She of the Pale Face

Grandfather's face is grave on this, the day of the journey to meet with Tyto'albana. While the patriarch of the family that Auranar has bound herself to by rite of blood and by promise of words never wears much diversity in the way of clothing, today he wears a sense of dread like a crown, a sullenness in his violet eyes. He insists on cooking a breakfast for Auranar, but it is a meal eaten with almost total silence on Grandfather's part. Cleanup occurs just as quietly, and then he opens the door that leads back out into the wild world, the world that is less like a dream suggested in watercolors and more like the firmament for Auranar since the day of the blood pact--for it is where, in one set of memories, she spent her childhood. Here, in Grandfather's woods. Here, in his home.

A home that they are both to leave for a journey with no firmly expected outcome. Only a hope.

"Are you certain of this?" Grandfather asks, one last time. "I will accompany you and I will keep you safe. But know there is danger out there. You must stay close to me and hold my hand, my dear child. I... I would be lost without you."

GAME: Auranar rolls Sense Motive: (20)+3: 23

"I am certain." Auranar says, following in Grandfather's wake as they head out of the house. She doesn't often venture terribly far from here, knowing that the risks - unspoken of - are dire indeed. Things she's certain she can scarcely imagine. She waits only a moment before sliding her hand into place where his is waiting. "I will be as careful as I can be."

She wants to comfort him, but she'll not lie to do it. Auranar is too aware that there's very real risk here. Not only in the trek to and from their destination, but in the very meeting itself. It was worth the risk though, to keep Grandfather safe, to keep _everyone_ safe. This is something that for once; she is uniquely qualified to do. She smiles at him and nudges Grandfather gently. "I'd be lost without you too." Quite literally, but she means it to cheer him up. Her next words are more gentle. "Do you want to tell me anything about her?"

Grandfather brightens just a little at that nudge and those words, his large talon hand wrapping around hers in that gentle way that seems so contrary to their intended purpose. These are things that are intended to kill, to break, to rend, and yet he manages so much of life and living, life and loving, with them in a sort of ease that comes with centuries of practice. Then the question comes, and he stiffens a little, the dread returning to his mouth in a sober expression. "She is..."

"Hard to talk to," comes the voice of one of Grandfather's birds, perched on the roof of the house. This one hops down to come and cuddle against Auranar's cheek, a fluffy bird-boy that Auranar knows instinctively (a knack that she can never explain to anyone except for Cor'lana) as Pip.

"Yes, Pip," Grandfather replies. "Has been for a very long time. I'm afraid that the last time we spoke, we had a... disagreement. It was not an explosive one. It was, however..."

Pip preens Auranar's hair like it's her feathers. "Hard to hear," he answers for Grandfather, in a mimic of his voice.

Auranar smiles automatically at the bird that lands on her shoulder, lifting her free hand to pet the bird, and even rubbing her cheek against it's ministrations. "Is it something that I should know of, be wary of?" She looks at Grandfather then, she doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, but if there's something that might impact this conversation that she needs to have... Better to know it now then to have it pop up unexpectedly later.

Grandfather begins to walk with Auranar into the woods, his talons still gentle and unshifting around her hand. "At the time--she had entered an arrangement to be wedded to a lowly member of one of the Seelie courts. And--I had tried to fight my nature then. I had enough of the darkness and the pain that I saw among my Unseelie kin and I yearned for the breaking of the light. I had asked her to make an introduction for me. I had asked her if there was room for me among their light, or at least on the edge of dawn. She had always been sympathetic to me, and--in the years that have passed since, I recognize now that she thought it would be more cruel to tell me what I wanted to hear instead of what I needed to hear. She told me that I would not be happy trying to chase the incandescence of Summer, that I was a creature like her better suited to darkness and admiring the light from afar. I... lost myself in rage, then, and I left. That is the reason I have not spoken with her since."

He looks down at Auranar with a small smile despite the story. "That is her nature. She is rough and blunt. Her words are like her arrows. She is a Huntress in all things. I will let you do the bulk of the speaking here, as you are my child and it is your quest. I am merely here to ensure you are safe."

The wild elf is silent as Grandfather tells his story, and she finds herself nodding to it as they move along the path he's chosen. She tries to imagine Grandfather in a fit of rage, his kindness turned to anger. For her it is not so easy; having never seen him with such an emotion upon him. Yet she does not doubt his capacity for such. "If she is blunt, then she will be among the only fae that I have heard of that is such." Auranar remarks quietly, then nods. "I will be grateful for your presence Grandfather, the rest I can handle."

She hopes.

GAME: Auranar rolls Perception: (8)+5: 13

The walk goes by for some time. Grandfather's woods are a comforting thing in that Auranar knows these trees, that she hears the gentle calls of the other strange birds and that she sees the leaves, the lack of tracks to or from anywhere, the lack of paths. This is a land where people are supposed to get lost and never find their way to that home that keeps her safe--but she can always find her way. All she has to do is call out to the birds and they will take her for the price of a loving word and a loving hand.

But then they get to the end of _his_ woods. Pip takes flight from Auranar's shoulder and returns back to whence they came, for he knows he is not supposed to be outside his master's domain without orders. He leaves with only a nuzzle of Auranar's hair and a murmured, "Be good," into her ear. But Grandfather remains, his violet eyes trained on the darkening forest that they enter--the foliage canopy above them so thick and clustered that the light has a harder time breaking in.

Unseelie lands.

And there's something that tickles at the back of Auranar's hearing. A snap of a twig.

The bird leaves and Auranar feels oddly bereft in spite of Grandfather's continued presence. She squeezes his hand for comfort. To remind herself that he is there. She feels oddly childlike in this old forest. This forest of people who never age. Who rarely change. It's a strange thing for a woman as long-lived as she is and for one who has so many more years stretched out before her. Yet it is an unshakable feeling of mortality.

The twig snaps and she falls to a stop. Eyes looking around for some sign of the thing she heard. She swallows the sense of nervousness that rises in her throat and spills down her arms and stands proudly. She reminds herself that she is the child of this man at her side; and that there is nothing to fear. She offers a short nod to the empty space before her. "Greetings and salutations to whomever calls this wood home. I would greet you properly; if you are willing to show yourself."

The sound of Auranar's voice rolls out into the woods, and the entity that Auranar had heard is still for a moment longer...

Before a creature like a weasel pokes its head out of foliage on the ground, regarding Auranar with bright silver eyes, before it makes a chattering sound and vanishes back into the leaves.

There's a small smile that spreads across Grandfather's face as he observes Auranar's behavior. "Good, my child," he rumbles appreciatively, his hand gently squeezing her own. "When it comes to dealing with entities in these woods, you must always stand your ground. Predators will respond to beings that act like prey... as prey."

He turns his attention back to the forest, but that's when a light appears in the woods not far from both of them, thirty feet. A flame, a white flame that flickers and almost dances.

"A test. Child, do you know what that is?" Grandfather asks softly.

GAME: Auranar rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (19)+3: 22

Auranar tilts her head at the weasel, but doesn't move until it vanishes. After all, even a weasel in the fae lands might not be a weasel at all. Particularly one with silver eyes. She waits then for a moment, and is glad she does when the will'o'wisp appears dancing in midair. She doesn't hesitate a moment when Grandfather asks what it is. "A will'o'wisp, they often mislead travelers into danger. Though sometimes they can be guides more often they seek the unwary to feed on their fear." She nods politely to the wisp, offering it the full decorum that one might offer to any creature of the fae-wilds.

"Are you a guide?" This is offered more loudly to the wisp, though her words had not been quiet enough to be considered an attempt to go unheard. It would have been rude to speak about the wisp behind its back after all. And it certainly knew its own nature well enough. Particularly since she was almost certain it could understand her.

GAME: Auranar rolls Reflex: (16)+4: 20

_Whoosh_.

It's a burst of wind, and a flurry of Grandfather's hand around hers--and suddenly there's an arrowhead pointed in Auranar's face that's being held by her own hand, Grandfather's talons supporting the hand that clutches it tightly. The arrow is a thing carefully made from a type of wood that feels, strangely, _cold_ to the touch.

An audible huff comes from the trees, followed by the descent of a humanoid form, landing down on the ground with a thud. The will'o'wisp has vanished, and this figure--dressed in a cloak of light brown feathers--rises up. A feminine, slender, and pale face turns to regard Auranar and Grandfather with completely dark eyes, thin strands of auburn waves framing her face as she purses her snow-white lips.

"Walking with one of your children in the woods, Rigan?" she asks in a growled tone, dark eyes going from Grandfather and then down to Auranar. "You've changed. You would have taken the arrow for her."

"This one is different," Grandfather replies in a cool tone. "Introduce yourself, my child."

Admittedly Auranar is surprised by the arrow in her hand. She'd actually not sure if she caught it, or if Grandfather had used her hand to catch it. Maybe both? Now is certainly not the time to ask. She blinks at the arrow and slowly lowers the hand that holds the sharp projectile, but does not released the captured wooden thing. Instead she focuses on the woman who appears from where the will'o'wisp had been. Again she inclines her head, but does not lower her eyes. "You may call me Auranar Lupecyll-Atlon."

She says the words smoothly and without a trace of hesitation, her eyes are slightly narrow on the woman and she's tempted to be a little defensive of the man at her side, but she remembers the warning from her feathered companion before he'd left. 'Be good'. So instead she smiles. "May I have your name?"

There's a moment that passes that's much like the air here in these dark woods: cold. Tense. Overlong, because they are eternal and Auranar is not. The dark eyes on this woman regard Auranar for a long moment, and then her pale lips spread in a thin, but wide smile.

"Have? No. But I appreciate the audacity of you asking. This _is_ a bold one, Rigan." There's a definitive amusement in her voice, a slight twinkle in those jet-black eyes.

"Why do you think I am fond of her?" Grandfather replies with his own huff and a smile. "I treat her differently because she is a warrior-in-training, not a prized doll to be hidden away at home."

"Mmm." The words from Grandfather cause the woman to straighten up and walk closer. Her stride is closer to a predatory walk, something feline in the motions even if she wears a cloak of feathers. Auranar can see beneath the long cloak, she wears some manner of leathered armor, and the longbow that peeks out is immaculately carved, a variety of runes and lines chiseled into the pale brown wood.

Finally, she stops short of Auranar, leaning down--as the woman is quite tall--and regards her with those jet-black eyes. "Call me Alba," she says. "So you are a warrior, then."

The asking had in fact had the intended reaction. Auranar had not in fact had any thought that she might win the woman's name by merely asking it, but it had been a note that she was in her way every bit as wise and wily as the fae themselves, and it seemed that it had earned her perhaps a very meager amount of respect. That would only make things more dangerous in their way she was sure, but a total lack of respect would be worse.

Grandfather calls her a warrior and she feels the tips of her ears burn with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. "The greatest weapon is knowledge, and it is my weapon of choice." She smiles again, her eyes burning with intensity. "I have come to you in the hopes of gaining some small weapon to use against one that I believe to be a common foe."

The next words that leaves her are direct, but she needs to see the reaction that they bring to this woman before her. "You may know him as the Corpse Eater." Her smile is suddenly and completely gone.

The smile falls completely from the fey woman's lips, and she draws herself back up to her full height, staring down at Auranar. The jet-black eyes are hard to discern much of anything from, given that there's no sclera, no iris, nothing besides the void--but somehow they are as cold and hard as the grimace that is on her thin lips.

"The Corpse-Eater is not just my foe," she says. "He is my _enemy_. He took everything from me, and I will do the same to him. But here is no place for talking."

She turns on her heels and gestures with a hand for them to follow. Grandfather looks down at Auranar, leans into her ear, and murmurs a fond, "Good, now keep it up," there before he begins to walk with her, still not letting go of her hand.

The structure that Tyto'albana leads them to is... not a structure at all. It's a small cave, likely one that's existed for eons, and within its large chamber, Alba has made for herself a small living space. A bedroll, a space for fletching, and tools for leatherworking. Beyond that, there is precious little. "This is where I rest," Albana explains. "I have nothing to offer you save for a shelter. I apologize, as I do not receive visitors and am not in the habit of them."

There's something in Grandfather's face as he inspects the place. But he keeps quiet for the moment.

Auranar doesn't even dare breathe her relief, but the rage in those dark - completely black - eyes is responded to with an echo of her own. The Corpse Eater had not taken everything from her - but he had tried. His failure did not lessen her anger. Did not make him any less guilty. She knew that she was only lucky. That she'd been spared only for further torment later.

She follows Alba resolutely, constantly checking their surroundings, but not enough to lose herself. Trust was a hard earned thing, and though they had a common enemy, she could not quite trust Alba just yet. To do so would be foolish beyond words.

The cave is given a once-over as well and she feels a sort of empathy with the woman. This could have very easily become her own life. A thing of solitude. A war with an enemy that would probably outlive her. She turns her attention back to Alba and nods politely. "Shelter is offer enough." She says gently. "Though I think not all that we might be able to exchange. You have been hunting the Rook for some time."

This much is obvious. "You must have some sense of him by now." She doesn't sit - she's not been offered a seat. "If you know something - perhaps I can offer something in turn that will help lead to his eradication."

Alba takes a seat on her bedroll. "Sit wherever you may desire," she gestures to the chamber. Not that there is much to sit on save for the floor.

Grandfather, however, does a thing Auranar has never seen him do. He takes the feather cloak off of his body, revealing shapely, slightly muscular arms that are the same color as the rest of his skin, although the skin towards his talons grows progressively more black like a gradient of ink spilled across his gray-pale skin. He rests the feather cloak onto the floor and gestures for Auranar to take a seat on it, as he, himself, does.

"I've been observing the Corpse-Eater," Albana replies to Auranar as she watches this unfolding of cloaks. "Since the day my spouse died and he consumed his corpse, I have been tracking him. Observing his movements. Trying to establish a pattern. He knows, likely, that I am tracking him. He kept me alive because he relishes the fact that I am in anguish over... what happened."

Her thin lips press together into an even tighter line. "This would not have happened if your 'Grandfather' had finished the job," she growls.

GAME: Auranar rolls Sense Motive: (5)+3: 8

Auranar takes the seat that is offered - first by Alba - and then given by Grandfather. She settles onto his cloak, her gained arrow tucked into the folds of her skirt. A secret pocket. Her hand comes out empty. She listens intently to the words that Alba offers. There's confirmation in her observations. That this woman is perhaps even more intent on the destruction of the Corpse Eater than she herself is. But restrained by his knowledge of her intent. It is hard to hunt prey that knows of your presence.

The last words that Alba offers do not make her look at her Grandfather but rather she remains intent on Alba. "Finished the job?" She inquires gently.

"She refers to when I beat the Rook for imposing on my realm and terrorizing my wife, your Grandmother," Grandfather replies, the guilt written all over his face. "I could have forced him into an oath that encompassed more than myself, my beloved, and my home. I could have tried to kill him outright. Your Grandmother kept a cold iron dagger in the house in the event of a dire circumstance, although she did not have the capacity to wield it as effectively as I might have. Instead--I made him swear the oath and let him slip away--"

"And he did," Alba responds with a quiet growl at the edge of her words. "To turn his sights to new targets. He found myself and my lovely Raeli. And because we were happy, he began to pit us against each other. Because we were happy, he began to make us doubt our own reality. When I slit Raeli's throat, I did so with the full conviction that it was him impersonating my warm sun. Only for him to walk in, only for him to grin at me as I realized I'd killed my spouse--and then he compelled me out of the house with that aura of dread, and..."

Her hand slams down into her bedroll. "There is one thing," she says, once she's recovered herself. "He is almost fully disinterested in people who are at their most miserable. They cannot provide him anything more than 'a quick meal'. Beyond that? You have an advantage that neither of us have. Mortals are able to wield cold iron without it burning and tearing at their own flesh."

Auranar nods once at the confirmation again. It is good to know that these events are connected as they are. She doesn't ask why Grandfather hadn't killed the Rook. He's a kind man, and as wrathful as he must have been, that kindness had let him think that his enemy would take his beating and learn from it. None of them could turn back time and tell Grandfather of the horrors that would await for those that the Rook would hurt in the future.

The wild elf shifts uncomfortably and eyes the woman before her. "I have an... Idea. An intent, and a way of perhaps luring the Corpse Eater." A slight smile here. "I am in fact, in spite of many trials as happy as I have ever been in my life, and to enhance my joy... I will shortly be returned to the one I love. I intend to have a party and invite my family to share this joy with me."

She licks her lips then. "I doubt the Rook is unwise enough to come to such, but shortly after... When I think I am safe. He will surely take his chance then... If he cares anything about me at all." Now she eyes Alba. "Can you take another form Alba?" An almost casual question.

A sly smirk crosses Alba's face. "I like you," she says in a rumble. "This is a fine opportunity. Yes, I can take another form. I'm able to blend into the owls of Alexandria as..."

Here, she peers at Grandfather. "What is the word in the mortal tongue?" she asks.

"Barn owl," Grandfather replies. His taloned hand goes gently to Auranar's shoulder, an affectionate gesture.

"Yes, that," Alba responds. "I would be more than happy to aid you in this ambush."

"Then." Auranar smiles grimly, her own black eyes sharp. "Why, no one would be surprised if I returned to Alexandria with an owl familiar. A bird with ties to Grandfather's companions. An animal of wisdom to guide me in what I seek. Then all we need do is wait." The feeling of Grandfather's hand makes her feel bold, but she tempers that with the knowledge of the potential foolishness of her attempt to act as a lure.

"We can, we _will_ bring an end to this creature Alba." She takes a breath. "To further this act, I will wait a few days and then go into the woods to call my familiar. We should assume he is always watching from then on. Just to be safe."

Alba tilts her head, which is a rather appropriate gesture in how owlish it is. "Familiar? You would have me act as--"

"It is common for mortals who practice magic to have familiars," Grandfather explains coolly to Alba. "Auranar's sister has a familiar who is a raven. I, myself, posed primarily as a familiar to enter the city of Alexandria on the mortal plane to visit her. There is a ward that prevents the summoning of entities of other creatures. It is... an inconvenience, but no one will question your guise."

This draws a disgruntled noise out of Albana, who looks back at Auranar. "I much dislike this notion of pretending to be subservient to a mortal," she says. "But for the sake of the plan, I will. In the meantime, I am curious. What combat capabilities do you possess, little warrior?"

"I would in no way expect you to act subservient to me." Auranar offers, not hastily, but to provide clarification. "Though I know it might still gall to consider a mortal equal, that is more a relationship that I could comfortably offer."

With this clarified, she takes a breath. "I have no great skill with sword or blade, but with bow I have some experience." She nods here and then meets Alba's eyes. "My talent lies in the arcane arts. I do not have the same skill that my sister has, but I have this." She taps her head.

"Furthermore, because he _expects_ me to be weak, because he _expects_ me to be venerable; compared to the strength of those whom I surround myself with - he will be sorely surprised when I am not the woman that I once was. This alongside your aid I have hope will be his undoing." Here she fixes Alba with a firm gaze. "I told you at the outset that knowledge is my weapon of choice. I mean to bleed him dry with his own ignorance."

Grandfather's smile widens on his face, his hand on Auranar's shoulder a gentle and careful squeeze of approval with her fiery words. It's clear from the slow blink of Alba's dark eyes that she was not expecting this fervor in words from the mortal, and she turns to Grandfather.

"She reminds me of your wife," Alba says, in a quiet sort of astonishment, before she looks at Auranar and adds, "You are as feisty as she was. Stubborn, too. I always liked those about her."

"It runs in the family," Grandfather replies with a knowing smirk and another affectionate squeeze of his hand on Auranar's shoulder.

"Apparently," Alba replies, not taking her eyes off Auranar. She studies the wild elf for a moment more before she says, "If you so wish, I could train you in the bow. I am adept at my own sort of magic and can teach you how to unify the two. Especially where he knows not of how you hunt _now_, it may the best time for these sort of lessons. Especially where I know your 'Grandfather' might be too soft-hearted in the discussion of killing."

Flushing slightly with praise, and glad of her dark skin to hide the majority of it, Auranar smiles a little at the woman. Grandfather's hand is a welcome thing as well. A reminder that she _is_ family. There are times in the days - how many days - that she forgets that she was not born to this blood. She's spent enough time in his care, has so many memories of him, that it has all but washed away what feels almost like another life.

"Any skill you can teach me would be valuable. I will not turn you down. Though we will have little time for it." Here she looks to the ceiling here as if she can see the sky - though that would hardly help tell the time here. "If I learn too much, if I seem too strong he may not try himself against me. It is a careful balance that I must maintain."

"Then I will endeavor to give you only enough for him to think you are weak in capability," Alba says with a small smirk finding her pale lips. "He can't measure the strength of your canny mind."

She makes a gesture to the mouth of the cave. "I will find you at Rigan's home," she tells Auranar. "Until then, you should spend time with that Grandfather of yours."

Grandfather rises from the feather cloak, interpreting a dismissal from the gesture and from Alba's words. "Let us go home, my child," he says affectionately to Auranar. "I do not wish to be out of our woods overlong."

Sensing the same dismissal Auranar rises to her feet with a short nod and then glances out of the cave a moment before turning toward the woman. She's careful not to step on Grandfather's cloak. "Would you mind very much throwing a few things after us? Perhaps calling Grandfather or myself a few choice names?" She smiles in a flash of teeth. "Just to be safe of course. I doubt he would risk closeness to your home, but... I would rather him not know of our alliance."

With this said she offers something of a curtsy to the woman and then prepares to make haste out of the cave - once Grandfather has his cloak of course.

Grandfather returns the feathered cloak to his shoulders and smirks just a little. "That is not a bad idea," he says. "In the event that he is watching, of course."

"An excuse to hurl swears at Rigan? A rare opportunity," Alba responds with an evil little smirk. She rises to her feet, and...

Well, she certainly delivers on the obscenities, delivered all entirely in Sylvan in a bellowed, angry tone. Some of them do translate a little into Sildanyari, although the words are things like "goat" and "boar" and, curiously enough, "navel"...? One has to wonder what that one translated into.

Either way, it isn't long before Grandfather rushes with Auranar back out into the woods again, and his arm is around her as he offers a quiet, but affectionate, "Shall we, then?"

-End