Basic Information Name: Saiph Zubishmal Aliases: Red, Wife (by Cole) Gender: Female Race: Tiefling (sometimes she says she's sun elf) Age: Unknown/Unstated Profession: Adventurer, Fortuneteller, Wanderer. Languages: Abyssal. Accent: Mixed accent making region of origin difficult to identify.
Physical Information Height: 5'6 Weight: Not telling. Body build: Slim, well trimmed, with compact muscle. Skin type: Smooth and unusually soft, especially considering her lifestyle. Hair style: Long bangs, short back. Scars: An odd series of 'burn' marks parallel above and below her eyes. Further inspection would reveal these to be natural birth marks. Close inspection of her bare shoulders and back would reveal the presence of several very pale scars, however. Tattoos: - Colouring:
[b]Hair:[/b] Vibrant red, like the color of fresh blood. [b]Eyes:[/b] Reddish-brown, with almost catlike irises. [b]Skin:[/b] Almost alabaster white [/li]
Mental Information Alignment: Chaotic Neutral. Philosophy: 'We all have our secrets, but I still want to know yours.' Deity/Beliefs: Olidammara (her character sheet says Akadi due to ranger levels though) Personality:
(examples) [u]Open[/u] [i]Saiph is seemingly quite friendly and open to just about anyone. Because of this, she tends to make friends (or at least, acquaintances) rather easily.[/i] [u]Perceptive[/u] [i]Saiph rarely misses much, even though she comes off as downright oblivious at times.[/i] [u]Care-free[/u] [i]Saiph rarely lets much bother her for long. [/i] [u]Secretive[/u] [i]Aside from select details, Saiph doesn't generally elaborate much upon herself. She prefers brushing aside inquiry as little, boring details.[/i] [u]Mercurial:[/u] [i]Saiph's mood tends to rapidly switch between content, bored, friendly, annoyed, frustrated, and many things in between. She can be quite fickle.[/i] [u]Perceptive:[/u] Though most people will never catch it, Saiph tends to be quite quick to notice little things in conversation or watching other people. [u]Inquisitive:[/u] [i]Saiph is notoriously curious.[/i] [u]Passionate:[/u] At times, Saiph can be prone to losing herself in the moment of intense emotions. [/li]
Additional Information Gear: A sword or two at all times. As well, a deck of fortune telling cards, that she herself claims were enchanted by spirits in a far away plane. A detect magic spell would not reveal anything significant about them. Jewelry: Saiph keeps an old gold hairpin on her most of the time, even though she herself never wears it. It usually remains tucked in a pocket. Habits/hobbies: People-watching, drinking. General Health: Saiph is rather fit and athletic for a young human(?) woman. Favorite Drink: Wine, hands down. Weaknesses: - Saiph finds it generally difficult to open herself up to people, preferring to keep the care-free persona or seductive persona (depending) known to just about everyone.
-As well, Saiph is incredibly overprotective of her fortune telling cards and friends... not necessarily in that order.
-Saiph is very timid when it comes to prospects of dealing with her (primarily mother's) side of the family. Likewise, things related to Gra'azt make her leery.
-Occasionally Saiph's abyssal heritage gets the better of her, in various ways related to anger, lust, or other strong emotions. Generally she keeps herself in check better than she gives herself credit for, but persuasive or creative people can result in her feelings overcoming her higher brain functions.
Cities are the loneliest places. Only in a city can you be surrounded by thousands or more people, and still feel completely out of touch with everybody. At the same time, you get that strange affinity with everyone in the 'crowd', yet you are alone in it. I love contradictions.
Certain elements aside, life has been quiet. I enjoyed it for awhile, but as usual, I'm getting bored with it. I think I need a job of some sort... maybe I'll ask around to see if anyone has the dark of something going on. Jink isn't as important; I just need something to keep occupied with...
Some things that are 'supposed' to be, I just don't get. I don't find devils to be as annoying as other demons or tieflings from demon stock should. I don't distrust holy folks (though I do think they're sort of silly). I don't trust my 'kin' any more than I trust strangers... okay, that one makes sense, probably.
Lately I've been getting on with tiefers more than I ever used to. Embra, Maelfina, Mir, Marx... nice enough, all of them. Maelfina fits an odd exception to my 'avoid anything related to Gra'azt' rule, since she is, literally, probably related to him. Mir is just fun loving. Marx is... odd. Embra I haven't seen much of lately, but I think her and I would get on well.
It's almost as close to fitting in as my kind gets, I suppose.
People die. It's... kind of what they do. Okay, they breathe, they eat, they make funny noises, they do... not so pleasant things, but eventually they die. I thought I was used to that idea years ago... on the other hand, I never thought anyone I was actually fond of would get penned in the dead book, as they say around here. It's an odd feeling. A frustrating feeling of... empty, I guess. You can't just drink it away. You wake up and eventually they're still gone... pike.
I miss Raelin already. If I ever found who did it, I'll put mother's lessons to use.
A deep, somewhat annoyed grunt arose from the throat of the tall, heavyset man, as the backdoor of the tavern kitchen slammed shut. The dark haired, immense fellow - at least two heads taller than most warriors - didn't turn around to address the much smaller, slender, and in comparison to Jekeb, downright prettier figure walking up behind him, continuing to focus on the important task at hand: 3 batches of carrots down, 2 more to go.
The woman walking up behind him paused, lowering her navy blue hood down as she brushed a few stray locks of bloodred hair out of her face. She smirked at the large pile of neatly diced carrots on the table, before her gaze shifted to the large boiling cauldron that could have easily belonged in a wizard's lab, were it not the soup pot of the tavern. Jekeb never did anything small.
"Jekeb dear." she addressed him with a polite, yet almost singsong voice. The large man turned around, the floorboard's creaking beneath him as he grunted once more in reply. As he glanced down at her, the woman smiled as she looked up and down his blood and food stained beige apron, before she continued.
"I'm sorry to bother you while you're at work. But there's a little... matter at hand I was hoping you could help me with..."
"It not cranium rat problem again, Madam Fyr?" The giant's voice was deep, though lacking a certain rumble one might expect, all from many hours of practice trying to keep his voice down, "I tell exterminator to deal with. They want, ah... 12 stingers to deal with problem. I give 10." He grumbled with a sigh as the woman smirked, giving a large shouldered shrug, "Maybe I should not be stingy no more."
The madam known as Fyr gave an amused, one might say deathly laugh. Despite being nearly eight feet tall, Jekeb's form narrowly suppressed a shiver. His employer had that effect on him.
"Nono, silly Jekeb. I actually just wondered if you could watch over something for a bit."She said. As Jekeb arched a brow, Fyr's lithe form shifted to the side, partially revealing the brief indication of a small figure hiding behind the woman, timidly shifting to match Fyr's left shift.
Jekeb... blinked. Fyr had a child?
"Now now, Saiph, he's not going to hurt you." Fyr cooed as she reached back, grabbing ahold of something with a small squeal. Jekeb watched, feeling somewhat awkward as the small ginger haired little girl was yanked by her arm in front of Fyr, a downright timid expression upon her small, pale, brown eyed face.
"...Jekeb perhaps ah... not best babysitter, madam." The larger man grumbled, shifting slightly in what one could interpret as awkwardness. The last thing he needed to deal with, much less in his kitchen, was a screaming child.
"Now now, Jekeb. It's only for a little bit..." She smiled to him, leaning down to frazzle the little girl's hair in an almost affectionate manner. It did little to calm the small child down, but she did stop trying to pull herself back behind her mother.
"Little bit? Like ah..." Jekeb gestured with his large hands, as he was prone to do. The little girl watched with some amusement as he continued, "Like what? For evening?"
"Mm, something like that, dear." Fyr nodded with a friendly smile, "Just a few evenings, is all."
The giant man's expression was blank.
"...vat?"
"Saipha won't be a hassle, don't worry." Fyr continued to smile pleasantly as she gently pushed the little girl forward, her green dress swaying a bit as she stood deathly still in front of the giant, her mother slowly backing up towards the door as she continued, "I'll be back in a few days to get her. You know how the Counting House is no place for a little girl that you want to keep."
"Madam, this tavern, not..." he blinked as the door slammed, cutting him off as he uttered "...babysitters. Feh."
The little girl stared up at him as Jekeb shrugged with a sigh, looking down curiously at the little girl. Clearly, she wasn't of human stock, at least not entirely. Her ears were pointed in an almost elven fashion. Her cheeks had odd marks, that almost look like they were burnt in, but the color just wasn't quite yet for scarring. Her eyes, while big and childlike, were more feline than human.
Nevermind the extremely alabaster complexion and hair that resembled rubies or blood more than any 'real' person's hair, Jekeb thought with a snort.
The little girl continued staring up at the giant man, whom narrowed his dark eyes a bit, staring back. She wasn't sure what she did to offend her mother so badly. Was he going to eat her? Hit her? Feed her bugs?
Much to Saiph's surprise, however, he simply nudged a small footstool towards her with a boot, before turning right back around, the sound of carrots being sliced filling the kitchen once more.
Despite himself, Jekeb smirked a little bit as he heard the chair scrape against the ground a little, the child sitting atop it with a small creak. He felt her eyes bearing into his back as he took a large handful of carefully sliced carrot cubes, neatly dropping them atop the pile.
Three days of this, he thought with a hmph.
The tiefling child continued staring at the much, much larger person for what seemed like minutes, before he finally spoke. "...pepper."
She jumped a little at the abruptness of his deep voice, before following his waving hand towards a very large spice grinder on the table nearest to her. Despite the fact he was looking away, she gave a timid nod, before scurrying over, grabbing the mill with a grunt, and waddling back over awkwardly, the pepper grinder being almost as tall as she was.
The chef hid a smirk, his large hand reaching down to effortlessly pick the tall grinder up out of Saiph's hands, before quietly grinding some spice upon the pile of carrots. The little girl gasped a bit, before letting out a quiet 'ACHOO!'. Jekeb arched a dark brow, staring at her for a moment as she sniffled, before resuming his peppering.
"You have name little girl?" He asked curiously, gingerly picking the bowl of carrots up and walking over to dump the lot into the cauldron with a faint plunk. If he was going to be doing this all week's end, he may as well chat. He may have already known her name, but for children, it was always better to ask.
"S...Saiph." The little girl responded somewhat timidly, standing there watching him stir the pot with a large wooden spoon.
"Mm, odd name." Jekeb commented, stroking his scruff in thought with a free hand, "It suits. Ever make soup, Saiph?"
The little girl shook her head, curiously watching the pot as Jekeb smirked.
The melodic, almost entrancing voice echoed throughout the room, the volume of the speaker enough to cause the smaller glass pieces of the store to rumble a little bit in place. Though it would have been ill advised to yell too loudly in there, what with the thousands of coins worth of ceramics, mirrors and glass vessels, it was not as if the store belonged to the purple haired woman, emerald green eyes glowing as she paced about slowly. Nadyza Zubishimali had more valuable things to worry about, such as pleasing grandmother by finding her other granddaughter.
Granted, Nadyza would prefer to avoid paying for broken china if she could afford it. Glass molded from the very stuff of the Elemental Plane of Earth was not cheap.
"The last time I remember you saying that, Nadz, you tried to throw a bag on me and sell me to the brothel next door as a chimney sweep." Saiph's voice echoed through the room in a low, wary tone. Images of her deep vermillion hair flickered throughout the room as the various mirrors and polished glass surfaces reflected about, further hindering Nadyza's efforts to find her sister.
"Nonsense, silly. Haldoz doesn't even have a chimney!" There was a glimmer off of the other tiefling's polished white teeth as she continued pacing about, reaching the end of a narrow aisle as she glanced left, then right, her left hand glowing softly with greenish eldritch fire that bounced and danced almost rhythmically along her slender fingers and palm. Nadyza was not afraid to singe her sister a little bit if it meant getting her back; afterall, she was a tough girl.
The fact she nearly killed Veza mere minutes ago did little to hinder her sense of caution, either. Granted, the invisible arcane energy woven around the sorceress' form ensured that she was relatively safe from any ambush, barring a magical assault that Saiph wasn't likely to employ, she wagered. But Saiph was of her blood, and trickery and resourcefulness were not beyond her, no matter how inferior she was to herself or, to a lesser extent, Veza. The middle sister was somewhat overzealous at times, a fact that Nadyza was sometimes frustrated with to no end. She'd be far more useful if she had a better hunter's instinct.
The various images of Nadz's youngest sister throwing something caused Nadyza to spin on her heels, ducking swiftly as she flung a readied, tightly-wound ball of lightning at what she surmised was the real Saiph. The mirror exploded with a hiss of electricity, the tiefling not even flinching as broken glass bounced off of her protections without her feeling a thing. She cursed, emerald eyes shifting left and right as she spun about, putting her back to the wall as she expected it to be a feint. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her sister didn't reveal herself, a pale smile emanating from over a dozen various mirrors through the room. Nadyza hissed, with about as many mirrors similarly reflecting her displeasure.
"8000 jink." Saiph spoke simply, her tone playful.
"I'll take it out of your tailless behind." Nadyza spoke, her words spat as much as spoken. Her other hand reached up, both hands now crackling with a red arcane lightning as she chanted, before she made an outwards sweeping motion. If she could not catch the rat, Nadyza thought, she could certainly smoke her out.
The room began to fill with thick, billowing yellowish-green fog, the cloud emanating quickly from her hands as she stepped back towards the nearest window - or rather, the only window. With the door on this side of the room as well, Saiph would have to flee into view - at which point, the much more powerful of the two - Nadyza of course - could ensnare her. Bending her will would probably be an easy task for an enchantress of her caliber.
Of course, the alternative would leave her dead, but Saiph had some sense of self preservation. That's entirely why she lured Nadyza into a shop full of elemental mirrors. Occasionally, little sister was clever. Not clever enough of course, as she saw a look of panic on the mirrors from her sister, who swiftly began to move. Nadyza grinned as she readied her spells, her form tingling with the energy necessary to capture her sister, waiting for her to run down the aisle into view...
There was a loud crash as the younger tiefling instead slammed herself into an entire shelf of valuables - the same shelf that Nadyza was standing right next to.
The purple haired tiefling could only go wide eyed as she tried to catch the shelf, but to no avail as she struck the ground, briefly deafened by the shattering of glass, pots, and other fragile art objects. Her magic of course protected her from injury, but she found herself nonetheless wheezing as the heavy shelf - accompanied by her sister's mass - pinned her slender form beneath.
Her concentration lost, the domination spell Nadyza had readied quickly unraveled as the feline eyed sibling looked down at her, a small rustling of steel against leather evident as she sheathed her ornate shortsword. Ruby lips smirked down at her struggling sister, as she patted the infuriated sorceress on the cheek.
"We'll have a drink sometime Nadz. Tell mother hello!"
Nadyza grunted further as Saiph springboarded her weight off of her form, cursing in frustration as her prey leaped out of the window. The object of her search had been right on top of her, and she couldn't even fling a single cantrip to stop her.
The smell of death in the air drew Nadyza's attention to the cloud of death she had unleashed moments ago, for some reason blowing back towards the source of origin - herself. Apparently her sister had used a spell to deflect the spell away from her. She hadn't been panicking at all; she had played a trick.
Nadyza gagged at the smell of normally comforting death and decay before she managed to lift a hand from beneath the wooden frame, the cloud dissipating into the nothingness it came from with a troubled sigh. The owner of the shop was going to have words with Nadyza when he got back - or worse, with her influential mother.
Greyhawk, 10 Years Ago "...finally, earnings seem to be about twenty percent lower this season. We don't attract as many regulars as we once did."
"Mgh." came the gruff, solitary reply of Dyn Whitesmith, the owner of the Sappy Satyr, at one point one of Greyhawk's oldest 'entertainment venues'. The middle aged man raised his gaze from his earnings forms to give a sneering glance to his rather scrawny, balding accountant. The grunt was a combination of contempt and acknowledgment that the accountant was most familiar with, though whether the awkward looking fellow was aware of his employer's general dislike of him, nobody was sure.
There was a hesitant pause as the bespectacled number cruncher watched his boss cut a frustrated figure in his seat, before asking softly, "was... there anything else you wished to know, sir?"
"Nothing an egghead like you can help me with. Go get some lunch or... whatever it is you do." Whitesmith grumbled in a low tone, waving the other man away with a dismissive gesture. The accountant almost seemed to visibly shrink as he slowly backed out of the room with a nervous look about him, the manager paying him no mind as he reached under his desk for his bottle of whiskey. At least Old Mariner 10 Year just did its job without asking annoying questions.
The taste of whiskey, unfortunately, did little to calm Whitesmith's nerves. The man was furious, scowling as he swallowed the burning 'succor'. His chapped hand rubbed his greying dark beard in thought about his profits. Lost profits; the very mention of such made him all the more furious, especially when this was the time of year he should be gleefully counting his income.
He expected some initial loss of profits. That always happened when taverns or brothels moved into the district. They usually couldn't compete with the Satyr in quality of entertainment (and women, of course), or Whitesmith's somewhat... aggressive incentives to get other businesses to close shop. He was a gentleman about it, of course. He paid what he considered fair coin to buy out businesses that he would simply tear down for additional housing. That's far more fair than some other folks he knew.
But the lavish new establishment down the street - what was it called? The Laughing Bones? Whatever it was, the thought of it made Whitesmith scowl. The woman who owned the establishment - pretty as she was - had the annoying combination of being both business saavy and stubborn, not to mention a touch sassy. She had literally laughed at Whitesmith's offer - practically in his face - when he walked into her admittedly-nice establishment inquiring about a buyout.
"The nerve of that wench." he sneered, gripping the bottle of decade old whiskey in his hands. Had it been a glass wine goblet, he might have shattered it under the force. A knocking upon the door was the only thing that kept Whitesmith from throwing it against the wall anyway.
"Sir." One of his bouncers, a tall, dark half orc that was a necessary ugly in his establishment for keeping order, turned a pair of red eyes towards the bottle of whiskey his boss had been apparently trying to crush with his bare hands, clearing his throat in apology before he grunted, "The new girl's waiting in your... ahm, chambers for you, boss."
"Mm... fine. I'll be in, thank you." The manager noted sternly, slamming the bottle of whiskey down upon the desktop with a thud as he slowly rocked himself to his feet, the old chair creaking beneath his weight. The half orc, used to less tame displays of frustration from his boss, simply nodded and closed the door. Whitesmith gave the mongrel credit; he knew exactly how to make him at least a little better, and unlike his accountant, wasn't a sniveling twit.
Whitesmith stopped with a blink as he opened the door to his bedroom, the gruff manager whistling in approval. Across the fine red carpet, sitting upon his soft sheeted and dare one add expensive bed, sat his new property. The torchlight of the room flickered shadows across her pale face, accentuated by the long, ebony locks of hair neatly hanging on each side of her face. Her clothing was plain, a dull white and brown commoner's dress. Probably sold into bondage by debt ridden parents, Whitesmith thought.
Such is the way of things, though he could not help but note the ornate mithril hairpin keeping the woman's long black hair in an elaborate braid. For a peasant, she had just enough class to settle the old man's decision about how the night would go.
The merchant could only smirk a bit in approval as his gaze met hers, the woman's unusual eyes meeting his as she shrunk away from him a bit. He appreciated her obvious fear of him, clearly knowing her place, but her eyes... were they brown, or...red?
Probably a trick of light, Whitesmith thought, finding it difficult to resist licking his lips a bit. He eagerly slammed the door shut behind him, the young woman nibbling the corner of her ruby lip as she watched him lock the door.
It had been a most dreadful day, and Whitesmith always loved trying out the new merchandise.
10 Years Ago, Pt. 2 The half-orc guard, having been in Whitesmith's employ for some years, was never one to show much emotion. As he heard the strangled scream from his manager's bedroom, however, the normally stoic guard revealed a look of panic.
The panicked look did not go away as he barreled down the hall, floorboards creaking in protest under the hired axe's considerable mass as he unshouldered his axe. The panic remained, the fear of not only his employer's life, but his livelihood being threatened if something were to happen. Finding bodyguard jobs in Greyhawk was hard if you didn't do the most basic aspect of your job, afterall, and even harder for half orcs.
That look of panic turned to shock as he rammed open the half ajar door, large hands squeezing the hilt of his battered battleaxe as his dark reddish eyes scanned the darkly lit room, stepping across the carpet.
Two things were amiss. The first was the odd squishing sound the carpet made under foot. His nose wrinkled as he quickly smelled the second detail; an overpowering smell that stirred ancient instincts within the tusked warrior.
Blood.
Whitesmith's bare legs dangled off of the side of the bed, the old man limp with his back against the headboard. His clothing lay in a haphazard pile upon the floor, underneath a hastily removed and torn peasant's dress. The rather compromising position might have been more amusing - or disturbing - to the half-orc were it for the the gaping chunk of bloody flesh missing along his dismembered jugular vein and the thin, wicked looking stiletto, about the size of a very ornate and familiar looking hairpin, embedded firmly in his chest.
The half-orc stared for a moment, before pounding his metal toed boots upon the carpet releasing a bellowing scream of frustration and rage.
Just outside the window, the slightly open portal that the half orc had thankfully failed to note, a long, black haired wig had fallen silently off of the roof. The pale, very excited and very naked young woman glanced back at the scream in a cold sweat, smeared streaks of blood - Whitesmith's blood, mostly - accentuated her alabaster curves in a manner that was, in a very dark sort of way, somewhat alluring.
"Shit."Saiph rasped from crimson lips, spitting the taste of lifeblood, smeared foundation, and torn flesh from her teeth and tongue. Brushing a few stray locks of windblown red hair from her catlike eyes with a trembling hand, she leaped the gap to the adjacent brick red rooftop, bare toes catching the creaking gutter as her blood smeared hands grasped the rough shingles.
She growled, pulling herself up against the sharply angled roofs as she begin to run for dear life into the night.
The taunting voice echoed throughout the dank sewers as dark, fleeting figure dove from shadow to shadow, her labored breathing condensing into faintly-lived vapor before her. The figure paused briefly, clutching her flank with pale fingers stained red as she sat in a kneel, before she glanced behind her. No footsteps could be heard, but she found herself more unsettled than relaxed. She was still being followed, and she wasn't so sure she could hide away from this one.
Coughing weakly, she picked herself back up and continued down the hallway, ignoring both the light spinning of the world around her and the blood dripping from between her fingers that was likely causing that dizziness. That arrow had struck with precision earlier; it was not fatal, and the shooter had never intended it to be such. It certainly hurt however, and it was certainly slowing her down.
Hopefully no matter, she told herself as she limped along. The portal wasn't too far away.That said, whomever had the barmy idea to put a portal in the sewers of Greyhawk was a real sod.
The snap of a tense string echoed throughout the hallway, a split second before the labored tiefling flung herself behind a corner. The arrow struck the wall she stood in front of previously with a sharp thunk, the shaft embedded at the center of what could only be described as a small crater of shattered granite.
"And still she moves!" The voice, mirthful, sultry, and full of malicious intent called as Saiph continued around the corner, breaking into a dead run as her coat lightly flapped bheind her. Stealth mattered less at this point, as the passages became more winding and ancient. If she couldn't lose her pursuer, she could at least win the race to the portal.
It was several more winding turns and a three way intersection. and what felt like an eternity navigated as Saiph found herself catching her breath along the edge of a subterranean aqueduct. Her breathing was obscured by the slow passage of mostly clean water lazily drifting along as she squinted down the dark tunnel, catching the light stone outline of the archway bridge she had been looking for all this time.
She was almost there. She could smell freedom in the air.
Unfortunately, as her feline eyes turned to the movement in the shadows, she could also smell brimstone.
Saiph could not respond in time as the blow struck her square in her wounded chest, the tiefling's light form striking the wall with a sickening thud, knocking the wind out of her. A small pained gasp escaped her bloodstained lips as a heavy boot pressed down on her chest, holding her against the wall in her slouched position. Though her vision was full of stars, in the darkness her sight could make out the silhouette of leathery wings against the vaulted ceilings, as well as glowing red, feline eyes.
Those terrifying red eyes.
"How very rude of you Saiph." The voice cooed even as it chastised her. Saiph felt a gloved hand gently caress her clammy cheek, a finger tracing one of the dark lines along her eyes as the voice continued, "You could have at least said 'Hello' to your family."
"M...mother..." the downed tiefling choked out weakly. She wasn't sure if it was a plea or a somewhat pathetic greeting.
"Though I suppose what you did to your sister the last time you were in Azzagrat might count..." the alu-fiend snickered in sinister amusement before leaning down, her tone taunting, "I thought I taught you better. What was it I said about coming back to the scene of a crime?"
Saiph coughed weakly as she rasped, staring downwards, "N...never do it more than twice?"
"Whatever it was. I'm sure it wasn't it." Fyr sighed in disappointment, pressing the weight of her body down upon Saiph's chest. Her daughter groaned weakly as the heel of that boot pressed down upon the wound along her flank, feebly trying to shift out of the way to no avail.
"I admit, daughter of mine, this is all very unexpected." The winged woman spoke as she tapped her chin, well manicured nails glistening in the darkness, "I assumed I'd just get you back dead - or what is the word Sigilians used - penned, was it?"
"In... the dead book." Saiph added, managing a brief moment of snark.
"Right right." Her mother waved her hand dismissively, continuing, "But you're clearly quite alive. I'm rather impressed - perhaps I'd even be a little more proud were it for the... difficulties you've caused me."
"Y...you abandoned me to Hynvas." Saiph protested, a bit of a growl in her tone despite her injuries and the situation she was in.
"On the contrary, daughter of mine. I sent you to kill her - and you did exactly that." Fyr corrected her with a terse, matter of fact tone. As she did this, she took her boot off of her daughter, one hand grasping the collar of her coat. Saiph struggled against the vicelike grip as the half-fiend lifted her up to eye level, her horned forehead resting against her own.
The proximity to that red, murderous gaze was one of few things Saiph was really, truly afraid of. Needless to say, at that moment she was terrified.
It was a point Fyr took quiet pleasure in as she continued. "On the other hand, you are correct in the sense I hadn't intended you to actually kill her. I suppose it was a perk that you did, of course, but you were actually a trade."
"Y...you traded me?" Saiph asked, narrowing her eyes. Despite her fear, her disbelief was still quite able to show itself, "What was so important that you'd trade -me-?"
"That doesn't matter, my sweet." Fyr said enigmatically and ever so tauntingly, patting her daughter's cheek lightly, "I got what I wanted even as you killed her and escaped. At which point, I get the discreet credit for killing a rival too."
"You're welcome." Her daughter muttered begrudgingly, glancing away.
"Nonetheless, you've still been quite the disobedient child." Fyr tsked in disappointment, "Perhaps I should send you to the Counting House? Your grandmother would know what to do with you..."
"Y...you wouldn't..." Saiph looked at her, a bit of panic in her eyes.
"I could and I would. You're mine, after all." Saiph visibly winced at those words as Fyr chuckled lightly, "It's in your nature to serve others, Saiph. This charade of being a free little spirit certainly hasn't gotten you anywhere."
"That's a lie." Saiph hissed, narrowing her eyes in anger.
"Ah, a sore point of yours I see." Fyr laughed in delight, even as that hand hoisting her daughter up slammed that very body back against the stone wall once again, the tiefling grunting in pain. The alu-fiend leaned her head back in, juxtaposing her violent act as she tenderly brushed a few disheveled locks of her daughter's red hair aside, a shade matching her own down to the sheen.
"You've felt it inside of you all this time, Saiph. Your blood calls out for two things: lust and suffering. And like me, you can't ever stray from that, and the more you run away from it, the more it cries for release." She chuckled a bit as she added, "By the Dark Prince, I bet if you had half a chance, you'd rip my throat out and mutilate what was left, just because that's what your blood -wants-."
Fyr smirked as she waited, expecting a response from her upstart daughter. That response never came however, as the tiefling just looked down, a pained look in her russet-red eyes that seemed to tell everything there was to be told. It seemed her flesh and blood wasn't as deluded as she had first thought.
The alu-fiend waited a few moments, letting those facts sink in before whispering, "Did you ever truly expect otherwise, dear?"
"No..." Saiph looks down with a look of dejection, her throat tensing briefly. That was the look Fyr was hoping for.
She wasn't expecting the smirk from her daughter however, nor for her to suddenly grab that pinning arm, a cold glass vial secured between Saiph's palm and Fyr's wrist.
With a loud pop of broken glass, the alu-fiend shrieked, shivering in agony as dripping holy water began to burn away her flesh. The tiefling smirked as she twisted, loosening herself from her mother's now weakened grip before dropping into a kneel. As her mother's gaze followed her daughter's, the latter raised her hand, covered in blood and broken glass as the very shadows around the pair rose up with her gesture.
"Insolent little-!" Fyr's words echoed with a spine-tingling, sinister treble to them as she lashed her other hand out at Saiph, intending to, once and for all, put the trash in her place.
To her surprise, however, her fist struck only the wall, the thud of the impact and cracked stone carrying through the chamber. This echo was followed a second later by a heavy splash into the water behind her. As Fyr spun around, she could see a dark body submerge itself into the slow moving waters of the aqueduct, just before vanishing under the bridge.
"Damnit!" Fyr hissed, stretching her wings as she leaped into the air. Ignoring the painful tingling as that holy water seared her hand, she flew over and past the stone bridge her daughter had just floated under, intending to drag her out and rip her spine from her body.
Much to Saiph's fortune, then, that she wasn't on the other side.
"Impossible..." The alu-fiend looked back underneath the bridge, seeing nothing but drifting water. Crimson glowing eyes peered around the room in a fury, the slender figure hovering over the drifting aqueduct. It took only a moment's observation for her to realize she was alone.
Once again, she realized, her daughter had escaped.
Fyr clenched her fists tightly, her form quivering in brief rage. Just as quick as it had appeared, however, that murderous intent had quickly been replaced by amusement, followed by low, sinister laughter.
