Fight for Us

The season has begun to change, and the location of The Residence atop the Redridge makes it feel the growing chill more and earlier than others. The Residence, itself, is cozy, of course; a modest fire burning in the large hearth sees to this.

Verna occupies her usual chair not far from said hearth, a light blanket lying across her lap and a tome resting atop the blanket. The side table holds teacup, saucer, and several additional books (previously perused or queued for querying). Given recent developments, the topics and titles are far more focused and less casual reading than prior fare.

Auranar enters the room with a small plate of simple sugar cookies and sets them down carefully before joining Verna by sitting in the chair that is comfortably close to the other woman's. For a moment she just watches Verna. Their topic of conversation has been rather simple. At least Auranar has no fear that anyone might be listening. The house is well-warded after all. Yet still, talking about the downfall of a fae monarch seems a thing that needs carefully done. "Telamon said that whoever becomes the next queen would need to drink the blood of the old one. That makes things more complicated. Attacking the queen while she is not paying attention seems the best bet, but even then... how do we kill her? Fae are not easily slain."

"Indeed," Verna concurs, head and eyes turning from book to Auranar. A minimal-yet-warm smile is offered her despite the topic of conversation. "All indications suggest some or all could be near-ageless; quite possibly immortal in the truest manner." Her lips eventually purse; perhaps in thought, perhaps due to the concept of consuming blood. "To catch such a being unawares would be most difficult, especially within their own demenses."

She pauses to close the tome on her lap and consider more useful, and possible more positive words. "Cold iron is known to disagree with fae, thus seems a point from with to start. I presume they hold means to harm one another, as well. There are some tales of aggressions, though they lack in fine details or may well be exaggerated."

Auranar nods. "It makes sense that they wouldn't want much information about how to kill them running around if they could avoid it." The sorceress picks up a cookie and fiddles with it without eating it. She hasn't been eating enough lately. "With someone like the queen I would not want to kill her with cold iron only for her to rise up again." The woman shudders at the thought.

"There is scant information concerning the fae," Verna's lips purse further at the lack, "insofar as I am aware. Aside from details deduced from their interactions with mortals, of which I consider Telamon and Cor'lanna to be the foremost exports." She regards Aura and the cookie a moment, as if expecting (willing?) her to take a bite, before she reaches to claim one of her own.

"I do not know if a fae's soul might simply tavel elsewhere and their body reform were it to be destroyed... yet such is not unreasonable to presume." As she speaks, she lifts her own treat towards her face, perhaps encouraging by example. "They are, afterall, extraplanar beings. In that regards, they are not so dissimilar from f-" The word pauses, as does the cookie just shy of her lips. "...-iends..."

Her brow suddenly furrows; not in displeasure, but in an all-too-familiar expression of thoughts threading and weaving. A sizeable bite is finally taken from the cookie and she chews, albeit now somewhat absently.

Auranar sighs, the cookie falling to her lap untasted. "I have no idea myself. Such seems fairly common with extraplanar creatures." Like fiends, though Verna had not completely completed the thought. "Have you thought of something" Her query has hre leaning forward slightly.

Verna finishes chewing her bite, and perhaps her thought. She then nods, eyes focusing upon Auranar's. "Indeed, I have a thought." Her eyes then lower to her wife's lap and the fallen sweets before returning. "Eat your cookie, love, and I shall share."

The sorceress looks down at the cookie as though surprised to find it in her lap. "I didn't mean to pick it up." She has the grace to look embarrassed, and she takes a small bite to appease her wife more than out of desire for the cookie. "Please, continue Verna." She waves the hand holding the cookie at the other woman.

There is a flash of another warm smile to ease any embarrassment (and perhaps a bit of triumph at helping her wife stay semi-nourished) before Verna shares. "During the venture to The Desolation to restore a divine servant, an infernal one that attempted to intervene was destroyed." Of this much Auranar would be aware, though Verna may have previously downplayed or left vague details of her personal involvement in both.

She takes a moment to nibble again upon her own treat before continuing. "The Gray Harpist is shepherd and judge to all souls: their nature or origin are irrelevant. She imparted to me knowledge of the fiend's true self and empowered me to bind it to Her Great Hall. Thus, when friends and allies felled the beast, its soul, its essence, was carried directly to Her Final Judgment. There was no evasion, no return to the Hells to recover, no escape."

"It is possible that She might grant me the same Grace in regards to this fae queen and/or her suspect child."

Auranar blinks at this and thoughtfully takes a bite of the cookie. "I imagine that this ability is not one you can confer onto others." She shakes her head. "No Verna. I don't like it. I don't want to put you in danger for the sake of this mission. You've done enough." If only they had a book with more answers, but that has been a fruitless search. Useless.

"I don't even want you to be there when we confront her. The further from this that you are, the better." Auranar looks at her wife firmly.

How the turns have tabled. Verna's brows lift at Auranar's prompt and firm denial, though she cannot genuinely claim to be surprised. She understands that desire to distance spouse from such expected levels of danger. She also, a bit belatedly, comprehends how it can be wholly logical and joyously heartwarming ... and yet also maddeningly frustrating and possibly a touch insulting.

Verna's brows lower and her expression softens. "Nor do I wish you in danger, Auranar. You know this... too well." There is still the twinge of guilt and regret of her past ...overbearing. "Yet there are tasks which must be completed and risks that are taken, all the same."

"We are together in all things, are we not?" Verna sets down her cookie to reach the hand for her wife. "Such includes risk, and I prefer to face such with you. Moreso if my presence might lessen those risks for you."

Auranar's lips thin and she sets her own cookie aside to take Verna's hand. "I want... to hurt them for hurting you." Hurting is such a small word. Auranar wants to kill them for stealing the years of Verna's life from them both. "But I would sooner take myself off the board than allow you near danger again. If we must be together in this... then let us be together *out* of it."

Despite a few of Verna's past choices suggesting otherwise, she wishes nothing more than to spend her remaining time in this realm with Auranar. Happy. Safe. Together. Thus one would think Auranar's response would have her elated. Yet, her eyes widen momentarily in surprise.

She is quiet a moment, gaze searching Auranar's; not for the ire and fire that have been (are are still) so apparent, but for something else. "I do not wish to constrain you," Verna offers a caveat with mild concern, "but will stand by you, whatever path you choose."

Auranar's dark eyes don't meet Verna's. "You've always tried to protect me. You've always been the reckless one though. Chasing fiends into their hovels and finding danger wherever you go. You say that we'll do it together now, but I can't follow you where you're headed now Verna. You seem like... like this doesn't bother you."

She feels tears burning up in her eyes but she's so tired of tears. She shoves them down forcefully. "Telamon and Cor'lan say that I'm the strong one. Well... They're right. I don't want you to stand by me whatever path I choose. I want you to fight Verna. For yourself. For our future. Fight *me* if you have to!"

Verna cannot deny the first statements. She might be able to argue that some risks were measured, or dangers acceptable... but not all. Nor would they necessarily be justified from Auranar's point of view. Her mouth opens as if she might attempt some mitigating words, regardless, then simply hangs there. Soundlessly, as Auranar vents some of that ire and fire... and it's unexpectedly directed at herself.

"I..." She begins uncertainly with what may be a new test of how many words and or her own feet she might fit in her mouth simultaneously. "I would ever fight for you, for us..." she proclaims, albeit without as much vocal energy as Auranar vented. It is followed by a sigh, "Until I feared that I would spend all remaining time fighting as opposed to living. I do not wish to be as this..." she admits, motioning with her unoccupied hand to herself, "but I DO wish us to be as THIS." Her hand in Auranar's is lifted, keeping hold to raise them both pointedly as Verna's tone and volume grow. "You are the strongest and best of us, and ever my priority. All else is secondary."

"As you are mine." The words are almost defeated and Auranar shakes her head. "I didn't... I *know* you don't want to be like this Verna, but it is I that can not bear it. I was a fool. A fool to think that I would ever be strong enough to watch you die. I've only had a blink of the eye with you and the idea is incomprehensible."

She stands up suddenly. "I have to go. I have to fix this. No more holding back. No more being afraid of the consequences. I love you Verna, and I'd give everything to set this right."

With that Auranar goes upstairs and packs her things. She packs her bow, her arrows. She packs all the things she uses for adventuring and her money too. She's back downstairs before Verna can manage to catch up with her. There's a familiar dangerous glint in the woman's eyes as she heads for the front door. The same expression she'd worn when she'd gone and chased the Corpse Eater down and killed him. She kisses Verna on the temple once and refuses to explain herself. Refuses to be held. "I'll be back when you're asleep, and everything will be better when you wake up."

She leaves then, to fulfill her promise.

-End