Raven's story Part 13
June 26, 2015 at 8:24 PM
His combat gear and various personal sundries neatly stowed in the locker beside the bed he had chosen, Raven removed his dress uniform and slipped into a simple black yukata. Leaving his shirt on the bed, he took his coat, pants and boots over to the dorm's small lounge area. Two plump, upholstered armchairs framed an equally cushioned high backed sofa to ensconce the room's spacious fireplace. As expected, a cabinet by the mantlepiece held several irons, stacks of soft rags and tins of boot polish. Small wooden toggles kept a bank of ironing boards upright against the wall. He released a board to it's horizontal position laying his coat and pants over it before hanging a clothes iron on the hooked end of one of the cranes he swiveled closer to the fire. Choosing the armchair that faced the doorway, Raven polished his boots while he waited for the iron to heat up.
His uniform brushed and pressed. His boots shined to a mirror polish.[ Do ya'll think I should start here instead?* ] Raven took his daggers from the locker and went downstairs to the barracks training room. [ Omitting this line if so ] He removed his yukata and tightened up the various straps on his pants. He rolled his neck, his ankles and did a few light stretches before going to sit on the wooden floor in front of a number of training dummies. The young Assassin centered himself with a few breathing exercises. Seated motionlessly, his eyes closed, he performed a kata in his head. Slowly at first, each movement precise, then faster and faster he ran the kata over and over in his mind until he could all but feel the air around him swirl under the onslaught. Raven rose from the floor. His blades, singing silver blurs slicing through the air as he danced with them. At the end of the kata, he took a step toward the three training dummies standing in the corner. As his dagger made contact, an unexpected twinge telegraphed through his hand. Each blow he struck sent a small shiver of pain up his arms. Raven stopped halfway through the kata. His wrists burned and he felt an odd buzzing sensation in the fingers of his left hand. He sheathed his daggers and cradled his left wrist in his other palm, holding it at an upward angle against his chest.
"Well, I can see Orlan will be earning his keep for a change while you're staying here, Raven." A voice said with a chuckle. The Asmodian guard whom he had handed his housing papers to earlier leaned against the doorframe smiling past the young Assassin with a nod. Two of the training dummies had suffered significant damage and the third lay in pieces on the floor. "Orlan is on retainer to maintain those sparing forms for us. The Reains having jurisdiction here in Sarpan, Pandaemonium keeps only a handful of troops stationed here. Most choose to live in private houses up the hill, so you'll pretty much have the run of this place while you're on the mend." The guard said eyeing Raven's bandaged wrapped chest and wrists. "Of course, I guess this also means we'll have the pleasure of seeing more of our illustrious leader now that you're here as well." The guard added in a slightly churlish tone. "Neva is in command of the troops assigned to the barracks, but he prefers to spend most of his time training squads in Katalan. Not much for him to do here in Sarpan, really. That leaves me, Paarl and Echo to stand watch at the door of a building that's empty most of the time. Peach of a posting, if you asked me though; a sweet, soft, juicy peach! Eight and sixteen's in a nice quite corner of a bustling city that's flowing with goods from every corner of Atreia. There's even a beach not far from here. Sun, sand and plenty of fish in the sea, if you catch my drift." The guard boasted, adding a wink after the last remark. " I'm Marcealous, but feel free to call me Marcos . Everyone else does."
The fiercely patriotic, battle-hardened Assassin found it impossible to conjure even the tiniest amount of respect for any Asmodian in active military service who could so contently while away their days in such a post as this. The privileged popinjay before him didn't show an ounce of shame to be guarding the doorway of a predominately empty building, safe from harm under the protection of Kharun's Will while elsewhere his brothers and sisters in arms risked life and wing for Asmodae. Marcealous wasn't the first Asmodian that Raven had crossed paths with to show a similarly twisted pride in what the Assassin considered nothing short of dereliction of duty. The great City of Darkness, Pandaemonium herself had once been a posting of supreme honor earned only though acts of uncommon valor and bravery on the battlefield, which more often than not had been accomplished at the cost of grievous bodily injury. When military service became compulsory , however, these revered assignments were perverted by the elite into little more than a refuge for their sons and daughters to 'serve' Asmodae in complete safety behind the unassailable walls of the Capital. Having been born into a family of both great wealth and considerable influence, Raven could have had his pick of any post in the city, but he eschewed this entitlement due to his patriotism and deeply ingrained sense of honor and duty.
To be stationed in a place so far from danger, threat or harm, Marcealous must surely be the son of some powerful politician or noble House. Operating under an alias, the Assassin knew nothing that he did or said would come back to cast a bad light on his family's name, but he was also all to aware of how petty and spiteful members of the aristocracy and their parents could be. Raven, having been brought up in a household that was intimately familiar with the intricacies of the social circles and political intrigue in the Capital, was well versed in how to conceal the utter contempt he felt beneath a pleasant veneer.
"While the flowers of Asmodae grow strongest in shadow, it would seem those feared too fragile, Sarpan harbours on her sunny shores." Raven replied congenially, issuing the glorified lackey in soldier's garb a suitably obtuse insult in the form of a self-deprecating remark. Thus, it was with a slight dip of his head that Raven turned away from Marcealous to retrieve his yukata.
"Silver...Song." Marcealous said, drawing the words out as he stroked his immaculately trimmed goatee. "Silversong. I daresay I find myself at a loss. This is most distressing as I take a particular pride in being acquainted with all of the Houses in Panda." He paused before adding in a condescending tone. "Even the new ones. Yet here you are in Sarpan with a surname I am unfamiliar with. Dear me, such a quandary ." The foppish male puzzled as he stood covering just enough of the doorway as to bar Raven's passage. It was no surprise to the Assassin that this silver spoon could not at first grasp the idea of a common soldier being sent to a post that was normally the strict purview of Asmodae's elite.
"My House." Raven said, swallowing thickly as he found it more difficult than usual to say. "My House, resides in me." This time, when he said it, his cover story stuck in his throat. This time, what he said was true. The devastating attack on Morheim had left Raven the only surviving member of the Shadowsong family. A family that had been among those that founded that fortress city. House Shadowsong, one of but a handful of Houses that could trace their lineage all the way back to The Cataclysm and the future of this ancient House now rested solely on his shoulders. So much had happened so quickly that Raven had not yet fully processed everything. More to the point, there was a part of him that actively did not wish to.
"I, I can see this has happened recently. You have my deepest sympathies, soldier SilverSong." Marcealous said with genuine sincerity, his entire demeanor instantly changing. "To find one's self suddenly alone must truly be a terrible thing. I, I am very sorry for your loss. If there is anything that you need. Anything at all." The guard added, stepping out of the doorway giving the young male room to pass freely.
"Thank you." Raven said as he left the room, his voice husky.
* I'm not sure if the 1st paragraph slows the pace too much or not. It basically was just to show a sort of lay out of the upstairs and gave Raven a quiet, domestic moment that might make it easier to identify with him.
Raven's story Part 14
June 26, 2015 at 8:25 PM
A swirling malestrom of grief and anger heaved inside of Raven with such violence that he feared he might be overcome by the rising tide of it's black churning waters and drown. He had managed to keep these emotions bottled, corked and buried since the day he found the broken toy sword he carved for his youngest brother among the smouldering ruins of Morhiem and he was bound and determined not to allow these feelings to scuttle him now. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fist into the wall, putting the full weight of his body behind the blow. The wood paneling split beneath his knuckles and so to did his skin. The pain that lanced through his hand and up his arm instantly focused his tumultuous thoughts.
During his captivity, Raven had learned that pain did not necessarily have to be one's enemy. The Elyos, in their attempts to extract information from him had been ruthless in their methods and just when he thought he had endured the worst they could do, he was subjected to even more brutal forms of torture. He had come close to giving in and telling them what they wanted to know, once. Unfortunately for his interrogators, it was at this exact moment that Raven discovered the benefits of making pain his ally. The agony had been so abrupt it overwhelmed him before he could even steel himself against it. Eventually, under this onslaught his mind just let go, allowing the pain to thoroughly envelope him. Once he had submitted to it's jagged embrace he found he had no thoughts, no fear, no self. He floated unperturbed in a white emptiness where even pain itself lost form. The assassin found refuge in this mind-emptying place, when he could reach it and had been surprized to find this state of mind strangely euphoric, until inevitably his safe haven would be swallowed by an inky darkness as his consciousness detached from more than just his suffering.
With a look of grim satisfaction, Raven earased the bright red blood blooming around his knuckles with his tongue, the coppery taste of it overpowering the bitter bile that had risen in his throat. Calm and centered once again, he made his way to the showers. On the other side of the swinging double doors he was met by a Daeva dressed in white Twisp linen.
" Sir, the clinic informed of your arrival. While I serve mainly as the attendant and massage therapist here at the barracks, I am at your disposal should you require my assistance for any reason during your stay. Regretfully, Marcealous only just brought it to my attention that you had gone to the training room and I am still in the process of preparing the facilities for use. I apologize for this inconvience. If you would be so kind as to have a seat, I could assist in the removal of your bandages while the water finishes heating." The sandy haired male said extending his arm toward a partitioned alcove with a marble bench and a counter that had several towels stacked on one side of it. Raven took a seat on the bench and allowed him to remove the bandages that covered the vast majority of his torso without comment. The attendant was obviously a professional who had learned his trade well for when the assassin sat in silence, the male removing the gauze did so in kind. Raven welcomed the quiet demeanor of the other Asmodian and sat contently, glad that he was not being peppered with questions or bombarded with idle chitchat. While his encounter with Marcealous in the training room had been an annoyance at first, it had gone on to become distressing toward the end, leaving the assassin in little mood for conversing. When the tow-haired Daeva was done, he drew the curtain across the opening of the alcove and left Raven to disrobe in private. A short while later, the sound of someone clearing their throat announce that the attendant had returned.
"Enter." Raven responded and the attendant opened the curtain.
" The water is ready for you. This way, please." He said, motioning toward a doorway off to the right. In a show of deference, the attendant did not lead him nor did he follow, but waited for Raven to proceed across the room and into the next before joining him there. Like the alcove where he had undressed, the room had a single marble bench and a counter. This bench, however, had a drain in the floor beneath and a pitcher set nearby. The room also contained a large oval claw-footed tub filled with steaming water, a rectangular waist high porcelain one that appeared to be unheated and a wooden door in one of the walls that he assumed lead to a sauna based on the small circular window on it's face.
"Would the gentleman like a steam before bathing?" The attendant asked, confirming that the wooden door did indeed enclose a sauna. A nice quiet steam did sound appealing and he indicated his approval with a slight nod. The small sauna had the warm smell of old cedar. The steam and the soft sizzle of the coals from whence it came relaxed more than just one's muscles and it wasn't long before Raven felt himself starting to doze off which meant it was time to go. When he left, he was pleased to find the room outside the sauna, while comparatively cooler was warm enough not to be chilly. The attendant was waiting patiently beside the bench, a pitcher in one hand and a lap towel in the other. While not a part of his normal bathing routine, Raven had grown up in a family many would consider privileged and he had on numerous occasions been to a few private homes as well as some of the more exclusive establishments where the patrons where bathed by those employed to do so. Thus, he traded his ankle length towel for the markedly smaller one which he placed over his lap as he sat down on the bench. Once the perspiration from his sauna had been rinsed from his skin, the attendant walked to the counter where he retrieved a tray filled with various small boxes and tins.
"We have these soaps from which to choose from at the moment. If there is a soap the gentleman would prefer, I can arrange for it to be procured." The attendant said as he displayed the tray of boxed soaps to Raven. A flaxen box with a cobalt ribbon tied around it caught his eye. Lifting it to his nose, he found the scent familiar though he could not place where he knew it from. The attendant gave a soft humph which drew Raven's attention and just before he turned to walk away, Raven noticed that the Daeva was smiling . The attendant returned with a bar of honey coloured soap. He also had the blue velvet ribbon which he inexplicably laid on the bench and proceeded about his work in silence. Raven regarded the deep rich blue of the ribbon where it lay for a moment before picking it up, idly twisting and twining it through his fingers.
The attendant proved himself to be a consummate professional once again, Raven failed to feel a single sting of soap from any of raw wounds that remained on his back. His attendant was exceedingly careful where he applied the lather and mindfully blocked the soapy water from running over these tender areas with the side of his hand as he slowly poured pitcher after pitcher of perfectly heated water. The rest of the bath left Raven with little doubt that the slightly older male was a competent masseuse as well. The soapy lather was not merely rubbed over his skin, but applied by strong fingers that massaged deeply into the muscles of his arms and legs.
"I'd prefer not to wash your hair with you seated like this." The attendant said when he had finished. "I have prepared both a heated and unheated tub or I could obtain a massage table from the other room for you to recline on."
The room was warm, but his skin was wet. Raven did not relish the thought of breaking out in gooseflesh while having his hair washed, so he rose and went to the oval tub filled with steaming water. He braced himself for the sting he expected when the water made contact with wounds Ela had left unclosed. Surprisingly, he felt no discomfort at all.
"I took the liberty of adding the soothing bath oil the clinic sent shortly after you arrived at the barracks." The fair haired Asmodian said. He placed a folded towel between Raven's neck and the lip of the tub after gathering up the assassin's long black hair. Starting near the ends and working his way up, the attendant carefully combed the tangles out. Raven had always enjoyed the way it felt when other people combed his hair and it had been a very long time since he had enjoyed anything. So long that he didn't even mind when gooseflesh erupted from wrist to shoulder on both of his arms as they rested on the rim of the tub. Slowly, with each stroke of the comb thru his hair, Raven relaxed a little bit more as if alongside the tangles his worries as well were being worked free. There were precious few places where an Assassin could allow himself to relax, really relax that is, but deep inside an Asmodian Barrack was usually one of them. Even so, an Assassin was never far from his weapons and Raven was no exception. As he lay, naked in the tub reveling in the simple pleasure of having his hair combed, he was far from vulnerable. Both of his daggers lay close by though he was fully capable of defending himself without them as he kept his claws as sharp as his blades. A habit he had picked up from Fayvr and a good thing too after seeing how lax secruity was in this particular barrack. As this thought flitted through his mind, he suddenly tensed up and gripped the edge of the tub instantly on alert.
"Are you experiencing some discomfort?" The attendant inquired.
"No, everything's fine." Raven said softly. He turned this statement over in his mind and after pondering on it awhile he loosed his grip on the tub and relaxed his shoulders. Everything was fine. Kharun's Will ruled over Sarpan leaving the Elyos powerless to harm even a single hair on his head. It was at the moment that he thought he knew why Kvasir had sent him all the way out here to recuperate. What Raven initially thought was a punishment for having been captured in the first place had actually been done with his best interest in mind. Instead of being cloistered in an infirmary room in Pandaemonium, he had been sent where he could walk freely down the quiet residential lanes surrounded by flowers and fresh air. As Marcealous had mentioned, there was a beach where he could stroll along the water's edge or sit and listen to the surf hissing over the sand. What little of Sarpan Raven had seen was beautiful and everyone he had met had been helpful and friendly. The Asmodians he had come across had smiles on their faces, something not that often seen in Pandaemonium. Sarpan was the only place in all of Atreia where the Elyos would be unable him harm, besides the unassailable City of Darkness herself. He was safe here. Safe to heal without the pressures of being in the Capital City. Safe to concentrate on getting himself back into shape without constantly having to be on his guard against the White Wings outisde of her and safe in a place where he could rid himself of the niggling, shameful fear the Elyos' whips had managed to carve into his soul. The latter being something that would be far easier to overcome here where he would be able to walk right up to one with impunity. This realization lifted a weight from his shoulders he wasn't even aware he had been carrying.
"Huhhhhhh..." He exhaled as he closed his eyes and allowed himself once again to enjoy the unique pleasure he always experienced when someone messed with his hair. Kistig seemed incapable of keeping his fingers out of Raven's hair and the Assassin mused briefly if that had been one of the reasons he spent so much time at the reclusive alchemist's cabin. "Mmmmmm..." He murmured as he let his arms slide off the rim of the tub and into the warmth of the water.
(* Yes, named for Thannatos of Celestial Being Legion ^.^ )
Thannatos continued to run the comb through Raven's long black hair even after every tangle had long since been removed. In his line of work as a massage therapist, he had learned to read body language like a book and from the Assassin's response, he could tell that what he was doing was more than merely relaxing the client in his tub. It was soothing, calming, comforting and comfort was something he knew this battered young male was greatly in need of. He kept the rhythm of the comb slow but steady, occasionally dragging the fingers of his other hand through the long thick wealth of hair keeping time with the rise and fall of Raven's chest. With the skill a hypnotist would envy, Thannatos silently drew Raven's consciousness away from the worries of the world.
"You have his eyes..." Thannatos said softly when he believed he had brought Raven into a deep enough state of relaxation for the young male to be able to listen to what he was going to tell him without being distressed.
"Hhmmmm?" Raven inquired with a dreamy lilt brought on by a mixture of the soothing warmth of the water and the intoxicating effect of the attendant's fingers and comb.
"Your father, you have his eyes. Great man. He'll be sorely missed." Thannatos continued.
"Nnnnngh" Raven protested, his brow furrowing.
"Shhhhhhh. It's ok. You're safe. There's nothing to worry about." Thannatos cooed. "Nothing said here leaves here, Raven. Your secrets are safe with me. No one else knows and no one else will." He let his words sink in for amoment, his fingers continuing to slowly feather thru Raven's hair. "Your face seemed vaguely familiar and I was sure that I recognized your eyes. It was when you chose the soap I knew my suspicions were correct. I met him , your father, when he toured Sarpan. Stayed right here in these barracks and I had the honor of attending him. His eyes, I'll never forget his eyes and yours are exactly the same. The soap? That arrived with him and I've kept a small supply of it on hand should he make a return visit. Specially made, a gift from his wife I believe he said. The box, the colour of his eyes. The ribbon the colour of hers. Beautiful woman, he showed me a picture of her. A portrait in a locket he wore around his neck. He showed me a picture of you too. Your portrait was in the other side of the locket. He was very proud of you , Raven. He spoke of you often. He spoke of all his sons, but mostly of you. He told me about how you had chosen a life in the military and eschewed the privileges your name could have afforded you. I could hear the pride in his voice, see it shining in his eyes. He loved you very much."
Raven's eyelashes fluttered and when Thannatos saw a tear slip out from the corner of the young male's eye, he decided he had said enough for now.