nomorekaraoke: (Lord Vayan)
[personal profile] nomorekaraoke
When human children grow up, they learn a few basic truths from their loved ones. Don't talk to strangers - a notion they seem to harbor deep in their darkest recesses even as very small children. Don't go out after dark. Always be good, or your bad deeds will come back to haunt you.

When Lord Vayan was a very young cub, he learned another set of basic truths. Praise Ahm. Family and home before yourself. Trust in the Will and the Word.

On this night of nights, almost exactly when the clock strikes twelve, all the lights go out in Central Park. The air grows heavy over the turtle pond, and within seconds it is covered in a thick layer of mist. Layer upon layer, the wisps of gray dance in the air as if to an otherworldly tune, and through it comes a small procession. At the very front, two flag bearers lead the way, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. They need no light to guide them on this night, their master has laid out their path in plain speech on many nights prior. He moves in their midst, tallest of them all, his eyes burning brightest, for he sees all things that they cannot. He knows the Word, and his Will is theirs to honor.

They move from pond to earth, the mist lingering, clinging to their bare feet and paws as they move through the park - beyond the castle - to their intended destination.

With poise and determination, they move as one to the statue of the King known as Jagiello.

"A King's honor, for the path set in motion," they murmur as one; their Master says nothing. Their chant is his boon. "For the door to open. For the Reunion.

"Ahm willing!" The flag bearers exclaim into the darkness, and their equals respond.


"Ahm's will be done!"

Date: 2009-01-25 05:33 am (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (assassins)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
Darkness and mist may conceal the small party from prying eyes. But there are those who use senses other than sight to find their quarry; and the darkness and the mist hide them as well.

Shadow moves through shadow, soundless. There; no, there.

No. There.

Above the raised double swords of the statue vaults a lithe figure shrouded in black, drawing two swords of its own in mid-leap and landing in a crouch precisely between the two flag bearers.

There is a long, shocked beat of utter stillness, a frozen tableau. The first movement to break it is that of the right-hand flag bearer, raising one hand slowly -- almost dreamily -- to his throat.

Black blood spills out from between his fingers, and both bearers crumple to the ground in smooth unison.

Date: 2009-02-08 04:28 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (assassins)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
The black-clad figure makes another leap, arching gracefully backwards in midair like the leap of a dolphin, neatly evading Lord Vayan's blades. It lands on its feet in time to parry the next thrust, and the ring of steel on steel sounds like a bell in the night.

There are more than half a dozen of Vayan's people, and only one attacker. It shouldn't be possible for it to defend itself against all of them; it certainly shouldn't be possible for it to be attacking at the same time. Nonetheless, first one and then another of the House Varadeem warriors reels back wounded.

(Not dead. They're not the attacker's target. They're just in the way.)

Date: 2009-02-11 01:11 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (assassins)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
Far too evenly matched for the attacker's taste, and it means something's got to be done about the distractions.

The next one of Vayan's retinue to spring into the fray goes down and doesn't get back up.

Date: 2009-02-13 12:53 am (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (assassins)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
The figure in black moves light and lithe, retreating one step and then another from the leonine lord and his remaining warriors. It's on the defense now, rather than on the attack; something about its body language suggests that perhaps, just perhaps, there's fear there.

Fear draws the eye like light, in a battle like this. And like light, it can blind the eye to what's in the shadows.

The second black-clad figure rises like mist from the ground, its sword moving with silent, deadly swiftness for Lord Vayan's unprotected back.

Date: 2009-02-13 12:59 am (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
The clang resounds across the pond as the second assassin's blade meets another weapon, interposed between it and its target.

Neither of the fighters in black has expected there to suddenly be a third. This one's face is visible, pale and intent over the flapping black wings of a leather coat, and it's his sword that's turned back the blow that would otherwise have left Vayan severely wounded or dead.

And he hasn't come alone.

Date: 2009-02-16 07:24 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
There's the man in the black coat; there's a pale-haired man in a similar coat, and a dark-skinned man with an axe, and (more on the edges of the fight than in the thick of it) a shorter man with untidy light-brown hair, aiming some sort of gun.

He doesn't have a chance to use it. The fight is swiftly over, and both of the attackers lie dead.

The quiet of the Park at night closes back in.

Date: 2009-02-16 08:36 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
The pale-haired one turns away, muffling a snort of laughter at the flat look on the leader's face.

"Angel," that one says, deliberately without any flourish of drama. "Spike," he adds, pointing to the other men in turn, "Gunn, Andrew. And who would you be?"

Date: 2009-02-16 08:58 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (shadowed)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"Notorious," says the shorter human -- Andrew -- moving closer to Angel's side, "as is the ... rarefied courtesy of a lord of the Rrhayaowr. I make your clan either Varadeem or Tiothes, is it not so?"

(The word rarefied has two shades of meaning: exalted in character, or reserved for a small and select group. It's the right word, either way.)

Date: 2009-02-16 09:27 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (shadowed)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"I am a scholar, my lord," he says with a half-bow. "It is my work and my calling in life to learn such things, in the service of my masters and of the long battle. I can also," this with a glance at Angel, "act as the mouthpiece for the Champion I serve, whom the Powers have chosen to favor with courage and valor beyond his eloquence."

This time Spike's snort is audible. "Got that right," he mutters.

Date: 2009-02-16 09:58 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
That might be pain in Angel's expression. Or it might just be irritation.

"I hope you'll excuse being a little more direct," he says evenly, "but we were sent here for a reason tonight, and we still have to work out what it is. Do you know who they are?" Gesturing at the bodies of the attackers.

Date: 2009-02-16 10:13 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (sober)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"It was not chance that brought the Champion to your aid, Lord Vayan," Andrew speaks up. "One of our number, who alas was unable to join us here, is a Seer."

He says it with such confidence, you'd never know that it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet since Jonathan's first vision.

"He saw your face, and this statue." Waving a hand at the bronze king on his pedestal. "And we knew it was a message from the Powers that Be, that there would be one here in need of our aid. Ahm willing."

Date: 2009-02-16 10:43 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
Angel knows, at least, how to receive such a token with a warrior's courtesy; he's starting to say something when a startled exclamation from behind Lord Vayan interrupts him.

Spike's tugged the glove off one of the dead assassins, and is holding up its limp hand. "Here's a bit of Old Home Days. Take a look."

The corpse is wearing a ring with an entirely too familiar sigil.

"The Order of Taraka," Angel mutters.

Date: 2009-03-01 07:27 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (neutral)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"My lord Vayan, uh --"

For a moment Andrew's having trouble framing the question properly, and it's arguably an insolent question even without the added insult of speaking carelessly.

"The Champion would know more, if it pleases you, of the story that has led us to this night. Of those who seek your death, and their reasons." At the demon lord's narrow glance, he adds hastily "It need not, of course, be told this moment."

Or, um, at all, he has to stop himself from adding. Backing down might feel like the prudent thing to do, but showing throat to a Rrhayaowr demon is a bad idea.

Date: 2009-03-01 07:55 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (standing ground)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
There's a short sharp silence. Angel's head comes up, and the other three move closer to him; it's unconscious, the collective bristling and drawing together, but no less visible for that.

"The Champion serves the Powers that Be," Andrew says evenly. "Should you have the need for his aid in future, it is at their will that he should come."

Half a beat.

"Ahm willing."

Date: 2009-03-01 08:27 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (telling you)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
He tries not to slump visibly with relief; it'll undo whatever status he, and thus Angel, might have gained just now.

Instead he turns to Angel himself, and lowers his voice. "Okay, um. We want to stick around and see what else we can find out, or head back to HQ?" The significant glance he adds to that is, he hopes, enough to convey ...and see what else we can find out there?

Date: 2009-03-01 08:34 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
Angel doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all, letting Andrew be his mouthpiece, but they agreed to it beforehand once they identified the breed of demon from Jonathan's sketch.

But he's come to rely on Andrew and Jonathan almost as much as he ever relied on Wesley in LA, and for the same basic practical reason: they tend to know what they're talking about.

"We'll go back," he says, quietly (and aware that the furry ears under those manes can probably hear him anyway). "Make our goodbyes, would you?"

Date: 2009-03-01 08:58 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
Angel nods deeply, and Andrew mouths a few flowery phrases with Ahm willing in there somewhere, and the team makes good its departure.



As they emerge onto Fifth Avenue next to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Angel says flatly "Okay. What are we looking for."

Date: 2009-03-01 09:00 pm (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (serious 1)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"They were there for a ritual of some kind," Andrew says immediately. "But I'd need to hit the books again before I could tell you what it was supposed to accomplish."

Date: 2009-03-01 09:03 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Gunn)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
"And once we know that," says Gunn, "maybe it'll shed a little light on why someone might be trying to kill him."

Date: 2009-03-01 09:03 pm (UTC)
sunnydalealum: (Angel)
From: [personal profile] sunnydalealum
"Right."

Angel frowns fiercely at nothing in particular.

"And maybe why the Powers that Be wanted us to save him."

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