Karma [Claire/Roland/NPC/Open]

[Claire]

In the darkness, Claire could see that man with dark hair dressed in black once more. He still was masked, but the ghostly blue of his eyes were still piercing through the shadows of the mask. She felt so cold- she wasn’t dressed properly for the snow she was lying in. The man in black rushed to her, touching her face with hands that were cold despite the gloves he wore.

You have lived through this before, my love.


She couldn’t speak again and she tried to lift her hand to touch his face. It wouldn’t go far, though. Something cold was holding her down. The man in black stroked her hair back, his expression unreadable through the mask.

I would burn the world for you. Be strong- I will always come for you. You hold me close to your heart, always.


His hand dipped down to her chest, his fingers touching something hanging around her neck. At first she thought it was the crystal, but it was something different- a vial, swirling with the same sparkling colors of the crystal. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it- it pulsed with life like the universe was trapped within it. Claire looked back to the man and his gloved fingers brushed against her cheek. He leaned in and she closed her eyes, but she felt nothing. She felt a pull and suddenly she was just cold, terribly alone in the blackness.

Then she woke up.

Claire felt sore. At first everything was fuzzy around the edges and pain prickled against her arms, face, and legs. Then she felt something cold and heavy around her ankles and wrists. She blinked, lifting her head a little, blinking the world into focus. The first thing she could see was stone. Stone and bars.

Claire shifted, looking down to see manacles encircling her wrists and ankles, locked tightly with cold metal. She jolted, the chains clinking as she did so. Something felt missing and her hands clutched up to her neck, feeling for the leather and crystal that she had become so accustomed to hanging around her neck.

“No-” It was gone! It couldn’t be gone! Claire looked around the cell and patted over her body and hair, looking for it. She tugged against the chains attached to the wall, harder and harder, trying to get free. It was so cold here- cold and dirty and quiet and her talisman was gone. The only link to her goddess was gone! A yell and then a scream of rage and fear and frustration escaped her as she tried to pull the chains from the wall, then tried to force them off her wrists. She looked back to the bars, screaming again.

< “BASTARDS! Let me go! I did nothing wrong!” > she corrected her language, still struggling and screaming towards the bars. “COWARDS! Your King is a monster! I’m not guilty of anything!”

[Roland]

"You are probably right." Calls a voice from a nearby desk that Claire might not have noticed. Behind it was the face of someone who at this point was becoming increasingly familiar to Claire. Roland sat behind the desk with a large stack of documents and a lantern light scribbling away on various forms of national import, in maybe ways his presence and what was was doing was a greater oddity that the giant stone lion that sat beside the desk, moving slightly every now and again.

Roland's eyes were dim luminescent beads in deep set sockets and dim light of the lantern only served to make him seem even more sickly that he usually did, but it wouldn't take much for a person to realize that the man was in a wretched state.

He looks up form the document he is working on as stares at her for a few moments with eyes colder than the peak of any mountain. "That being said, he is the ruler of a country, of course he is, people don't gather around men or women." He says and returns to writing. "But then again, if he had been a normal man he'd be dead right now and you'd be a murderer instead of an unsuccessful assassin so I don't see how that makes you much better." He says without really thinking, there was no need to try and talk to her or calm her, the woman was a criminal and she'd tried to kill a man she was not going to get off of this lightly.

[Breton Fair'los]

Footsteps echo like drumbeats down the corridor, steady, even, and firm. A profound silence hangs about the stone, as though even the presence of sound cannot shake it from the chamber. The light of the torches wavers slightly, announcing the approach of the source of the sound. A man clad in blue, trimmed with gold filigree, became visible at the end of the corridor, and approached the cell holding Claire, never changing pace. As he arrives at the cell, he turns in a somewhat awkward, exaggerated motion, and stares directly at Claire, chained to the wall. "How long has she been awake?" It was obviously directed at the man examining the documents, but his gaze remained focused on the prisoner. "Noku is going to be awake in a few short hours, and when he regains consciousness, he is going to want an explanation for the events of this evening."

He stepped forward, nearly touching the bars, and scrutinized Claire with a somewhat inquisitive scowl. He held himself upright, with confidence. "You, woman, you are very lucky that His Majesty has such diligent servants, or the chambermaid would have brought you out in one of these." He picked up a pail next to the cell with some fetid water in it, and threw it onto Claire. "Though, you are quite unlucky to have elicited my service to his aid this night. My name is Breton, and I am Royal Aide to the service of the Noru bloodline. And I take my position very seriously" At this, he raised his hand and pointed at Claire, in an accusing fashion, his eyes startlingly visible in the moderate light, like emeralds through a flame. "You are going to tell me the truth to everything I ask you. You will do this either because you choose to, or because I make you; your choice. For your sake, though, I hope you divulge in full before we put you in The Pin. You will find that fully persuasive, I think, but rest assured it is only the welcome mat in this abominable place. IF, by some miracle, you leave with every part you brought in, it will likely be to whatever end His Majesty Noku has decided to amuse himself with once he realizes you attacked him in his own bedchamber, WHICH you destroyed, for...now then, what reason did you say it was?" He turned his head, leading with his ear, and leaned forward, as though waiting for a faint or far-off reply. He said it with contempt. He was obviously angered, but seemed elated, after a fashion, as though eager.

[Claire]

Claire’s head shot up when she heard Roland’s voice, falling silent at once. She looked around, finally spying him nearly out of sight in the dark, behind a desk. He spoke of her being an unsuccessful assassin and she frowned deeply, looking down at her attire. She was very, very cold wearing this. Not the ideal attire for one to wear while attempting to assassinate the king, unless he thought she was a whore as well. But it was still apparent how little Roland understood of her particular situation.

“Do you know what we do to rapists in my country?” Claire lifted her head, a smile finally coming over her face. There was no joy in it, however. She tilted her head as she spoke, hair falling over her face.

“The lucky ones have all of their hair cut off and are castrated. Others are castrated and thrown into the sea.” she rolled her shoulders back, leaning forward. “What your so-called King attempted to do to me is disgusting. I am not some present. I’m not some whore either. What sort of country do you serve that allows a woman to be kidnapped and prostituted to your ruler? And then you punish the woman? How many times has this happened?”

Claire tugged sharply at the bonds around her wrists, testing their strength again. She opened her mouth to continue her speech but stopped when she heard footsteps, pushing herself back into the darkness against the cold wall. Then the man made himself visible, his eyes bright even in the darkness. She scowled up at him- this man must be some sort of mage.

Breton. Well. This man would have no intention of helping her. They didn’t want to hear the truth. The contempt in his voice was filling her with more anger than fear.

“I. Was. Drugged.” Claire spat the words across the chamber, her voice filled with more bile and contempt than that man could muster. “I was drugged and left at the mercy of your so-called King in his chambers. He threatened me and I defended myself.” She thought back to that sword, being dragged from behind that massive bed and shoved into the floor. If she hadn’t acted, she would have been worse than dead. That she was sure of.

[Roland]

Roland looks up as Breton appears, having ignored Claire's shouts to this point, and scowls. "I don't think she knows much, but here's the report on what most likely happened." Roland tells the man with a businesslike demeanor, Roland did not like Breton anymore than he liked any of the other nobles, and the constant aura of divine magic around the man was only more disconcerting, Roland had often found himself wondering if the man Saden or Zepon killing time by fucking up mortal affairs.

The report that Roland handed over detailed that the most likely course of events was that due to Claire being paired with the king in the holiday event that Vennessa had decided to "present her to Noku" there was a detailed list of other cases where this had happened as support and a scribes copy of the pairings to show that she and the king were indeed listed together. The report went on further to explain that it was most likely that the king had said something that Claire, being foreign and having a weak grasp on the language misunderstood. She took it as a rape threat and smashed a bottle over his head, some of the shards were in a satchel with the report. After realizing her situation she tried to flee and Roland detailed her capture.

"That's the best rendition of events I can gather. It is possible his highness actually tried something of course, but odds are better she overreacted. The story also more or less fits with her rendition with the obvious understanding of she does not know enough about the country to accept that it was Vennessa playing a prank as opposed to some royal spy kidnapping her." Roland explains, his eyes deep set and clearly tired. "That all being said, I still imagine her sentence is death, but I don't think she needs to be tortured. Mostly she'd just overly emotional and not very bright."

Roland sits back down rubbing his eyes. When was the last time I slept? He found himself wondering before returning to the present and pawing for crumbs form a plate he'd licked clean hours before.

The stone lion was in the basement as well and it cocked it's head slightly at the man. The man, if he had the senses would be able to dimly feel Caster's power from the beast.

[Breton Fair'los]

Breton looks over the report, systematically and routinely, glancing back to Roland as his curiosity as to its contents is satisfied. "How unfortunate." The remark was dry and without enthusiasm. Looking back to Claire, he raises his voice: "So you think the King tried to rape you? That this is some strange fetish in our parts we use to amuse ourselves?" As he spoke, a smile broadened on his face, his brow remaining stern and attentive. "My Lord Noku has hundreds of concubines that would make you at your most voluptuous moment seem plain. And besides, you had the chance to see a demonstration of our Lord's strength; if he had wanted, he could have popped your skull like a grape." At this, Breton made an exaggerated expression and raised his brow, while mouthing 'pop!' a clear overtone of amusement accenting his delivery. Breton was toying with this woman. He was not fully convinced by the content of Roland's report, but the citation in lieu of the Festival had some weight, and the weapon in question left something to be desired of an assassin. Breaking glass is hardly subtle, after all. However, it was Breton's nature as well as his position not to rule out the sinister before it had been pursued.

"And wouldn't that have been a riot!" Breton grinned. Becoming serious once more, he advanced to the bars, as before, and stared down at Claire. A thought took shape in his mind; he would use this woman to his advantage.

(to himself) "Ha!" and then, aloud, "It seems our good friend Roland here prefers an execution with all the appendages intact. We'll see what Lord Noku thinks when he wakes up from his unexpected nap." Breton leans slightly forward and up on his toes. "The drug's effects wear off in stages, so he's bound to be....unpredictable....for a few, eh, hours perhaps?" He cocks his head and raises his brow at this. Resting back to his soles, he turns and locks eyes with Roland. "I will go and see whether our Majesty can be convinced to remain calm until he becomes himself again." It was not Breton's nature to abase the faithful. He could sense Roland's unease, and his fatigue was obvious. Breton turned to face down the corridor, still looking at Roland. "I will send a replacement guard for you presently, soldier." He lifts the report, in acknowledgement. "You've done fine work this evening." With that, Breton strides down the hall, evenly, and without haste.


As the echoes of his footsteps betrayed his ascent of the spiral stairwell, Breton's voice could be heard, indistinct through stone and wood, barking orders to his subordinates. A rattling of armor and the tread of heavy boots followed thereafter, and presently, the large door at the top of the stairwell was heard flung open once more, and the clamour began descending the stairwell. It seemed as though a great number of persons was descending, all at once, and the echo increased until it rose to just below a vibration in the air. The heavy iron door cutting the cells off from the stairwell added the remainder, and the sound of all the footsteps alongside the creaking hinges was tangible on the skin and in the sinuses. The steps grew louder, and a man wielding a shortstaff, his armor a deep red, the Noru crest emblazoned on his cuirass, came into view. He was accompanied by four others with no armor, wearing what appeared to be an official garment, gold trim contrasting a forest green. These men were carrying a large number of items: tape measures, clipboards, wrenches, stethoscope, ropes, and indiscernible others of nondescript function, all of which they carried in on a thick wooden plank punctuated by nickel-size holes a few inches apart and evenly spaced. The man in armor addressed Roland: "You are relieved of your post, soldier. Someone must think well of you, you're getting some personal time as well, courtesy of the Court. Is the prisoner secure?" Meanwhile, the four men had set the plank on the dungeon floor, and were busying themselves with various documents and donning equipment of all sorts. This lasted only a brief while, and presently, the troupe was standing at attention, two holding clipboards and signing documents, and the others inspecting a few odd looking devices.