Post by Aria Talei on Dec 28, 2010 18:27:55 GMT -5
So the Werewolves have discovered that their Ambassador has been attacked, the first part of the Vampires' plan. Now, Aria is about to discover the other part.
IF you REALLY want to join, go for it, but this sort of is just a way to acknowledge that the massacre at Yina was discovered by somebody.
- - - - -
Something was wrong.
It had been almost two days since Ambassador Aria Talei had returned to Feryn, bringing with her seven of her kin and halfhearted promises from another five. Two of them were female- one a hard-faced, grim looking older woman with the form of a weathered lioness, the other an adventurous freelancer who liked the thought of adventure, her form a bobcat. Of the other five, one was an old man (a panther) who had seen too many winters, another an egotistical jaguar who thought himself invincible, a cheetah (which wouldn't help much in battle), and a shrewd lynx who had only come along because of the promise of payment. The jaguar, by the name of Kitkun, hadn't stopped pestering Aria the entire way, and she had finally made the short journey to Yina to have some time alone.
Even before she reached the edge of the petrified trees, however, a heavy, choking scent filled the air. Stiffening, she hesitated, even her weaker Human senses overloaded. A fire? A ceremonial fire wouldn't be that large...and no incense smelled like that.
Suddenly fearful, the Ambassador touched one of her small blades at her hip before breaking into a run, ignoring the small scratches she gained from the twigs that scratched at her form shoulder height. The forest began to thin, and before the Werecat had fully mentally prepared herself, she stumbled out into the plains that had once been her sacred ground.
It was deathly quiet. Many trees were left standing, living marble relics that stood regally still over the flat ground, but in the distance the ground was dark and scarred. Her eyes and nose burning, and being immediately grateful she hadn't shifted, Aria picked her way forward, unable to pull her gaze away from the gruesome scene below.
Bodies were everywhere. Torn, scorched, and mutilated, some eyes still wide and mouths agape with silent shrieks, corpses were strewn unceremoniously about, some the faces of children. At the edge of the carnage Aria stopped, pressed a hand to her mouth, glanced around helplessly. There wasn't another in sight- the thick smell of fire and death had erased the scent of the culprits- but she had recognized many of the faces in the crowd. Children and parents, who often stayed in Feryn until their young had matured, stared blankly back at her. Trembling fiercely from head to foot, she sank to the ground, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her vision swimming with angry, horrified tears.
Why? she thought; she felt detached, as if watching the scene through the eyes of another. It didn't feel real, her mind having attempted to protect her from the devastating reality. Not wanting to, but knowing she must, Aria reached for her gift, and shifted into the tigress, her anxiety making the transformation more difficult than usual.
The barrage of overpowering scents that assailed her made her physically recoil, one large paw swiping at her nose. Blinking several times, she carefully skirted the bodies, slowly investigating each one. Here, the scents beneath death and fire were faint, but distinguishable.
Werecat, though she had recognized most, some that she had not, most likely on a pilgrimage, were identified as more of her kind. Strangely there were a few wolves, as well- but as Aria went back to double check the victims, the smoky scent of dog clung to the dead, as well.
It was a battle, she realized in sick awe. No- a massacre. The dead wolves must have fallen in the fight. Sitting down, she shifted back, crossing her arms over her knees and linking her fingers. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but her face was stony- she felt numb. Never, not in the centuries past of Werewars, had the mongrels sank this low, gone as far as to desecrate a land they both found sacred. In the face of it, Ambassador Talei had no idea of what to do- she supposed she would find Chey- but for the moment remained where she was, golden eyes distant, staring down at the death but not really seeing it.
Sometime later, Aria drifted back to earth. Getting to her feet, concentrating on the hollow buzzing that had entered her head, and trying to keep her hands from shaking, the Ambassador walked stiffly forward, sinking to the ground beside one of the victims. It was an old woman, still in her Human form, the sinews in her jaw pulled taught as she silently cried out in terror, her glassy blue eyes fixed somewhere above Aria's head. In her hand she clutched the chain of a small golden amulet depicting the goddess Bast in her demure feline form. It was a sign of strength that, like the Humans would sometimes clutch their rosary beads, crosses or carved angels, meant protection and comfort to her kind. It was now lying face down at the woman's side, half of it smudged and obscured with blood. Prying it from her grasp, Aria was careful to not disturb the dried crimson. She would be bringing this to Chey. Something would be done.
She blinked, and was both surprised and humiliated to feel a tear trace its way down her cheek. Feeling a physical, sickening ache in her chest and stomach, she began her way back home, lest she dishonor the dead by allowing her anguish to manifest into weakness. They would be avenged- the time for mourning would come after the Werewolves had paid.
