, dramatically shifting its direction. Where he had come from, none of them would be able to make sense of. All that was certain was that he was, in fact, there, and possibly had been there for some time-- long enough to know the situation, perhaps-- to understand the necessity of a moment's pause.

His figure moved from within the shadows-- in sight?

Vylrath would feel it.
Something behind him.
Something predatory.
An arm around his shoulders.
A face by his--
Leaning over--
Leering, hateful,
Ended, endless--

Hunched over him, like a hunter--
A seeker and his prey.

But was there something there, truly? Something behind the former demon, something ready to reap his soul, to tear from him the life he once valued so? No. There was no reaper there, there was no demon looming over his shoulder, there was no shadow of death gripping at his heart--

But the feeling would be the same.

And it was from the shadows that his figure approached, behind the rubble and ruins, the stray forms of trees and dried brush, in a blink, one might see an outline in ruins, but in yet another blink, it was elsewhere, within the brush, hiding, crouching, barely visible-- but the yellow irises remained the same, those small yellow irises with dark shadows, smaller than a normal being's-- half the size in fact! Those small yellow irises, trapped within the darkness of his schlera, permanently black.

But following the brief moment of inevitable confusion from his official introduction into their lives, he stood still, with no less than twelve feet between he and the others, more specifically Vylrath Xanathi. He covered himself mostly, with a black long sleeved shirt that gently hugged his form, black slacks, and boots that matched the theme of darkness accordingly. He looked, perhaps, to be somewhere in his early twenties, and was only two inches shy of six feet tall. And indeed, small yellow irises swam in the darkness of his eyes, darkness where white should have been-- eyes transfixed upon the former demon. Bushy black hair hung around his head with little to no intentional organization; it found its way in front of his left eye, somehow, but this meant little to him. His skin was deathly pale and tainted, as far as one might see: tainted by stitches, wrapping around his neck, wrapping around his wrists and all the joints of his hand, and even at the corners of his mouth. It looked as though he had a Glasgow smile, but one that had simply been stitched closed and fairly recently at that.

A monster, perhaps . . . but no more a monster than any single life that stood before him.

"You'll not become a shadow, Vylrath Xanathi," he declared outright as he pushed his arm forward, out, with his index finger directed to former demon. "Until I've made you a shadow."