04-19-2018, 09:21 PM
Quote:Age: 474 years
The ornate oaken doors swerved open, revealing the large hall. Sandstone pillars supported the arched roof, with rows of guards acting like a wall joining them together. Viola took a deep breath and stepped forward onto the velvet red carpet. It had been smoothed down and was either well maintained or placed there just before her arrival. While the poorly tiled floor was sandy, the path provided for her was pristine.
It was a better welcome than she had expected.
"Ambassador," a brash voice with a notable tone of nobility called out to her. The speaker was tanned, but his facial features signified he clearly didn't come from the same land as his men. His chin was pointed, and bushy black eyebrows sat almost horizontal on his unblemished face, the edges of which were slightly thicker leading to them looking like a shallow upsidedown trough. The man's other features were sleek and refined, with slender toned arms and a pair of small ears plastered close to his skull. Two chains jangled, adding weight to his words in conjunction with the large jewelled golden crown on his head.
Cold black steel connected each of his hands to the neck of a kneeling, barely-clothed, woman on either side. Notable red lashings were visible on their arms and centre chest, with one sporting a black eye that looked to be covered up with makeup. While their eyes wavered, both were silent, backs straight, and heads held high.
Their king shifted, the irregular swaying of the swinging chains threatening to disrupt their pose. He leaned forward on his golden throne, hooking one of the chains onto the armrest so that he could lay his chin upon his palm. He was clean-shaven, yet gently pinched his lower cheeks none the less, sliding his pointed fingers over the smooth skin. His nails were long, yet they never quite touched his face.
"I suppose, you have come to negotiate terms of surrender," he scoffed.
Viola continued to walk forward, her hard shoes tapping softly on the carpet. Dull eyes and a blank face. Two long tails of hair swung back and forth beside her, like pendulums. They resonated weakly with her pace, the tips curling up and swirling more chaotically.
"And who do they send to do it? A child. They sent a little girl - not even of nobility - to talk to me. I have half a mind to send her head back to... what do you call yourselves now? The Alliance? Yes... I think sending them your head in a nice wooden box would make quite the gift." He straightened his back, twirling his wrist.
Staring blankly, Viola stopped. Two guards crossed their primitive spears in front of her chest, keeping her a fair distance away from their king. Far enough to strike down a grown man with a sword before he could reach their ruler.
The moment the cloth-covered wooden staffs brushed together, the king threw back his head with such vigour that is seemed impossible that his crown would stay on his head. Hearty laughter escaped his lips. Viola caught a brief glimpse of his body flinching, whereby the chains were yanked shortly after. Steadily, both the guards and his slaves chuckled nervously.
"Ah ha ha... Where are my manners? It would be awfully rude to do such a thing without at least hearing you out first." His wrists twisted, inciting silence. "Perhaps," he curled a hand towards Viola, "you have something to offer?"
"Peace." Viola's lips parted clearly, although her near-mute voice was almost lost in the open space. The echoes of the ruler's almost masked her own.
"Oh? But I was rather enjoying this little war between us. How are the folks at Vassily, by the way? I hear your rulers hold the claim for those lands now. I'm sure you'd be delighted to know that Dragon's Point has a very diligent workforce. They just needed a little persuading..." He clicked his fingers. "Perhaps, little girl, you might be able to persuade me. I'd hope you're not dumb and mute."
She said nothing, holding his gaze despite the harshness. It almost felt as if his blood-red were boiling her skin. Fitting for the desert king. A stained window sat behind him, focusing the sun towards her weak flesh. She had magical charms to prevent burns from the sun, but that did nothing to protect her from the heat.
"Let me give you a little hint," he spoke condescendingly. "I have an army." His men stomped the butts of their spears onto the floor, kicking up some wisps of dust. "I have power." He curled his wrist, small scarlet flames swirling around his fingertips. "I have wealth. But-"
Weak. He was weak. Barely an inkling of mana sat beneath the quasi-mage's skin. Perhaps, he might have been stronger than many trained sorcerers. Proficient. Skilled. But even he couldn't touch her. Viola released the breath she'd forgotten her lungs were holding, allowing her own magic to once again flow naturally beneath her veins.
"-there are always places in my comp-" He hesitated, eyes widening. Intense shudders coursed through his bones. Fear.
With barely a moment's thought, Viola shattered his skull.