« on: August 13, 2006, 10:50:59 PM »
As found within the historical vaults located deep within the Keep of Gharnholme, dated some 100 years before present day:
[size=14]Meeting him again face to face had been a shock to say the least. She had hidden it well, behind the cold reserved mask that was her normal expression, but the inner turmoil was still felt and controlled with an iron fist. If he even remembered, she couldn't even tell, with his features hidden behind that scarf and the cold glowing red eyes didn't offer much in the way of recognition.
"Ah, Lord DeAuster, please meet my Head Tarn. Fiona DeWil." Lord Brutin said lazily with a casual wave of his hand. The dark haired man was in his usual place within the Slaver's Association Hall, and holding court as she often thought in her mind. Sprawled out in that casually elegant way of his that many woman were drawn into, much like a beautiful web and he the large exotic spider just waiting to leap and capture.
There was an exchange of short nods and little more and she was moving away, feeling the clammy sensation of skin under the leather of her gloves. To look at her, none would even know she was shaken up. Indeed, she maintained her chilly demeanor with amazing skill.
Taking up her position behind Brutin, as was her normal mode of behavior, she fell to stony silence, often becoming part of the furniture, while around her conversation flowed. Brutin didn't expect her to speak, as it simply wasn't something she bothered with, but her ice green eyes kept a constant vigil. Shifting about and taking in locations of various individuals, except this day, she found her gaze drawn like a magnet to him. She had heard the rumors of course. The stories of the Death Knight even reaching the distant realms of Zymire and she even knew that his marriage had been pre-maturely aborted. In a way it was rather a curious form of Karma returning, at least she had comforted herself at such a frivolous thoughts
Fact of it was, when she had caught word of his death, she had actually grieved, to the point even her father had noticed, but to this day didn't understand why. She had never spoken about the only lover she had ever had. Her private life was as carefully guarded as her emotions now and few knew much including those closest to her.
That brief fling so long ago had taught her a very valuable lesson, one she had taken with great attention and had not allowed anyone else even close enough since. Every one that had tried had been held at a pointed distance and the more insistent felt the sharp end of her dagger. She had given of her body and her heart only once and been played the fool, and has sworn to never allow herself to be duped from that day when he had told her it was over and the heart ripping reasons why.
A moment and their eyes clashed again, hers frosty as a winter morning and his narrowing behind the dark cloth covering much of gray features. She still could sense any emotion behind the stare, just felt the waves of chill washing from him. She had a moment to mourn the loss of beautiful dove gray eyes but quickly squelched it before turning away with a thinning of rose pale lips and a snaking slide of a single thick black braid.
Already, feelings she had long thought dust were stirring up and she wasn't amused by it. Caught staring was one sign she was slipping and she sought to get a hold of herself. At her side the dagger hissed softly, calling a hand to stroke lightly against the black hilt and she mentally stilled its complaint. Garith was picking up on her mood and responding in his normal way.
Memories she sought to bury started to break free, floating up on the surface of her mind like bubbles from a deep, dark lake. It angered her, so she caught back a low growl only to hear the words she sorely dreaded. "DeAuster there will be with working with you Fiona." Her employer informed her and she found her jaw aching with sudden and bone jarring tension. Her eyes narrowed for only a microsecond before she gave a short nod to Brutin. To say anything at this point would only create questions she simply wouldn't answer. The man was already curious enough without adding more reasons for him to dig and prod.
He had changed quite drastically. The vitality he once displayed, with the almost pure light that both drew and repulsed her was now gone. Leaving in its wake a chilling aura. He was no longer of the living and yet he still walked, carried onwards by some unknown force she didn't recognize. What motivated him now was a guess, but she suspected it might very well be hate. Yet while much of the man she knew was gone, she could sense that a vast amount remained, hidden behind the mask of ruin.
Her "New" partner just stood near the door with his arms folded and said not a single word. As silent as a tomb he was and she couldn't sense a damn thing from him, which was galling for one of her nature. Brutin of course was emitting his delight in heavy waves, having managed some sort of coup getting the Death Knight into his employ but for her, a job she was generously paid to do had just become her own personal nightmare.
Thankfully it was one of the slower nights, with just others of the Association dropping by to touch base with the "Big Man". None of the typical heroes seeking to save some gibbering featherheads from they're enslavement, or any of this competition strolling in to make trouble and banter. In some ways she resented that, for it would have been something to take her mind of the thoughts she really didn't wish to brood upon and on the other hand, all she wanted to do was escape his presence.
Over the course of that evening, she heard from the rasping hollow voice he now had, as he spoke with Brutin that he was also a slave owner and could only think with wry irony just how low the pious do fall, and yet even that gave her a twinge of conscious. Knowing that somehow some way, she might be responsible for what had befallen him.
Forcefully shifting her thoughts away from such paths she was soon thinking it curious. She had worked as an assassin and still did on rare occasions, taking the odd job here and there. She had been an enforcer for one family here, and then another, and had even worked under the directions of a few Kindred clans. She was for the most part, comfortably well off, no longer needing to hold a job for support, but did so by choice. Something to keep her busy and her skills well honed. She held high rank with two guilds and stood in battle for them even now and was allowing one haunt from her past shake her usual serene calm. Had she met him again in all her previous jobs she may not be as surprised as she was now. Of all places to again meet, the Slavers hall wasn't one she ever would have imagined.
Thoughts drew a faintly satirical smile on her soft lips briefly as she waited the time until Brutin would turn in and managed reasonably well to control the direction of her thoughts. She refused to allow them to dip into the waters of the passionate couplings they had shared, but kept them more to the innocuous. She barely spoke and just remained as still as Lucius was in her position behind Lord Brutin. Thinking the night was wearing on much slower, or perhaps it was the tension weighing upon her that just made it seem endlessly long and tiring.
Emotions she had hoped were gone from her, having spent years of time binding them down were all suddenly alive and pushing at her mental restraints and she was feeling some resentment over that. This one man whose mere presence was rattling the foundation of all her training, was simply unacceptable, but she could not even let on the effects, for to do so, would show a weakness. A crack in the ice she encased herself with and this she simply could not allow to be seen. [/size]