bloodandaschers (bloodandaschers) wrote in pastarillius, @ 2008-03-19 18:23:00 |
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Who: Lira & Dayon Ascher
When: A few months after the creation of the Ascher Primers.
Where: Thadius, Beyond: The Ascher Manor
What: Dayon has been eluding her sister for years, but now believes it is time to face her again. The Death of Dayon.
Warnings && Ratings: PG-13; Blood and Death.
Lira and her assassins quit following her after the fifth winter. Only after she’d faked her own death and used what powers and allies she could muster to force a helpless soul across in her place. This had to be done and the woman that had given her life had been honored appropriately. She was buried and blessed with as much love as Dayon could possibly muster for it was her sacrifice that had saved her life. Granted, it was only Lira’s arrogance that led her to believe that Dayon was actually dead and, for once, she was absolutely thankful that the younger sister was the way she was. Dayon could not stop her sister, but she knew exactly how many winters had passed since she’d fled from their last battle. Thirteen. Thirteen cold, harsh winters. Thirteen dry and dusty summers. Thirteen springs without seeing the flowers about her family home in bloom. Thirteen autumns spent in hiding, just waiting for her sister to finally realize that she was still alive. So many years wasted, but not again. Dayon had practiced and learned. She’d worked and pushed herself. Now it was time to right the wrongs that had been committed. Whispers had drifted to her on the winds and rains. Whispers of demons and how Lira had forced her family into service beneath them. In return for more power than she could truly wield, Lira had forced her ever expanding family into slavery. Lira’s headstrong attitude and carelessness needed to be put to an end so that the rest of her family, Dayon’s own nieces and nephews, could be free again. The woman slid through the shadows, so adept at hiding because of her loving sister, and sought out an entrance to the home that was not their own. It was a symbol of slavery and the symbol of a bond that should have never been forged. A symbol of what was at stake. Dayon found an open window and slid inside quietly. Unlike her sister, she had no followers. She had no people trailing her every step and answering her every beck and call. No, Dayon was alone and held no real plan in her head. There was only the dagger she carried on her person and the idea was to drive it deep into the heart of her sister to free this new and extended family from their curse. Put Lira back into her place or die, but it was better to end life on her own terms than that of her sister’s. She could hear the people moving about the upstairs of this new home and the bitterness of her situation finally crept upon her thoughts. Lira was living a life that Dayon should have at least been allowed to be a part of. The younger sister slid carefully down the hall, her feet barely making any noise as she searched through the rooms for Lira. A great number of people were sleeping, but a few were awake and moving upstairs. She kept her breathing slow and steady as she rounded a corner carefully. Didn’t very well need someone to surprise her before she could see her dear sister again. Lira was again in the altar room of her home. Her mind was on the task in front of her. She was so focused that she could not feel the familiar presence of the power that belonged to her sister. Her quill was working quickly across the blank pages of her family’s new history, the room smelling faintly of the blood used to create the magical ink she smattered across the pages. She brushed the end of her crow’s feather quill across her lips as she tried to decide upon her next tale. “I should have re-written these book ages ago.” She seemed inspired again and dipped the quill back down into the inkwell so she could continue. Dayon watched her sister from the darkened doorway, her eyes on the book in front of the other woman. What was she doing? Well, whatever it was reeked of magic and she had to be up to no good. The younger sister drew her blade from her back and held it in her hand, unsure if she could really do the deed or not. Even through all these evil things, they were still sisters. But could that bond wash away the years of fear and anger? No. Better she finish this now than allow Lira’s madness to continue to consume all those around her. She crept forward and took feather-light steps in hopes that her sister would not hear. Maybe, just maybe, she was too deeply involved in her writing that she would fail to notice someone creeping so close? Highly unlikely, but Dayon hadn’t expected to live much longer anyway. “Dayon,” Lira finished up a sentence before she finally set everything aside and looked up at her sister. There was a smug smile playing across her lips and she stepped away from her place at the altar. “You know it’s rude to come calling without sending word ahead of you. You’ve surprised me with this visit and now I have no grave prepared. Such a pity.” Dayon pushed her hood back from her dirty face and stood as if she was a small animal caught within a live trap. Her mind raced to find all the exits, but her body stood rigid and readied itself for a battle. Thankfully, Lira had no weapon. In this case, the quill would not be mightier than the sword. “Lira,” she offered a soft word to her sister as she watched her. “Doing well, I see.” They were too far apart for her to strike. They would need to be closer if she wanted to finish this. Again, Lira smiled and took a few more steps away from the altar. She started to make a wide semi-circle about her sister and tried to put herself between Dayon and the door. “Yes,” she wanted to show her sister just how well she was doing, but resisted the urge. Her family was moving toward achieving such great power. Power that Dayon could never had achieved if she had taken the mantle. “The family blooms under my leadership. With you, it would’ve only stagnated and died.” Dayon moved with Lira’s steps and hovered closer to the altar. She was interested in what her sister was writing, but her eyes never left Lira. The scent of blood finally filled her nose and she wanted to gag. What was this her darling elder sister doing? It was too disgusting to think that she might be writing with human blood. Why blood? Oh, she knew. Blood magic was binding magic – so strong that it was immensely hard to break and destroy. “Writing in your diary?” Her hand sought out the book while she watched her sister and she pulled it from the altar so that she could look over the words. They were something like the words of her mother’s journal, but they were twisted and wrong. “Or are you fabricating fairy tales for your children?” She closed the book in her hand and held onto it. Power seemed to drip from it, but it was a filthy, twisted kind of power. Something vile that needed to be destroyed. “Oh, these are more than just fairy tales, little sister,” Lira stepped forward, spirits whispering of Dayon’s weapon and her ideas. They had followed her. They knew she was alive. Lira was just waiting for the day that she would reappear and let herself be known. She raised a hand and Dayon thrust her dagger outward to stop her advance. “What unholy thing have you become?” Power surged through her. It was nothing like her mother’s magic and nothing like the elf that was her father. It was a dark kind of power that made the younger sister want to vomit. “Not unholy, Dayon,” Lira thrust her hand forward and placed it over her sister’s heart. “Beautiful.” Dayon eventually tried to fight her sister off. She tried to sink that dagger into her heart, but she could not. She could not kill her blood, her sister. The younger sister’s body was enveloped in an intense pain. The smell of rotting flesh filled her nose and she fell to her knees. She’d failed in her task and, again, Lira had won. She was the more powerful sister and she carried that smug feeling on within her newly written histories. Dayon would be dead and there would be no one to stop her from carrying on this slavery. Lira again smirked as she stood over her sister, “What better way for you to join our mother than to die the same as she did? Rotting from the outside in - your body decaying before your mind has the privilege to die.” She kneeled down to run a hand across her cheek softly, “Goodbye, Dayon.” Lira stood and left Dayon alone in the altar room. She would send others to clean up the mess later, but she wanted the young woman to die a lonely death. Dayon screamed as her sister left her and prayed quietly to her mother, hoping that she or her father would hear. She would never truly be alone as they were always with her in her heart – her mother, father, and brothers. They would always be with her no matter how alone she felt. Her body hurt and the scent of her body decaying finally did make her vomit. She spit the revolting bits from her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting on death. That contemptible book was still clutched in her hands and its magic seemed to poison her wounds just as Lira was going to poison the minds of her children and grandchildren. But it was Dayon who would have the final say and revenge. She was not going to allow her sister to twist their lives into a puppet show for her own amusement. The sister dug her dagger into her hand and ran the bloody hand over the cover of the tome. If it was blood magic that was being used to create this monster then it was what blood magic she could muster that she would use to destroy it. What she understood and Lira didn’t was that magic itself was such an impersonal thing. She and Lira were of the same blood and it would not know the difference between the two. Dayon forced some Elvish words from her mouth as her sister’s curse started to creep about her face and rot away her lips. Her body flexed wildly and finally expired, but her blood sank into the book. Lira might have written the words, but it was Dayon who sealed the magic with her very soul. Her living spirit altered it from a permanent record to one that would grow and change as it was handled by the generations. It and its sister books would all share of this power and form their own identities, each one to be passed down among Lira’s four children as they were used to train the next generation of Aschers. |