A/N: Two rings to rule them all / Two rings to…wait…
(8)
Within the greatest structure of the tree-top city I found the bleach-white skeleton of a man whose silk robes somehow remained whole, clinging to the dark green and deep blue dyes of its make. He had been lain out in the middle of the chamber with hands folded around a single scroll upon his chest. The scroll, like the robes, bore no sign of age. Curious and believing the scroll to possess some knowledge of this ancient sorcerer, I took it from his hands and, suddenly, knew that I was holding no words of record or prose.
This was not the item I had come to collect. My quest had been for the story told by the dragon humans called Nidhoggr. But now that I had this item I found I could not return it to its place, though part of me knew I should. This sorcerer had died in the execution of his duty and I was robbing his corpse. Later, however, when I confessed my sin to Madam Crow she chuckled at me, as she so often does, and told me that the scrolls must be used. Only then will they be gone for good. And so now the scroll was mine.
~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs.
(O)
Rorek followed Raven right up to the point where they found Malchior sitting on top of one of the stadium's high flood lights looking out across the barren terrain that stretched off to the east before meeting distant city lights. She flew up to him but Rorek stayed behind. That was probably a good idea. She sat down next to him along the thick metal and they were quiet for a while. She could feel his rage simmering down. It felt strange being able to sense his strong emotions. She'd gotten use to the paper man who was (haha) a closed book to her. But now he was flesh and, if she wanted to, she could pick out every small flash of emotion he experienced. She didn't, though. That was too much an invasion of privacy which, at its strongest, was almost like mind-reading. Oh she couldn't detect actual thoughts, but thoughts and emotions weren't quite as indistinguishable from one another as people believed. If you could sense a person's emotions then, even if the thoughts weren't obvious, they were certainly easy enough to guess if you also took them in context.
Unless, of course, they were daydreaming. Daydreamers could experience emotions so out of sync with their environment and current situation that once it actually gave her a small headache.
She sat next to Malchior in silence for a while. He glanced at her and then looked away. Before she could perceive this as some sort of rejection, however, he reached out and gripped her hand so tightly in his that it was just on the edge of hurting. More silence. Finally she found something safe and neutral to break it with. "So, how come you can fly naturally but Rorek can't?" she asked.
Malchior snorted. "All Dovah fly by way of innate magic. Think about it, Raven. Do you honestly thing something as big as a dragon could fly without magic? Absolutely not. At best we could only glide and even then I'm pretty sure the air friction would rip my wings right off if I tried. In truth the wings are only there to help us learn and give us an extra boost. The only reason Rorek can't is because he hasn't spent enough time as a dragon to figure it out. That's going to be a bit of a drawback for him in this era. Your spellfire trick works well enough but it isn't going to cut it in the long run."
That made sense. "You could teach him, though. Couldn't you?" she asked. He shrugged.
"Find us somewhere desolate where we won't be seen and yes, I'm sure I could. Could be fun." he mused.
Raven stared at him, waiting for the punch line. There was no way Malchior would admit to looking forward to an outing with Rorek in the spirit of fraternal fellowship. There had to be something—
"I'll use the old-style method of dropping him from a few thousand feet in the air and telling him to miss the ground."
Ah, there it was.
"Helpful advice." Raven snorted.
"Very helpful! Considering what will happen to a several-thousand-pound dragon if he doesn't." Malchior chuckled. His grip on her hand wasn't quite so tight anymore. He wove his fingers through hers and the movement reminded her of the blue metal rings on each middle finger. They were fitted so perfectly that she'd forgotten them almost entirely in the excitement.
"Do you have any idea how I got these rings?" she asked, rubbing the base of her middle finger against his skin so he knew what she was talking about.
"Yes." he answered, "We put them on you. And you're going to wear them until this entire ordeal is over. If you'd been wearing them during your fight against Sister Fear then her spell wouldn't have affected you quite so much. I'm pretty sure they're the reason you managed to pull yourself out of it; though I admit I didn't think that would work with the magic already in your blood."
"They're not lodestones, then."
"All the lodestones we had lost their power over the years. They're just rocks now. No, the rings are iron."
"Just iron? They're blue."
"A very special kind of iron."
"And you're not going to tell me what's so special about it, are you?"
"Mmm, nope!" Malchior answered cheerfully, the American slang cascading so strangely from his lips that she couldn't even pretend to be irritated. But then he chuckled. "Just kidding. They're pure iron, completely pure. They were cast by Nibelungen – ancestors of the dwarves – long before we were born. I don't know why they are blue in color or why they don't rust or even why they're so strong. Pure iron is actually rather soft; it just makes some of the strongest alloys. Rorek and I uncovered them when we were fighting against the first outbreak of organized Blood Magic. They were better than any enchanted blade." he mused.
"I'll get Cyborg to make me something with more iron in it so you can have them back." she said.
"No, Raven. You wear them. It's you they're after…and we both know why…whether they do or not." he added darkly.
She did not want to talk about this. If she did…she'd have to admit that the reason the cult wanted her probably had nothing to do with the Tartarian gods. And that would lead to telling him about her father—which she wasn't quite ready to do. She knew she was going to tell the both of them eventually, but there was something hanging in the back of her mind that made her hesitate. It was a thought she was only almost having, but it scared her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but for some reason she felt terrified of their reactions. Rorek didn't know who Scath was, but Malchior had been aware. She was almost sure that he, at least, would know, and would probably know him by whatever name he'd had before 'Trigon'. If Malchior and Rorek's names had changed so much over the years (how does one get 'Grindel' and 'Beowulf' out of 'Malchior' and 'Rorek'?) then no doubt Trigon's had as well. She wondered what names the Greek and Roman gods had had before the modern tongue turned them into 'Zeus', 'Hera', 'Hades' and so on.
Malchior let go of her hand so he could bring his arm around her shoulders. He hugged her tightly like that and she allowed it for a moment. Then she pulled away. "Are you ready to leave?" she asked. He nodded, but his eyes were still so troubled. She reached up and touched his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. "I'm sure we'll get through this just like you did the first time this happened." she told him.
"Perhaps, but at what cost?" he asked softly, opening his eyes to look at her again. "You scared me back there Raven." he murmured, clutching her hand against his cheek. At first she wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. Did he know what she did? Did he know she had something to do with the strength of the thing that killed Sister Fear? Had he seen the doll? But then he went on, "When I saw you in that circle…I was only angry before. Angry at Rorek for forcing us to wait and listen to Argent tell us what happened and what we were dealing with, and then angry that we couldn't find you. And then…that stupid woman had no idea what she was messing with and it cost her. Circles, those kinds of circles, are like swords. You have to know how to use them; you have to know where the blade is. You know how, when you bring out a sword, it automatically puts people on their guard? Makes them nervous, defensive, maybe even a bit fearful if you're acting stupid enough? Well that's how it works with the circles. Only it isn't people, it's…"
"Whatever killed Sister Fear?" Raven supplied. He nodded.
"The last time I saw a binding circle like that used by some fool who didn't really know what they were doing…it was the trapped one who died." he murmured.
She wouldn't have died, she knew that. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. Malchior didn't, though. And he knew exactly what Sister Fear should have, herself, been afraid of. Suddenly the terrible way he'd conducted himself towards Madam Rouge and Fulgorite made a lot more sense. He'd been terrified, but he didn't know how to channel those emotions into a focus like she did. So he'd turned it into rage. Thinking of it like that, she was more than a little impressed that he'd been able to stop himself from killing Rouge and Fulgorite right then and there.
"Thank you…for not killing them." she murmured.
"They're not the ones who put you in the circle." he said. She didn't need to tell him what 'them' she was talking about. "I would not have spared Sister Fear. I hope you understand that."
She nodded. "Let's go."
(O)
A bed never seemed so inviting, but she couldn't sleep – not yet. She had to meditate, she really did. She wanted to be alone to do it but she couldn't have pried the twins off her tail with a crowbar and some acid bombs so she just focused and pretended they weren't there. Doing this in the living room and roof of the Jump City tower had helped. She didn't always get the quiet she preferred but having an open vista in front of her was much better than the confines of her room, even with the chatter. Of course, there was always the option of opening her window and hovering in front of it but…somehow it just wasn't the same.
At least Malchior and Rorek were being quiet. Well, mostly. Well, they were whispering. Well they tried to be quiet. They were at least made the effort to be quiet.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that, grade school?"
"I've been asleep for a thousand years and I'm a bit rusty, okay?"
"And getting rustier. You punch like a girl."
"Yeah, yeah. And I look like a girl, and I walk like a girl, talk like a girl, and even have a girly pet. Get over it."
"Pet? What pet?"
She was sure she'd told Malchior about Ru at some point or other. Oh, yes, she'd told him just after getting Eric's makeover. Apparently he didn't pay any attention. Figures.
Raven shut them out. She could listen to their bickering any time she wanted. Right now she had to focus.
This wasn't good. There was more there than she'd used against Rorek; more than she had ever brought out before. And what scared her the most was how little it seemed to effect her. You would expect discomfort from it, you would expect it to loom, to sit there and grin at her, waiting for the slightest slip in her concentration for it to break out and get out of control like it use to whenever her emotions slipped. But it didn't.
It was like…no. The way she thought about power was this: the magic-user was a bowl and the power they had to use at any given time was a bunch of marbles. You could have a full bowl and still be able to carry it around without the marbles dropping and getting out, but the more marbles that were in there the more careful you had to be. You could always feel it when you had too many marbles. There was a pressure; a sense of danger. It was like…yes, it was the reason magic-users took Wormwood. If you had too much power in you then that was like having a big huge crayon and trying to use magics that required a delicate touch was impossible.
She did not feel that pressure, even now.
This seemed to indicate that, not only did she have more power, but she also had a bigger bowl for that power. Why? When had it happened? Why had it happened? What did it all mean? Was it simply because of how much more physically fit she was? Or was there something else?
She remembered Malchior telling her about how breeding between magical races wasn't as cut and dry as it was going from nationality to nationality in the case of humans. A human and dragon could come together and what you got wasn't half one and half the other. It was more complicated than that. Did the same apply for demons? What were demons like Trigon called in their time? What name did Scath use back then? Was she only half-demon, or was she all demon with a human mind? Was she both at the same time?
Was she becoming her father? He was definitely the kind of parent who would eat his children. Could he be eating her now even though he was gone? Was he gone? Was it possible that she hadn't actually killed him? Was it possible that he was involved in all of this? Or was she right in thinking the Church of Blood had nothing to do with the Tartarian gods, at least to their own minds? Were the gods just going using the Blood Magic's degenerative effects to get free with her help?
Too many questions, not enough information. What benefit would it do her to dwell on it now?
But what's happening to me? she asked desperately, her thoughts echoing back from the void of her own mind, deep in meditation.
She pulled the power back down, down deep where it could be locked away and kept there. She'd never needed Wormwood. The Monks of Azarath knew how to handle powers like this without it.
How much was too much? How far was too far? If she dared to dig down deep to find the limit, what might rise up out of her core? Red skin? White hair? Four yellow eyes?
The end of the world, maybe?
And what if Morgan Le Fay could help her? What if she knew things that the twins didn't? Raven doubted it, but she felt hesitant about asking Rorek and Malchior for help because she knew the subject of her lineage would have to be addressed. It needed to be anyway and she knew that. She just wasn't ready.
And why was that? Was it because she was afraid they'd know Trigon by some other name? Why did that matter? If they were her friends, her real friends, then they'd look at her and not at who her father was. It wouldn't matter to them what she was. They were friends...
Who, exactly, was she trying to fool? She didn't let any of the others weave their fingers through hers. She didn't sit up on the roof talking about the kids to Starfire. She didn't touch Nightwing's cheek to calm him down. She didn't let Cyborg or Beast Boy shadow her like that even after a particularly upsetting mission.
But there were two of them!
She felt so close and comfortable with Malchior. In fact she'd never felt closer to anyone but Azar. And yet a deep part of her just flat out wanted Rorek. She didn't know who to choose. Maybe that was a good thing. It meant that she wasn't running the risk of picking one of them as a 'more than friends' option. It meant she couldn't come between them like Vergonda did.
She'd need to visit Nevermore again as soon as they got home. It was getting harder to keep them as just friends. She wanted more…she wanted it a lot more than she really should.
Cleared and clean of both power and emotions, she turned and found the twins had fallen asleep leaning on one another. It was absolutely adorable, and way too much of a temptation. She pulled out her communicator and took a picture, grinning the entire time and trying not to feel just a bit jealous. What would it be like to have a silfron? To be intrinsically linked with another person? It had to be torture when you were apart, but together? It meant you'd never be alone. How could that be a curse?
They were probably going to have another fiery argument – no, hang on, this was close enough to England so change that to 'flaming row' – about this when they woke up. She was tempted to go grab some blankets and let them sleep up here but decided against it. She bent down between them and shook them both by the shoulder.
"Malchior, Rorek, wake up. I'm sure your beds will be a lot more comfortable." she said.
She wasn't sure how it happened. Two pairs of hands were involved, they had to be. But they had worked with such synchronization that they could have all four belonged to one person. The end result was that she was suddenly sitting up against the stone crenellation with one dragon on either side and they were both snuggling into her with their arms wrapped around her. It wasn't a very comfortable position. She was leaning against the stone at an awkward angle and stone wasn't exactly soft. But...
No, no buts. There were two ways she could react to this. She could get mad or she could get awkward. She decided on a third option: Irate.
"Do I look like a pillow to you two?" she demanded, managing to get her arms crossed despite all the other arms in the way. Her tone was sharp enough that it managed to rouse the two of them. But for a moment they just blinked at her. "If you both don't let go of me and go get into your own beds then that picture I just took of you leaning against each other will be all over the internet by tomorrow morning. Understood?" she demanded.
"Alright, alright, we'll let go. In a minute." Malchior purred, nuzzling her neck.
Raven smacked him with the back of her hand. "Cut it out!" she snapped, grateful she'd just meditated or she'd probably be blushing right about now. She was blushing anyway, wasn't she? She turned into a flock of ravens to get out of their arms and the two of them butted heads. That woke them up. They instantly leapt back from each other as she pulled herself back together in front of them. "You two can stay up here if you like. But I'm going to bed."
"We're really very sorry, Lady Raven!" Rorek gasped out.
"Liar." Malchior muttered.
"Oi!"
Raven left them to it, melting through the walls back into her room because she was too tired to teleport. Then she threw herself into her bed, cloak and all, and tried desperately not to cry.
How much more of this could she take? Meditating obviously wasn't helping her but for short periods of time and now all that meditating she'd just done had been undone in regards to her feelings for the twins. She couldn't deny how good it'd felt with both of them wrapped around her like that. It was lucky she'd just meditated. If she hadn't then there was no way she could have been able to deal with that with so much outward flippancy.
Raven curled up into a ball, clutching her pillow in her arms and hugging it tightly as the tears seeped out of her eyes.
She needed someone to talk to about this. She really, really needed someone to talk to about this. Normally she'd have gone to Nightwing with something like this, but that was probably a bad idea at the moment. She didn't want to interrupt anything. Obviously things weren't going so bad that either Nightwing or Starfire felt they needed to call her again. That also seemed to indicate that, at the very least, they were a bit too occupied with something to wonder how things were going between Malchior and Rorek.
But who could she talk to? Who could she trust to keep their mouth shut about it all?
Raven smiled to herself. Of course. There was at least one other Titan who was about as chatty as she was, and what Argent couldn't keep a secret she could at least be counted on to forget afterwards.
It had been a long day. She was exhausted. Emotionally and physically exhausted.
And she couldn't sleep.
Without thinking too much about it, Raven took the white book from her belt and slipped it up under her pillow. Then she grumpily began to divest herself of her belt, boots, and cloak. When she laid her head back down on the pillow she was asleep in seconds. When she arrived in her dreamscape she laid herself down on the bed she'd made for herself and slipped down into actual dreams.
(O)
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"
"It is done."
"Then I will find a way to undo it!"
"How, Child? You do not even truly understand the spell you have just woven."
"I must try. Even if it kills me I must try. I will find a way to release you."
"Such an enchantment is beyond my own knowledge. Where will you start your search?"
"I will find the one called Madam Crow…"
"Aaaah."
Raven woke up and rubbed her eyes.
What a strange dream.
(O)
Breakfast was a bit subdued. Or rather, it tried to be subdued and gloomy. Last night had been tiring and, though the three involved hadn't gone into too much detail, frightening. Then the twins started bickering again and it didn't last.
"Where did you learn your table manners, a grain house?"
"Says the one who chews with his mouth open."
"I do not. And you are supposed to—"
"Prove it!"
"You are supposed to ask someone to pass you a dish! Not reach over and grab it!"
"I was only reaching for the salt."
"When your arm has to go far enough you must to sit up then simply ask!"
"Oh go powder your hair, Prima Donna."
"Prima Donna? What do you mean by—OI!"
"Ha! Just caught that did you?"
"Where did you learn how to be a gentleman anyway?-!"
"From you. Not a very good teacher are you?"
"I've half a mind to give you remedial lessons."
"I'd like to see you try."
"Wish granted!"
"Wha—what are you doing?-!"
"First lesson: Sitting up straight."
"Get off me you blasted prick!"
"And here I thought my meals would be boring without Cyborg and Beast Boy providing entertainment." Raven mused as Malchior and Rorek started rolling around the open space of the living room attempting to strangle one another. Amazing how those scarves stayed on despite all the rough play.
"Looks like they're going to have some competition when you get back." Thor snickered. "20 euro says they rip the carpet this time."
"Hey, Argent, did you want to go to that magic-user emporium you were talking about today?" Raven asked.
"Sure. You want to bring the twins along? They might find something interesting." Argent mused.
Quite aside from the fact that this was actually going to be her excuse to talk to Argent about the two, Raven very pointedly looked at the carpet that Rorek's vambrace had somehow torn. Thor might have been happy about that had anyone actually taken him up on his bet. She looked back at Argent. "Let's say no." she answered.
"Oh come on. We'll just keep them separated. I'll take Malchior and you take Rorek and we'll walk in-between them." Argent said.
Before Raven could think of some other reason to object Argent had gotten up and hovered over the struggling pile of humanoid dragon.
"Hey guys!" she shouted, trying to get their attention.
"Yes, Lady Argent?" Rorek asked politely without the slightest pause in his activity.
"What do you want?" Malchior demanded.
"Malchior!" Rorek snapped angrily. "Pay him no mind, Madam, he is only being rude to irritate me. Anyway, you were saying?"
Argent was laughing. "Do you two want to go shopping with Raven and me?" she asked.
"Sounds excellent! Does he have to come?" Rorek asked, pressing his brother's face into the carpet, but only managing to keep it there for a short time.
"Just try to leave me behind, Swan Princess!"
Raven smacked her face down on the table and tried very, very hard not to bust out laughing at the images that appeared suddenly in her head. She couldn't help but wonder whether Malchior realized that the ballerina who plays Odette in that particular ballet often plays Odile as well just with a black costume instead of a white one. When she looked up she immediately knew for a fact that Belladonna had caught on to that and had turned her face away from the scene to hide her silent laughter.
Well that idea backfired. But maybe she would have some time to suggest to Argent that she'd like to talk alone sometime during the trip.
Raven finished off her breakfast and put the dishes away before walking over to the struggle. "Alright, you two. If you're coming with us you're going to cut that out or else I really will start acting like your mother."
Both twins suddenly froze up and stared at her with identical looks of wide-eyed horror in their eyes. Then Malchior's eyes leered.
"I think I am going to call your bluff on that, Raven. You couldn't act like our mother if you tried." he said.
"I didn't mean your actual mother!" she exclaimed, slapping herself in the face. "I meant that I would nag like one." she sighed. "You two get your hair brushed out and we'll go."
(O)
It appeared as though Argent's previous attraction to Rorek had switched to Malchior when he showed up, which didn't really surprise Raven. His coloring was more Argent's style – the only problem being that, if you didn't look at their actual faces, they might appear related. This was just as well, though, since if Argent had latched on to Rorek's arm the way she did Malchior then Rorek would have been extremely uncomfortable but too polite to say anything. Malchior was just grumpy and had no qualms about voicing his objections.
"Unhand me, woman! Don't you already have a man to cling to?" Malchior demanded.
Argent just laughed. "No," she snorted.
"Really," Malchior drawled, looking directly and unashamedly at Thor, who probably wasn't aware that he'd been scowling. Malchior turned back to Argent. "I believe you have been misinformed." he said, which brought Thor up short. But Argent wasn't paying attention.
"We need a portal to Knots, Thanatos." the European Titan instructed.
Rorek chuckled, but softly. He held an arm out to Raven as though he were escorting her to a party of some sort. "Shall we, M'Lady?" he asked. Raven couldn't help but wonder if such a gesture was even around back before Rorek had been sealed in the book. But perhaps history and fashion weren't the only things that repeated themselves. Still, this was a bit of a surprise for another reason.
"You don't mind me touching you?" she asked cautiously.
"Not at all." he told her comfortably. 'I would do nearly anything for your touch, Lady.'
Oh not again! she thought. It hadn't happened for a while so she thought it might have stopped. No such luck, though. She shoved the strange unvoiced words to the back of her mind and took Rorek's arm. They then followed Argent and Malchior through the portal.
Their sudden appearance next to a building with a sign saying 'Knots' hanging out in front of it caused no comment whatsoever despite the group of middle-aged people huddled in front of the glass window consulting some bit of paper. Oh a few of them glanced up but it was just a glance and nothing more.
The inside of Knots was set up much the same as the Wax Ribbon was but it was much smaller, had only one floor, and all the shops were set up around the large restaurant/café floor. It was much better decorated, though. The whole 'knot' theme was very much in evidence along walls, the ceiling, and various decorative pillars. There were also pictures of other things such as swords, shields, crowns, and, of course, shamrocks (which Americans tended to call 'clovers').
Contrary to popular belief, not everyone who lived in Ireland had an Irish accent and they certainly didn't go around saying 'top of the morn'n to ya' unless they were making fun of the silly tourists. No one in Knots was going to make fun of a tourist because you wouldn't get the normal kind of tourist in here. Despite how decorative the inside was, the outside had been as dull and humdrum as possible and was stationed along a street that would need a demolition team, a construction crew, and about 50,000 euro before it would attract anyone who didn't know what Knots was or that it was there. Raven was starting to see a trend here. But she could see the logic. Self-respecting shops like the Wax Ribbon and Knots who catered with any seriousness to the magic-users of the community wouldn't want to advertise. Oh you were going to get those customers who thought a lot of makeup, black hair dye, and ridiculous ornamentation was all it took to become a mysterious sorcerer, but at least this way they would be few and far-between.
Though, Raven noticed, there weren't any of them in Knots at the moment. In fact there weren't that many people in there to begin with, and most of them weren't really dressed up at all. These days jeans and a t-shirt was the common uniform of your typical magic-user, and what your typical magic-user really wanted out of a shop like this was a book of spells that had something in it which would get that nasty stubborn stain out of the carpet and stop the dishwasher leaving soap scum on their pots.
The two girls suddenly realized that they were walking further into the mini mall alone (they'd had to let go of their escorts in order to get in through the door). They stopped and looked over at the twins, who were staring around at the decoration with odd looks on their faces. Malchior's expression was grim. Rorek's was simply guarded, but she could feel his disquiet. They were hissing to one another in Draconic so softly that all Raven could tell was that they were speaking, though she got the impression that Malchior was trying to reassure his brother about something. She approached them.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. Rorek's just being touchy." Malchior answered mildly.
"It is not nothing and I am not being 'touchy'!" Rorek snapped angrily. He jabbed a finger at the large intricate knot that decorated the ceiling. "This is as bad as the crop circles! And these are magic-users, are they not? They have no business being so foolish and ignorant!"
"You mean the Celtic knots? It's just a design. It doesn't mean anything. What's the big deal?" Argent asked.
"It is not just a design!" Rorek exclaimed. He was incredibly upset and getting more and more angry. That was frightening. Rorek wasn't the kind to lose control like this and he certainly wasn't the type to cause a scene. Raven took him by the arm and led him back out of the door just in time to avoid the store hand who was coming over to see what the trouble was.
The sign above the small shop (well, it was small on the outside anyway) had a basic trinity knot underneath the shop's name. Rorek probably hadn't noticed it so she pulled him into the ally before he did in case it agitated him even more.
She let him go when they were alone and he leaned up against the wall, his face buried in his hands. "A design…just a design…" he murmured. "I cannot believe this. Crop circles, Celtic knots…These things aren't just…just things! How can Malchior be so calm about this?-!" he demanded.
"He's had time to come to terms with it, I guess." Raven mused. "Rorek, it's not as bad as you might think. I don't know what the circles or the knots meant in your time but in this time they're all over the place and nothing really happens. Malchior once told me that, back in your time, magic was a bit softer and things leaked. In this time that's not the case. Usually you need more than just a symbol and an intent for magic to work. Crop circles are done for fun and Celtic knots really are just designs." she explained.
Rorek looked up at her, and there was real torment in his eyes. It was almost scary. "They are not just designs, Raven." he whispered. Then he reached up and, with both hands, pulled down his scarf.
Immediately Raven was struck by the sight of him. He had no facial hair, not even a hint, and if she'd thought he was handsome before with the scarf on it was nothing to how he looked without it. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Not girly, exactly. Though he did have somewhat feminine features; full lips, smooth skin, angular profile. The word 'pretty' wasn't really appropriate. The word 'beautiful' was. It was inhuman…then again, he wasn't human was he?
But, when she adjusted to the shock, she was able to see details. And so she saw the marks. They were mirrored on both sides of his face, the lines coming from just under his ear were braided together in a very basic weave until they got to a point on his cheek that was just between his ear and his nose where they made a far more complicated knot. Then from that knot they went straight down to his jaw to his neck and disappeared behind the turtle neck of his bodysuit which, she also noticed, had a small silver button on the side.
But they weren't marks. They were pale white and slightly…off. Not marks, not tattoos. They were scars.
Raven reached out to touch them but realized what she was doing just in time and drew her hand back. "Those…what are those?" she asked quietly. "Are they…everywhere?"
Rorek took off one of his gauntlets, put it in his sub-space pocket, and then pulled back the sleeve to show her both the back of his hand as well as the wrist. "Yes." he answered grimly.
The intricate weave wrapped around his wrist, came out into a very slight arrow shape down the back of his hand, and then continued down his wrist from the arrow. The scars were so detailed, so precise – there were even spaces so small it was were more like a texture meant to indicate where one line lapped over another so that there was no doubt the pattern was meant to be a weave. When he pulled the sleeve of his black suite back further she could see that the weave spread out along his bicep, presumably turning into multiple weaves that wound more intricately and strongly the closer they became to his chest. Somewhere down there it seemed that the design sort of split so that the scars themselves were no longer the 'string', as it were, but lines to indicate where the string was.
This time she couldn't stop herself. Raven touched the band around his wrist with her fingers. She felt the tissue damage. These really were scars, and they were old. They were the kind that would never heal, not by themselves. And if Rorek, with all his power and knowledge, could not remove them…
"Rorek, what are these?" she asked, looking up into his face. It was strange being able to see his entire expression, the way his lips curved and the scars moved slightly as the muscles in his cheeks flexed. He looked away and shook his head, his eyes closed.
"Something…very, very wrong." he murmured. "Something our mother did to us…long ago…"
"Us?" she choked out. "Malchior too?"
He nodded. "His are darker. My skin color on his flesh, his color on mine. Other than that they are exactly the same. A very old and very potent wizard woman attempted to remove the magic but…it didn't work. Not fully. These marks will never leave. Our mother is…was…simply too powerful." he murmured.
"What is it, though?" she murmured.
"An experiment." he sighed. "One that worked all too well. The weaves are bindings, and they are marks that are not meant to appear on flesh. Not like this, and not in the way she used them. They are suppose to be in twine, shaped metals, perhaps even in plastic. They are supposed to be made, not painted on. String and iron; these are safe mediums. One can even mold a design of it onto iron if you are careful and know what you are doing. But this? No, it should not be done like this."
It was so strange watching his lips move as he spoke like this. She was so close to him that his subtle scent, a sort of sweet musk with a hint of pine and maybe a little vanilla, was prominent and…familiar. Like she'd smelled it before but not from him. She liked it a lot. She was suddenly seized with the desire to—
NO! FOCUS! DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT! she yelled at herself sharply. "Is this deep magic again?" she asked aloud.
Rorek shook his head. "No, but it is very old. So old that even in my time knowledge of it was scarce. But it seems the most potent of things cling to the world down the ages." he murmured.
"Magic is different now." she told him softly. "You need more than just a symbol and an intention to use it. Whatever these did back in your time they don't do it now or I would have heard of it. Celtic knots are very popular designs. They're all over the place. I'm sorry."
He sighed. "Perhaps…perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps it means they cannot be used the way they were any longer. I apologize for my reaction. Malchior assured me it was a small thing but I wouldn't listen."
Raven thought about how she might have felt if her birthmarks suddenly became a popular design and shook her head. "No, I completely understand. If I'd been in your position…I probably would have caused property damage."
He smiled and chuckled. It was an amazing smile.
"So…that's why you two wear scarves? To hide the scars?" she asked him. She was mildly aware that she was still running her fingers over his wrist and the back of his hand. He wasn't pulling away or showing even the slightest indication if discomfort, though. In fact, it almost seemed her touch was calming him down. Just like it did Malchior.
"Yes…it is not exactly something we like to showcase. Though I get the feeling Malchior stopped caring long ago. Perhaps he simply got over it when the marks became aesthetic ornamentation." he mused.
"It hurt…didn't it?"
"It was agony…for both of us." he answered softly. "Madam Crow once told me that the purpose of hardships and trials are to strengthen and galvanize the spirit. Galvanized against what, however? The question is a bit frightening. What could the future hold that we must have such strength to withstand it? What could we face that is worse than what we have already experienced?"
"Blood Magic?" Raven offered.
Another smile, a bitter one. "You know…I think you may be right about that. After this, Blood Magic did not frighten us nearly as much as it used to. We, Malchior and I, back before Vergonda, we were instrumental in the downfall of the first organization. Perhaps this was thanks to our lack of the paralyzing terror that claimed most knights during those dark days. Nothing Blood Magic could do to us was worse than what we had already been through. Of course, it helped that we were dragons. Blood Magic cannot easily extract its power from the children of Pahmonah. There is a reason why, but it is a bit difficult to explain and I'm not entirely sure I understand it in any case."
"What do you mean 'the children of Pahmonah'? I thought Maartuz was the first dragon."
"Oh, you don't know that story? I would have thought Malchior might have told you by now." he mused. "Yes, Maartuz was the first dragon. But he was the son of Onik, who was the son of Pahmonah and Koraavvah. The story goes that Onik waged war against his parents, every telling seems to have a different reason for why, but during the battle Pahmonah's flesh was torn and it fell to the earth where it became the ancestors of the magical creatures known today only in myths and legends. Griffins, minotaurs, manticores, phoenixes, leviathans, sirens, and so on."
"Where was Maartuz in all this?"
"The stories can't seem to agree on that any more than they are able to figure out who won and who lost. Some say he was fighting alongside his father, others say he denied his father and fled, and still others say that he was the one who struck the killing blow to Koraavvah. All they seem to agree on is that there was a battle, Pahmonah's flesh was in some way responsible for the magical creatures of the world, Koraavvah died, but Pahmonah did not. Some say Onik died as well, others say he was simply punished, and others say he won the fight and banished his mother only to face the wrath of Iiam Bormah Himself. One way or another, Pahmonah is the mother of all magical creatures."
"Onik…that directly translates to 'wisdom'. Ironic. But Koraavvah…that means 'fresh water', doesn't it?" Raven asked. It was a combination of words that actually meant 'see' and 'spring', so by the weird twisted up logic of Draconic it could just as easily be describing a field of flowers. Still, somehow that option didn't seem right.
"It does. Did Malchior teach you that?"
"No, it just…feels right." she answered.
Rorek cocked his head at her. "Are you absolutely sure that you—"
"Oh good, you're done being angsty. Are you two coming or not?" Malchior's voice demanded from the mouth of the ally.
Rorek pulled his scarf back up swiftly as though he were shy about his own brother seeing him without it, but he was smiling underneath. "Actually we were having quite a nice time chatting back here so if you could clear off for a while longer that would be smashing." he answered, replacing his sleeve and gauntlet while he spoke.
"Very funny. Come on!"
(8)
A/N: And so now we know why Malchior and Rorek (well, Rorek anyway) wear those scarves! And I've pretty much slit my own throat because any desire I might have to draw either of them shirtless (drool) would take an INSANE amount of time and effort and learning how to draw Celtic knots. Oh well. The size of image that FF allows would be too small for any real detail anyway.
Coming up in the next chapter:
So…girl talk. How do we do that again?
Too bad having Raven go 'screw this', grab Rorek, and kiss him right then and there would be a bit too OOC…
PS: Would like to reiterate my thanks to all of you who take the time to pick out and detail all my spelling and grammar errors. Especially you, Cinis. YOU'RE AWESOME! :D (BTW, did I use 'affected' right? 'Cause I'm not sure about that…)