Men who play games of war and soldiers born from circumstance... MAIN PROFILES ALBUMS STORIES EXTRAS LINKS Scroll 04 : 01 Kso’ppghiel opens glazed eyes as the sun begins to rise and filter through the hanging silk on Io’fayl's terrace. He hates the day, more so than the night because he has to see that man. He and the Captain no longer speak, there is only blood, pain and commands. He’s since ceased to care, following or not following Bal’thial’s orders does not change the outcome. Every night he is delivered back to Io’fayl’s care where he is revolted by her touch but generally blissfully unaware as the only way she can get anything physical from him is when he’s unconscious apparently. He wishes he could stop that too. Over the weeks he has no idea how often she has actually lain with him. The thought alone nauseates him. It takes an almost monumental amount of effort for the Harbinger to lean his head back, his gaze directed towards the swords above the bed. What has he become? The anger is gone and has been replaced with numbness so vast, he feels dead. He has no energy to fight or hate, he also has no energy to obey, so he simply exists. Io’fayl shifts to his side as she pushes herself up to gaze at her Harbinger’s face. The fire in him is gone. He does not move, he barely eats and he will not fight. She cannot grant him freedom, he will not follow her commands, but she is actually at a loss for what to do. The Queen smirks to herself, she’d honestly rather have him trying to kill her still because at least that would be some form of life. She is bored and unhappy and if this situation does not remedy it’s self soon, she will be looking for another. Mithghiiel’s son or not, he is lifeless and she may as well finish the job. Her Captain may have to attempt something different than his usual discipline... The tall Captain’s head remains buried in the arms draped across a single upturned knee, the light of the oncoming sun filtering into his room through the opened terrace doors and washing over him with a warmth he barely feels. He knows that soon enough he will have to rise from his un-slept bed and find his way to his Queen’s chambers to retrieve the Harbinger just as he’s been consistently doing since she issued her orders in the first place, but he’s beginning to hate it with everything that he now is. The last few days have been difficult, taming his emotions and distancing himself from Kso’ppghiel not as easy as he’d like it to be. And why? Because a little bird had been right and he cares more than he should. And he does care… enough to where this entire ordeal hurts him, yet he does what he’s ordered, beats him down and returns him to Io’fayl’s care… time and time again he’s done this and each oncoming day brings a new level of lifelessness to the man who’s internal fire once burned brightly even he could feel its warmth… the Harbinger’s will to live is leaving him, his strength all but ebbed away. Is this what his Queen truly wants? Will she be satisfied when the blonde simply wastes in front of her eyes…? Slowly lifting his head free of his arms, Bal’thial slides his leg down and rises from the bed to dress. The tall Captain enters the room as the doors are held open for him, paying the ones under his command no mind when they shut them once again as he makes his way over to his Queen’s bed. Stopping just before her, his mismatched gaze remains on her delicate feminine form, purposefully avoiding even the slightest glance at the prone figure laying at her side when he bows his head in respect. “Mistress…” “Captain.” She says quietly as her gaze remains on the one below her. A soft stream of words leaves her and the mask over Kso’ppghiel’s face is removed, bringing him a clarity she is unaware he does not want before placing the collar over his neck. “He has not eaten in days… this is… not what I want.” Io’fayl sighs before standing on her bed, more words leave her in a stream as she dispels the barrier over the Harbinger’s swords. Reaching forward, she takes one down, leaving Mithghiiel’s blade in place before resetting the seal. White eyes instantly take notice and follow the sword as she tosses it to Bal’thial. “Do something with him, take him to the arena, let him fight. He is wasting away at this rate and if it does not improve…” She looks down, pain almost filling rust colored eyes. “Then he will need to be replaced.” Bal’thial flinches in the slightest at her words, an action un-noticed by her as rust colored eyes remain locked on the Harbinger’s features and he lowers the weapon in his hands with a slight nodding of his head. “As you wish Mistress.” He says quietly before stepping forward, long braided plaits spilling across broad shoulders when he leans in to the retrieve the chain connecting to the collar secured around the blonde’s neck. Before the Captain can grab him, Kso’ppghiel pushes himself up, smacking him away and going right for the sword that is quickly pulled out of his reach. Io’fayl smiles at the action and gives Bal’thial a look of approval before she watches them exit, her Harbinger walking of his own accord for the first time in days as he follows the sword. As the doors close she sighs, returning to the remaining sword as she dispels the barrier once more. Cool metal fills her grip as she looks over the blade, remembering days past. The white haired Captain speaks the necessary enchantments in order to secure the arena room doors, his mismatched gaze never leaving the white fixed on the sword held against his own in his hands. “So this-” he motions the sword before pulling the blade free of one grip and shifting it to the other. “-Is what brings you back to the living.” Lowering his own weapon to his side, he tosses the lone long sword at the one before him with a soft smirk. “Is there any fight left in you at all, Harbinger? Or has she stripped as much of your soul away as I am sure she has been taking from your body?” Kso’ppghiel’s eyes narrow at the Captain before they move down to his sword. Part of him feels whole again simply having it in his hands and it’s an odd sort of peace he’d been deprived of for weeks, if not months. It will hurt him even more when they only take it away again. His gaze returns to the one before him. He wants nothing more than to rip the Captain’s head off his body and watch the blood flow to stain the ground, but there is another part that’s still hurt to the point he just doesn’t want to be anywhere near him, dead or otherwise. He also has no energy for this fight, his muscles weak from lack of food and conditioning. He knows he will not win, he can barely lift his sword. The Harbinger puts it all aside and pulls what little strength he has left, readying his sword and starting towards the white haired man. Their blades meet and he pushes against Bal’thial, bringing his blade up high and baring his fangs inches from the Captain’s face. The barest traces of a smile forms on Bal’thial’s lips as they remain locked together close. “It is nice to see some form of emotion in your face again, Kso’ppghiel” after days of forced silence on his end, and days of watching the blonde’s spirit seeming to be broken little by little, the tall Captain finds relief in the spark the other man seems to have gained simply from holding one of his weapons again. He also realizes as he’s staring into features he hasn’t seen in completion for days that he’s willing to take anger over nothing any day because at least anger is something… One strong push of his serrated edged sword sends the Harbinger stumbling back and a quick spinning of his lithe body ended with a hard swing up rips the longsword free of clawed hands. Kso’ppghiel lands hard at the same instant his weapon it skidding away and a moment later, the white haired man is on top of him, long linen covered legs straddling his prone form and the smooth end of his serrated blade forcing the blonde’s head back. “How do you expect to reclaim your other sword if you are too weak to hold even one?” his words are quiet in the vastness of the room, carrying a gentleness to them that even he barely notices is there. “What are you allowing yourself to become? Wasting away in her hands while you let her Captain of the Guard beat the very life from you… Where is your strength, Harbinger? Have you really been broken this soon?” Turning his head, Kso’ppghiel removes his gaze from the one above him. He doesn’t want to look at or talk to this man. He doesn’t want to tell the Captain that he cannot eat or sleep and that he is suffocating here, partially because of the Captain’s own words and his desire to see the Harbinger have purpose and meaning. His words come through grit teeth as he finally relents, still refusing to look into mismatched eyes. “It is not that woman who is breaking me.” He clasps the flat end of Bal’thial’s blade between his hands and forces it away from his neck, sliding it into the dirty ground next to him as he rolls up, walking to retrieve his blade and starting the process all over again. Blue and green eyes stare at the figure as he bends in to pull his weapon free of the arena floor in silence while the Harbinger’s words ring through his head. If their Queen isn’t responsible for the blonde’s lack of spirit then who…? The thoughts halt when Kso’ppghiel turns and runs back for him, his own blade raised for a strike that’s weak and easily blocked. This time it’s him who forces the weapons down in between them, faces once again brought close. “Then what?” he says as his gaze slides away from pupiless white momentarily to sweep over a body that’s begun to subtly shake with effort alone before rising back up to lock with the other man’s again. “What here could possibly tear down that will of yours, Kso’ppghiel?” “Who do you think?” The blonde pushes Bal’thial off with all the strength he has, raising his sword up for another blow that is easily caught. “Who do you think has been beating me down for the past few weeks? Who do you think has made me feel and question everything I have ever done? Who do you think has made my entire existence seemingly pointless? Do not speak to me, your words confuse and hurt.” He pushes himself off, turning and walking in the other direction away from the man before him. “I do not know who I am anymore …”

Ish'talla is a co-created story written by Nezumi and Syrinxfox and is (C)2009 to us both. All related characters, images and artwork may not be used, copied or taken in any way without written permission.