One Last Night in Cormyr
Feb 8, 2017 9:41:20 GMT -5
Calliope, smacrasmacrasmacra, and 2 more like this
Post by freezn on Feb 8, 2017 9:41:20 GMT -5
She laid there, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the finest room she’d let herself enjoy in these past six months. The sweet smell of pine tangy in the air, the only light coming from the faint red embers of a hearth far off in another room. Sleep escaped her, driven off by insistent thoughts and worries that the night carried along so well. The messy red haired maiden that was currently using her as a pillow and chew toy all in one had slipped off into the thoughtless realm some time ago, bearing with her a childish innocence that brought a small smile to the lips of the restless enchantress. If she was sure of nothing else at this point and time she was sure of her Heather. A shining beacon of stability in an ever changing world. The irony of such thoughts did not escape the sorceress, the eternal youth at her side being of the most chaotic and troublesome sort she had ever met. Well aside from Findle. But that was another matter entirely.
Giving one last tight squeeze, Meesha fought to focus on the task at hand. She couldn’t stay here anymore. Time clicked away slowly in her head. A nagging sensation at the back of her neck just where spine meets skull, clicking away. She had put this day off long enough already. Giving the fluff of auburn hair a light kiss, the self proclaimed noblewoman slid her way out of the bed with magical ease leaving her love with minimal disruption. A muffled snap of her fingers and she was dressed in the same formal attire with which she had arrived in Cormyr, leaving a trail of black smoke to dissipate in her wake as she made for the door. Gathering up her pack and creeping outside into the hall, the enchantress did her very best not to disturb a soul at this dark hour.
Once outside a quick flick of her wrist conjures up a mirror so that she might check to make sure everything was in place. Giving a small nod of approval to the woman that stared back at her, she donned the mask of a woman she barely recognized anymore. It was a face she had practiced the first twenty four years of her life, charming, keen, proper… absent of all scars and horrors faced these last few months. Absent of any sign of the tears or blood that had been shed. Absent of the desperate pleading look one has as they scrape for coin just to afford a night at a hut that barely passed for an inn, or the twisted smirk that she couldn’t resist as her friends brought death to those before them. The face her father would recognize. A face that those in court would respect. One of their own. The only sign that she didn’t belong, carefully concealed by the chestnut strands of hair placed over the tips of her ears.
Satisfied with the woman before her, Meesha sent the mirror away with another flick of the wrist. Her spirit welling with desire, her blood exploding in ecstasy as she called forth power the power to bend Weave to her will. Focusing on home, focusing on the majestically carved statues and well trimmed shrubbery. Focusing on the bustling servants, the multitude of fanciful colored windows, the intricately detailed gate leading to the Grimm manor. The words came to her and the magic bellowed from within. The spidery words of the arcane whispering forth from her lips carrying with them the power that boiled in her blood. Snaps and sparks of emerald green energy sizzled through the hall. Before long a single muffled “pop” silenced and dispersed the vast amount of energy called forth leaving behind in its wake a dark cloud of heavy smoke that slowly slithered to fill the hall rising to climbing to meet the ceiling above.
The Sorceress that had been the source of the mystical sight was gone.
Giving one last tight squeeze, Meesha fought to focus on the task at hand. She couldn’t stay here anymore. Time clicked away slowly in her head. A nagging sensation at the back of her neck just where spine meets skull, clicking away. She had put this day off long enough already. Giving the fluff of auburn hair a light kiss, the self proclaimed noblewoman slid her way out of the bed with magical ease leaving her love with minimal disruption. A muffled snap of her fingers and she was dressed in the same formal attire with which she had arrived in Cormyr, leaving a trail of black smoke to dissipate in her wake as she made for the door. Gathering up her pack and creeping outside into the hall, the enchantress did her very best not to disturb a soul at this dark hour.
Once outside a quick flick of her wrist conjures up a mirror so that she might check to make sure everything was in place. Giving a small nod of approval to the woman that stared back at her, she donned the mask of a woman she barely recognized anymore. It was a face she had practiced the first twenty four years of her life, charming, keen, proper… absent of all scars and horrors faced these last few months. Absent of any sign of the tears or blood that had been shed. Absent of the desperate pleading look one has as they scrape for coin just to afford a night at a hut that barely passed for an inn, or the twisted smirk that she couldn’t resist as her friends brought death to those before them. The face her father would recognize. A face that those in court would respect. One of their own. The only sign that she didn’t belong, carefully concealed by the chestnut strands of hair placed over the tips of her ears.
Satisfied with the woman before her, Meesha sent the mirror away with another flick of the wrist. Her spirit welling with desire, her blood exploding in ecstasy as she called forth power the power to bend Weave to her will. Focusing on home, focusing on the majestically carved statues and well trimmed shrubbery. Focusing on the bustling servants, the multitude of fanciful colored windows, the intricately detailed gate leading to the Grimm manor. The words came to her and the magic bellowed from within. The spidery words of the arcane whispering forth from her lips carrying with them the power that boiled in her blood. Snaps and sparks of emerald green energy sizzled through the hall. Before long a single muffled “pop” silenced and dispersed the vast amount of energy called forth leaving behind in its wake a dark cloud of heavy smoke that slowly slithered to fill the hall rising to climbing to meet the ceiling above.
The Sorceress that had been the source of the mystical sight was gone.