The End of Justice

Ajamar walks along mostly steadily, sobering up rather quickly. Verity shakes her head and takes a bottle cap out of his pocket, tossing it into a nearby bin. The light catches his hand briefly and she stops in the middle of Verge to check again. flexing the fingers and testing his nerves as if she's just thought of something.

He looks uncomfortable when she touches the hand, looking everywhere else possible. "Red couldn't even look at it."


She acts entirely normal with it, seemingly has done this before a lot. "Yeah well, they're like.. Drunraan poepouni"
"Drunraan poepounimy?" He laughs at her mockery and shakes his head. 

"You could put some really interesting metal caps on these to channel magic more efficiently, but I don't think that's your intention.
It's a removable concept. Electrum cuff around the wrist, then a series of bands on the fingers like rings and tips that are either clawed or not. I've helped make some before. "
He looks unsure of the suggestion and then shrugs "Would look better than plain bone, though."


As they are stopped in the Verge street. Lumina, Kavar and Jessamyn walk down the hill and stop at their position. 
"Verity IS back." Lumina says confirmationally. Planting her staff in the ground. 

"Evening." Kavar adds, holding his magicked orb to provide light to all. 

Verity hesitates a moment. Keeping her back to them as she holds Ajamar's skeletonised hand. "I have been back for several hours now."
"Any sign of spreading?" Lumina asks, peering over. 
"No" Verity and Ajamar say in unison, giving a brief private smile to one another. 
"Oh that is a relief" the diminutive Gnomish Archmage replies with a smile.   

"Indeed." agrees Kavar. 

Still not turning around, Verity speaks in a leveled out voice with little inflection."I assume you have started research on a solution for it, Archmage Lumina?"
"I have, looking at what the tower has on divine curses and retribution."
"Apart from transplanting a minotaur hand." Ajamar says halfheartedly.

"That is an option?"
Kavar queries, raising a brow at Lumina. 
"I mean I'm not sure you're the most viable candidate at the moment. But if all else fails I can look into a replacement" She admits in reply to the questions. 

"Ajamar. How are you feeling?" Jessa asks, by way of greeting. 

"Ummm, apart from the hangover?" he says sheepishly. 
"Yeah we had to literally drag you out of the Serpent twice." she says in reply. 
"And freaking out everytime I look at my hand. . . Twice? Dont' remember that." 

Verity continues examining his hand dispassionately, her fingers checking the bone structure carefully as she thinks deeply. 
"Lumina, please assure any members of the infiltration party that I'm not speaking to them until this is rectified. "

Kavar arches an eyebrow at this.

"I uh." Lumina pauses in a confused way and then conveys the message to Kavar and Jessamyn. 
"Also until we hear from Shaman Silt, it's possible all avenues of diplomacy are lost with her life.
It's also possible I hold her only soul crystal." Verity adds blankly.
"Her only... OH no. Oh that is ..." Lumina frets openly, twisting her hands on her staff and shuffling slightly. 

"Diplomacy with the shadow elves? Shouldn't we be siding with the Callari? " Kavar queries.
"Diplomacy isn't just about who is siding with who, though. I have diplomatic contact with The Territories for example." Lumina counters congenially. 

Verity remains with her back to the group holding Ajamars hand and stares off into the distance, her curled hair still edged with salt and blood and a smudge of brown dye. Ignoring his protests she lifts his hand and runs the bone knuckles along her cheekbone as she stands stiffly. Finally addressing Lumina. 
"I'm happy to tender my resignation if the majority of Threshold was involved in this invasion. As I cannot effectively work with them in the meantime. I am sure someone would like to wear my shoes."

Jessamyn looks at the hand. "It hasn't got worse has it?"
Ajamar replies in an absent way. "Can't really feel anything. I can use it, but sensation is very minimal." 
Kavar frowns. "I was unaware of any diplomatic negotiations with the shadow elves."
"Wait, I think I have missed a step." Lumina says, utterly confused. Looking between them all. 

"Lumina please relay to Kavar that my negotiations with Silt were private as she felt disrespected by the City at large, because they did not understand her concept of Trade." Verity says in her utterly monotonous voice. 
"Tell him yourself." Jessamyn snaps. 

"Oh yes, she took exchange very seriously. Oh um" Lumina again relates the words, still a bit confused.

Kavar simply gives a deep sigh. 

Verity's voice finally becomes frosty as she lowers Ajamars damaged hand and lets go of it.  "Please also remind Jessamyn I will fucking kill her if she speaks to me again." Then she smiles insincerely at Ajamar.  "I'm done now. Darling?"

Lumina shuffles on the spot again and opens her mouth, then closes it. "I uh."

"You know what go ahead and kill me." Jessamyn says acidly. 
Lumina pleads with the group, not making eye contact. "I don't think we want anyone killing anyone."
"Agreed." Kavar adds. 

"You fucking want it, you insensitive little shit? " Verity whirls around finally. Exposing her tear streaked face and draws her katana and swordbreaker in a single smooth motion. Stalking towards Jessamyn and going toe to toe with the Callarii elf. "You incited violence on a peoples for a fight that isn't even yours.
You're a goddamn disgrace." 

"I'm insensitive? They slaughtered my whole family! They deserved what they got" Jessamyn raises her voice angrily. 
Ajamar speaks up a little from off to the side, nursing his hand. "I think the Callarii and shadow elves have a rather . . . unfriendly history."

"You're in Threshold and Verge now, act like it or get out." Verity says with deadly finality. 
Lumina fidgets with stress and concern.

Verity slides into combat stance, her eyes going dark around the irises. "We are not your private army, little girl." 

"You dont rule Verge sorry. And it wasn't even my idea" Jessamyn replies petulantly. 
"Verity." Kavar says warningly. 

With two strong sweeps of her Katana, she cuts Jessamyn down on the spot. Flicking her katana and freeing it from blood before she slides her weapons away. "Fuck off Kavar."

Lumina stands horrified "By the gods... "

"I quit." Verity asserts, loudly. Stalking off towards her apartment for the last time. The shouts and screams behind her punctuated by the sound of a Resurrection. 

In the Garden District of Mirros, Verity walks down the cobbled road in a filmy white gown and dark mauve slippers. The gown's sleeves and cape trailing behind her in the wind as she walks arm in arm with Ajamar, allowing him to keep his gloved hand away from her where possible. His expression is deeply sombre, the strain of the past few days is evident in his pallor. 

As they pass a doorway, she reaches out and absently tears down a poster for the Tattler - with their faces on it. 
"Motherfuckers." comes her dark curse from surprisingly unpainted lips. Her skin entirely unadorned and somewhat pinched in places with anxiety. 

"Are you sure this is going to work?" He asks in a low voice as they dodge the late night crowds of the affluent Mirrosians. 

"I wouldn't put you in danger if I didn't think there was a possibility I could fix it. Like I said to you. I don't hate the hand, I love all that is part of you. However, you hate it dearly. Therefore I will resolve this, even if it takes..." 

"All of your blood?"

They lock eyes, silver-grey to pale blue. She smiles guiltily. 

"For you. Anything." 


And they push open the massive doors of the ancient Cathedral of Valerias. The stained glass windows reflecting the room with iridescent rainbow lights. Thick garlands of roses in every colour imaginable fill the walls and ceiling. Like an indoor garden with the most unusual crystal chandeliers hanging down intermittently, their glass actually made of hundreds of thousands of figures in states of undress and intimacy. As the soft breeze enters with them, they gently chime their arrival. To no one. The space for thousands is entirely empty, every polished pew of deep rosewood is vacated.

The massive, ornate altar has a note tacked to it: "Clean up after you're done, Confessor Voclain. I'm tired of stray blood in my toes. - Archpriestess Helene."

"Here we go, I guess." Ajamar says with a stray smile, kissing her on the forehead. "Don't accidentally give me Flappy wings, please." 

"So, once we start.. you can't move whatsoever." Verity says, reviewing the long scroll. Tapping the diagrams with the pen. "We're going to go, hand, tray, diamond placement, blood. Heal potion.. gold." 
"Okay, but what happens IF I move?" He says quietly, eyeing her and the plans with concern - nursing the hand as best as he can out of her view. 

On her haunches, Verity gazes at him and speaks carefully. "If you dislodge the diamonds, you're likely to lose that finger. If you disturb them all, the whole hand will be lost. You'll end up with a stump. If you can't enforce the sacrifice of a hardening agent, the blood will just eat the bone." The filmy outfit up close is made of bandage fabric, wrapped over and over and over in twisting and crossing patterns. The edges are frayed and unfinished. Somewhere across the room, her slippers are upturned against a wall where she has thrown them in pent up frustration and tiredness. 

"Are you being s-" He stares down at the plans and then back to her utterly blank expression, but her eyes, they're slowly welling and the darkness in the edges grows. "Of course you are. You never joke about this sort of thing." 

Verity stands, her bare feet padding on the flagstones as she rolls up the plans and sets out everything in order - Ajamar, then the Tray, Cauldron at one side, heal potions by his good hand. She kisses her Confessor amulet for good luck, looking up at the giant stained glass window of Valerias herself - joy, intensity, beauty. The golden drop earrings of Ixion, the light of love. 
"Bless us Valerias, for this is perhaps the end of all things if we cannot mend this broken heart between us. Please grant us your grace in this one thing, if I may be so bold." 

Then she hits the floor, knees down hard. Across from Ajamar, and his startled expression. 
"Evie!" 
"The pain helps. I need focus. You need to focus. Are you ready?" 

Warning: Disturbing content. Blood. Violence.

---

This time she takes out a small ornate looking gemmed disc, often seen as the powdered compact that she uses to examine her reflection and apply her expensive cosmetics. Rather than pressing the button for the opening latch, she pushes both sides of it and slides - a scalpel sharp curved knife swings out. 

Although Ajamar had seen her use it once before in a bar fight, it was always alarming to see the oiled hinged blade slide out so carelessly. So close to her face. Without thinking, he inhales sharply.

The diamonds tremble, and Verity's jaw clenches - a warning in her eyes as she stares at them until they still. Waiting for at least a moment, she slides in closer and widens her knelt stance. Ensuring she's perfectly balanced, leaning further back, rather than forward. Pulling over a wooden block, with a curved indentation and a soft dark looking cloth adhered to it. Resting her elbow in it, she tests the weight, leaning back and forth. Watching whether the diamonds shift. Finally satisfied, she finally makes eye contact with Ajamar. 

Then she slices her arm, from middle fingertip to around half way up. The blade is exceptionally sharp, precise. The red lifeblood floods out in a sudden explosion as she begins chanting loudly in a foreign language. The blood sloshes around the tray and then inexplicably begins reversing gravitational pull and begins drawing in towards the diamonds, coating them and seemingly consuming them. The sound of shattering and bubbling as they are worn down by the gushing liquid from Verity's arm. 

Ajamar swallows at the sight of it, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek as he watches Verity's voice get fainter and fainter - her already pale skin becomes colourless and pallid. Still, the blood is flowing. 

It begins swirling and sweeping over his chalky bone hand - the glint of a layer of diamonds before the blood starts to build up muscles, arteries, cartilage and fat. The blood starts dripping to a halt, but she squeezes her arm and continues chanting - gutteral now, demanding, desperate for the last drops to do their best work. Then as suddenly as she speaks, she is gone. Her eyes lose their colour and blood drips out of her mouth. 

He flicks the lid off the heal potion and tries to force it into her. She bites down, viciously, shattering the vial into her own mouth. Then topples backwards, her head hitting the flagstones with incredible force. A trickle of leftover blood from her skull and scalp starts to spread into her pale hair. Too far for him to get to her with the secondary vial.

Sitting out on the terrace of a garden cafè, Verity stretches out her legs in her white leather armor and thigh length black velvet boots. Her hair intensely curled and stacked up in her usual giant mess of a bun, strapped down with gold bands. Trailing down at the back, she ruffles it with her fingers. Slept with it wet once more. 

Flipping through the newspaper and smiling at all the coverage of the Royal Family, she sips her extremely sugary and cream filled coffee with cinnamon. Aware her meeting guest had arrived by the lessening of volume on the tiled garden space, the whispers bouncing off the walls. Magister Acara the younger, slides in across from her. Wearing his official robes, but looking somewhat worse for wear. His black hair streaked with grey at the temples and usually sparkling blue eyes are slightly out of focus. 

The waiter immediately brings his usual order and backs away at a half bow, awkwardly - making Verity chuckle slightly into her mug. 

"You exposed your rank to more people, last night." He opens with a barb, annoyed. 

"I exposed my rank to your dad as well, be madder." is Verity's incredibly mature reply, her red painted lips tipped up in a smug smile. He almost reflexively lifts his hand to give her the finger and then instead runs it through his hair and barks a laugh, the tension ratcheting down gently with the mellowing of her smile. 

"Firstly, I knew that already, and secondly - could you stop being a dick for just a moment?" Silvain Acara asks with a tired widening of his hands, placatingly, but also then reaching for his coffee. Black as night, hot as hell and completely undrinkable as far as she was concerned.

"They were owed something. I'm sure you're aware of the sacrifices made in the wake of this situation. Unfortunately I seem to be the only one in a charitable mood, even for a dick." stirring her coffee unnecessarily, but pointedly as she locks eyes with him and gives all her disappointment. 

"You know, you're simultaneously the most magnanimous and deliberately infuriating person that I've ever encountered. How can you live in such stark constant contrast?" It is said in a way that seems to have started as a compliment and wandered into an insult gently. Causing her pause. 

"I won't last forever. You all need to be aware of that. They're learning a valuable lesson about taking things for granted and so are you. So are all of you. I am not at anyone's beck and call at this point in time. You're not used to fending for yourselves and it shows." In her own way, she starts neutrally and then it begins to cool as her temper rises. "I believe in them, I believe in you, I don't believe in the systems that guide us. I don't feel secure in tethering myself wholly to things that want to control me more than they want to appreciate me. Perhaps it didn't matter before, but I've found appreciation, adoration, respect, equity and partnership. It made me reconsider all my choices from then until now. So I am restoring balance. Whether you all like it or not." 

He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it, folding his arms and sliding down a little in the chair. A world of emotions fleeting through his eyes as he undoubtably relives moments with the duality of the petite blonde, currently picking at a croissant when she would normally stuff the whole thing into her mouth like a savage. 

"Voclain?"
"Yes Acara?"
"Are you happy?"
"Sometimes." 

Abruptly he stands, drains his cup and places it down gently. Drinking in the memory of her sitting there. 
"Sometimes is better than never."

"Say hello to the family, that I love them very much." She says quietly, smiling at him apologetically.

"Of course." And he disappears out of the walled garden, the sense that he'd come here to have a very different conversation lingers in the air as Verity orders another sweet, hot drink and nurses the headache of a lifetime of choices. Finally after a long time of holding the chain at her neck, she opens her hand to reveal a two sided glass heart filled with blood, capped in gold and silver. 

Verity flings open the giant wooden doors of their new abode, causing the multiple chandeliers to sway gently and clink their cut crystal votives. 
"Honeys, we're home!" she shouts as she, like an ant carries a giant spaghetti noodle - drags a truth boggled Valerian Steele inside. Aforementioned, writer and hero wearing layers and layers of silk, satin, velvet, and dripping with diamonds as he mutters incoherently about telling Kalisa too much or too little. 

The toes of his boots gently scoot along the pink and gold veined pasili marble as Ajamar follows diligently with an indulgent smile at the chaos he invited into his life willingly and maybe even happily. Waving at the cook, Ella as she comes out of the kitchen hall and tilts her head. A softly pretty older woman with tanned skin and golden hair tucked neatly into her cap. Her hazel eyes are shrewd for a moment, the kitchen knives on her apron not always just for cooking. 

"We're okay, Ella. But we'll need a tray of cherry cobbler and a big glass of sweet port with a sedative." Ajamar says, motioning at the feat of strength parade heading towards the leftmost guest quarters. Hurrying to open the door before Verity connected with her currently aimed kick at the handle.

"I had it!" she gripes, as he darts forward and clears their way through two secure doors. 

"You had a bill coming for whatever those overpriced things are made of, is what." Valerian says with a cheerful, if not maniacal laugh as he is deposited on a large oval shaped bed. The silky mauve cover double stuffed with feathers and cotton wadding. He outstretches his arms and legs. "Undress me!" 

"On the grounds of no, you're truth-drunk. I can send in Cara the house assistant or Gerald the butler. Ella would just slice your clothes and call you a knob." Verity says, thumbing at the doorway as the aforementioned cook bustles in with her voluminous brown robes and efficient leather apron. 

"Dress like a knob, gonna get called a knob, my son." she says amiably, putting down a full glass pie dish of cherry cobbler and a tumbler of port that has a slight fizz to it - The cobbler has a big spoon stuck directly down into it and a big jug of cream on the side. She winks and stomps out cheerfully whistling a Ylari folk tune. 

"Fine, I'll do it myself. I'll be lonely the whole time..." Valerian pouts at them. Ineffectually as they stand at the door and smile at him like parents bidding a child to bed.

"Goodnight sweetie, sleep well." Verity says, completing the scene with smug satisfaction. To which Valerian begins tugging off his pants, causing her to yelp and bolt away from the door. Ajamar just laughs that uncomplicated joyous noise and shakes his head, closing the double doors and following the vague trail of sand to the Library. 

Verity, still dressed in steel capped boots, a tabard dress with interwoven strips of cloth for the chest and arms is stalking around the massive room. The fun and mockery is forgotten in an instant. Duality in motion. Clomping in a wide looping arc of the racking of books, dodging the rolling ladder as she eyes her desk. The three yellowed parchment paper packets laying a few inches apart - organised rather in perfect symmetry. Looking at them a little like they might open up and start spouting offensive information. Less then a foot across from hers - aligned but not quite touching, his own desk is cluttered with current study materials. Their identical white wing backed chairs arranged to face one another as they work. 

Normally a quiet and enjoyable sanctuary, he pauses her pacing by putting his arms around her - enveloping her with his much larger body. His brows raise over those unnaturally golden eyes as he realises, she's vibrating with tension and rage. Her shoulders locked into a determined defensive pose. 

"I wish you'd tell me what's in those." he says, resting his chin on her heaped pale blonde curls. 

"PRIVACY CODE 867" comes the high pitched, metallic-y voice of Alia the fairy as she leans out of one of the 16 windows in her dollhouse mansion that sits in the corner of the library. Currently undergoing tiny hand renovation, sticking gold leaf to the eaves in her waking hours. Shaking her head at him as if he ought to know better, then slams the miniature shutters closed in a puff of fairy dust and tiny muttering. 

"You got told." Verity mutters into his coat, then guiding him away from the offensive packets and then towards the gilded stairs to their private quarters. Reluctant to let go, she holds his hand all the way. Expression clouded, lost in political and tumultuous thoughts again - already. 

Deep inside the lower levels of The Palladium in Mirros, Verity strides into a wide multi capacity jail cell. Currently empty, she surveys the area and then puts down a large wooden crate, leaning against a dividing barred wall and gate and staring at the stairs upwards. Her deeply tanned skin shockingly dark against her white secondary armor, thigh high socks and steel capped boots with a strapped bodysuit and spiked shoulders. 

Her dark painted lips are downturned as she hears footsteps that approach the cell. They're light, unconcerned - to her ears. Setting her jaw and then tilting her chin upward, she lets Magister Acara the younger catch the first glance of her poor mood.  

The blue robed Kings Mage almost skids to a halt, holding his staff a slight bit closer - trying to keep it light as he runs a free hand through his dark salt and pepper curls and gives her a bemused smile. The tension stays in the corners of his pale blue eyes, wary as he circles past her and then looks down at the crate. 

"Lot of paperwork generated there, I take it I'm in trouble?" he asks in a futile manner as she slides the heavy crate along with her boot - backing him into the cell a bit and standing in the gated doorway. Then taking off the lid to reveal a box of old dinner plates, teacups, glasses and breakable miscellany. 

"Spell up." Is her only reply, hefting a really ugly floral teapot and feeling it's weight briefly. Her pale grey eyes are almost as flat as her tone. 

"Hell, Voclain. I don't know what I did, but I'm sure we can just talk this-" and he is cut off as she hurls the pot at him, aiming for his feet and letting the shards ricochet off the hem of his protected robe. 

"Too late. What do you know about my current assignment?" She replies and selects a wide plate, overhanding it directly at center mass. 

Acara swings his staff and knocks the plate away angrily, his eyes getting flintier as she leans down for another projectile. "You know I send the double blind file. It always comes from my office as a final point to keep your position safe, why would -" and he is forced to cut off his sentence as a teacup flies at his face, just barely whipped off to the side by his Magisterial staff. 

"Files, more than one file. I got three." Verity hurls another cup. This time in his stunned state, it connects with his nose and shatters into pieces on his face. Blood flecking his front, the nose clearly broken. "Shit, fuck.." 

She makes a move to come forward. The flatness gone from her expression, digging in her pack.

"NO! Don't come closer, just throw me a bandage - UNDERHAND." Acara says angrily, one hand over his face and the other outstretched for it as she gently tosses it and winces at the mess. 

The silence is deafening as he mops up the mess and presses the enhanced magical fabric against his face and lets it do it's work. Wincing as he uses the heel of his hand to straighten out the bridge of his nose. 

"I am angry, but I understand now.. the intention of this exercise." he says finally. Brushing the blood off his front and leaning on his staff amid all the shattered glass. "You weren't sure if I was in on whatever... this thing is. May I see the files?" 

"No you may not. You now need plausible deniability for whatever I do next. Because I got three file packets and they're... It's right in the weak point." She offers tiredly, rolling a cup between her hands. The clinking of it hitting against her unadorned silver rings covers a specific sound. 

"Well, I'll have to look into it." The Magister says formally, drawing himself up to full height and then looking concerned as he spots something behind Verity.

"Look into what?" A gently accented female voice asks politely, but archly.