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* Plot Information for Shalador

The capital has been destroyed, replaced with the spewing ash and liquid lava of Shalador’s Eldest Sister. The surviving factions and Clans scramble for a new leader and a way to save the jungle Territory from the remaining volcanoes. The Black Widows, long held at arm’s length, have stepped up to guide, by force or willingly, the Territory towards salvation.
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Author Topic: The View Always Changes As You Grow Up  (Read 96 times)

Description: tag: Erisian

Offline Itzelian Maboya

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      halyonix

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The View Always Changes As You Grow Up
« on: Mar 28, 17, 05:07:36 PM »
Itzelian Maboya returned to her rooms after her first official meeting with Camaxtli Coyotl with a lot on her mind. Physically speaking, both women looked similar in age and physique, though Camaxtli was a bit more trim because she liked to fight with her men (really? That was a little weird but who was Izzy to say otherwise?) and Itzel was a bit less so because of her indoor lifestyle.

But that was where the similarities ended, though Itzel felt she had found a kindred spirit in Cammy. It was weird, though, and she tried to figure out why. At first, she had realized that Camaxtli was everything Izzy wanted to be: she was beautiful, confident, sure of herself, a Queen that wasn’t a stuffy, inflexible Queen. Aristos might tell Itzel that she was also pretty but she didn’t think she was pretty like Camaxtli was. Her beauty came from something more than just skin cells. It came from her being allowed to be herself, and to not be crammed into some mold of a proper Queen like Itzelian experienced.

Of course, all of that had changed with the Territory Court falling apart. Itzelian was free to make a lot more decisions about her day to day habits but she was still prodded and hampered at every turn. First, it had been her overbearing mother Rian. Now, with Rian...gone...that duty had been swept up by Izzy’s nanny Nenetl, who seemed all too eager to take Rian’s place as disciplinarian and lawgiver.

Nenetl had clucked and spoken disparagingly about Camaxtli from the moment the duo left the other Queen’s presence and Itzelian had hated every word that had come out Nenetl’s mouth. She was just jealous, right? Nenetl wished she was a Queen like Cammy, right? That had to be it, Izzy decided, because she could see no other reason for anyone to dislike Camaxtli.

“Drinking beer like a common peasant at noon,” Nenetl clucked once again as she moved about Izzy’s room, picking up clothing to be washed. “She should know better. A proper Queen would have not…” Izzy had tuned Nenetl out at that point, thinking back to the foamy, cool beer. It had been tasty and she could find no reasoning for it to be deemed bad to drink before sunset.

As the mind often did, Izzy’s went wandering down memories, following their little links until she settled absently on another incident, one similar to today, that had happened a few years ago between her and her aunt Erisian. Rian, Izzy’s mother, had done everything in her dark power to keep Erisian from influencing Itzelian, and the reasons for that ranged from Erisian’s supposed madness to Erisian’s misguided beliefs about everything. It had been a knotted mess of lies, half-truths, omissions -- and it all came from one side of the story, so how was Itzelian to know any better?

Ironic, that this memory also contained beer before sunset and the intricate game of moderation versus inebriation, as viewed by a young woman who rarely understood how to balance anything in her life because it was all tightly controlled for her.

Offline Erisian Maboya

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Re: The View Always Changes As You Grow Up
« Reply #1 on: May 19, 17, 02:36:19 AM »
190 AP. 2 Years Before the Eruption of the Eldest Sister at Aztlan.
Five Years since Erisian’s return from the mines.


In the half a decade since her return to Shalador and her slow journey back from the Twisted Kingdom, Rian Maboya had only sought her sister’s council as a Priestess and a Queen a handful of times. None of those times had included the young Itzelian save for reminders to avoid influencing her as much as possible. “What you learned there Erisian, it’s no good for her. She doesn’t need to know to fight a brute she needs to know how to hold the Tribes at peace. How can you teach her anything of of peace?

Those were words that burned hot in her mind and scraped sharp against her whole, healed, but still scarred chaliced. Healing didn’t mean a return to the before. It meant a new normal, it meant being happy with enough and sometimes just being willing to survive.

The things Erisian knew best were not lessons for a girl born to rule sun, rain, and rushing rivers in her domain made of of shades of green more rich and varied than any outside their Jungle would ever know. Lady Mad was the dangerous night, more panther than politician. These were things the Lady Marzena had known, and understood, before Rian’s paranoia saw the Ebon Grey Queen exiled from the trees that held the heart and longing of every Shaladorian Queen. In many ways Erisian had been allowed to know the wary, serious Queen of the Northern Province better than she’d been allowed to know her own niece.

So strange was the query that Eris needed to be assured twice of Rian’s certainty. In a flash of frustration Rian spelled out her desire too clearly and played a bold hand on what should've been  “Just talk to her, Eris. Make her understand how dangerous her position is, how careful she has to be, what she has to do to stay safe.” What Rian meant was clear, say anything you can to my daughter to make sure she comes out nothing like you.  The Priestess Queen hadn’t needed to question her sister’s certainty a third time, not after she realized the request's purpose after her sister's slip of calm.

Rian wanted her sister to present herself as a cautionary tale. As if her capture as a girl somehow happened because she, Akan, and her court hadn’t done enough. As if their had been any reason behind her suffering but a misguided attempt at wealth that once forgotten, its perpetrators long dust, left her and her court to rot for more than half a century. With a nod and no further questions, she took leave of Rian’s quarters. Eris’ sudden exit left the Priestess full of regret and a pang of powerlessness that enraged her. She wouldn't make the mistake of trusting her sister again.   

Set to a task accepted there was no protocol Rian could pull from the depths of her knowledge that could stop a Priestess Queen who wore the Black from seeing her accepted burden done.  The matriarch of their tribal line set to focus on work and took comfort that there was little harm Erisian could manage with a single conversation.  Dinner would be soon. Neither witch, regardless of her mood, was known to miss a meal.  It would be fine and she would not ask again.  One talk with Lady Mad would leave her prudent girl properly put to her place. Outside those held to Eris by their bonds of blood and oath, few understood the draw in serving a woman who at times was more Beast than Blood.

On her journey to Itzelian’s quarters she took a detour through the kitchens where she was a common site. In one arm she carried a plate of meats, bread, and strange but delicious cheeses made in Chaillot and traded as much was for the Forest’s unique and potent healing herbs. Upon it two mugs of polished, finished wood balanced. In the other Eris held a bottle of honeyed wine. Itzelian was a girl but two years from her offering. She was rarely given the space to be a Queen as she felt. Instead the teenager lived a life as what her mother saw the caste to be from her outsiders, academic view of the powers that held the teen and her Aunt’s Darkness kissed souls.

When she arrived Eris knocked but didn’t wait to be allowed entrance, using her Red to dispatch of any shields Itzelian may have thrown up to make a point.  Eyes on the young Queen, bounty of peace offering in each arm, Lady Mad cleared her throat and looked around the room she’d never been invited to see. “When was the last time you ate?” She asked, hoping that appealing to the appetite of a young witch potentially, likely vexed with her mother would delay any questions as to what had brought her calling. 

Behind her Erisian used her foot to kick the door closed and about them she carefully – as to not immediately alert Itzelian’s senses unless she attempted to leave  – put a Black lock upon it.  The quick bit of craft was a simple spell easy to conceal.  It was means to assure their privacy without seeming like the threat she’d come to understand (through much explanation) being held within a Room shielded by the Black could be.  The Priestess Queen still firmly believed the latter was the better course of action. Still, she trusted Fariq when he explained to her how things could look to those not possessing intimate knowledge of her character or surety of intent.  Leading people and understanding them did not always align.

Fortunately for Itzelian, her aunt intimately understood the frustration of being raised by Rian’s unyielding, demanding gaze. For the first time in a while she’d been presented a challenge she felt completely confident in her ability to handle.  She had no intention of cautioning Izzy to heed her mother’s often ridiculous commands. What she would be sharing? 

The ways she found to stretch her wings when under the pressure of the mantle Izzy now held -  successor to the throne of Aztlan, destined to serve as first Queen to Rule Shalador since Witch’s hateful storm.






Offline Itzelian Maboya

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Re: The View Always Changes As You Grow Up
« Reply #2 on: May 22, 17, 09:58:16 PM »
Itzelian was not sulking.

Sulking was for children. Sulking was what immature people did when they didn’t get their way. Sulking was...was...no, this was not sulking, this was...contemplating! Yes! Contemplating. Contemplating why everything had to be controlled in her life, why she was never allowed to have even the barest smidge of fun, why she…

Oh, why did it matter? Her mother was probably right. Izzy let out a long, suffering sigh at the injustice of it all. What did she know anyway? She was just a young, inexperienced Queen, trying to learn everything all at once. So it seemed. She just didn’t understand WHY things were as they were sometimes and she knew she wasn’t entirely daft else she wouldn’t be passing so many of her courses. There must be something that she just didn’t understand.

But her mother wasn’t forthcoming. Or, at least, she wasn’t making sense. And this was why Izzy was in her room, NOT sulking about their most recent altercation. She was just...contemplating it.

A few of her peers -- if they could even be called that since she so rarely got to see them! -- had wanted to go on a small shopping trip in one of the markets. Just a little fun! They would have plenty of escorts with them and there was nothing dangerous about going to the market, even if all the girls could talk about was the new vendor that sold fruity little alcoholic drinks. Everyone went to the market, right? Izzy had carefully budgeted out a few marks to spend on some personal items and even figured out the right phrasing for her question, proposing it as though it was not going to be as many girls as planned, that it was just her and another girl, with two escorts each, quickly getting a few things. If they were late returning, Izzy had prepared an excuse for that as well. And she wasn’t going to drink more than one of the drinks either. Everything was going to be just fine and to plan!

Somehow, Rian had gotten wind of how many girls were going and how many hours they intended to spend out and about and, of course, about the drink vendor. And she had come up with a suitably fine punishment of keeping Itzelian at the estate, refusing to let her explain even why she wasn’t allowed to join her comrades on their innocent adventure.

Seriously, what was wrong with a little fruit cocktail drink?

Izzy still couldn’t figure out, even an hour later of puzzling it over. It wasn’t like she was intending to get drunk! She knew her metabolism would have burned it off before a buzz really settled in. Or, so she thought. She’d never really tested it but she wore a Blood Opal and that counted for something, right? It had to, by her naive calculations. She’d never get to test that theory if she never got a chance though. If only Rian hadn’t found out about--

There was a knock at the door and Izzy’s head shot up just in time to see her aunt Erisian stride into the room, plenty of food in her arms. Izzy scrambled to readjust her posturing so that she didn’t look like she actually had been sulking. She braced herself for...for...anything, really. A heated scolding. A blast of Black power. A taunting, maniacal laugh. A spell to turn her innards into spiders.

Okay, maybe not that last one, but Rian’s insinuations about what Erisian COULD do to someone always left Itzelian’s imagination running wild. And because of that, there was a guarded set to Izzy’s shoulders as she asked, “What are you--”

Of course, she never got to finish her question. Why did no one ever let her finish her questions?

Erisian asked, “When was the last time you ate?” as she looked around Izzy’s room. There was a flash of defensiveness within the young Queen, the kind of feeling that came with a sanctuary being breached, and so easily. She stuffed it down.

Warily, she answered, “Not...recently.” At least her stomach didn’t bother to chime in on that statement. She eyed the foodstuffs and the...wine? Was that a wine bottle? Puzzlement showed on her young face. “Why?” she asked. What was Erisian doing here with food and drink? This had to be a trap of sorts. Maybe she spelled the wine and was planning to  drag every little secret Itzelian knew about Rian out of her.

Okay, maybe she needed to NOT be so over imaginative about things.

Offline Erisian Maboya

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Re: The View Always Changes As You Grow Up
« Reply #3 on: Today at 12:40:55 AM »
Itzelian experienced a flurry of emotions and a different sort of aunt would have noticed. Erisian was too busy taking in a measure of the quarters the Queenling called her own. The space provided more details about her niece than a flurry of hormones would. Lady Mad’s conclusion was that the girl was a brighter, lighter soul than she remembered being being before the mines. Such an intrusion on her at Izzy’s age would’ve seen a vicious show of hot temper from Erisian. They were very different facets of the caste they shared. What are you-- began the young witch before thinking better of even the mild phrasing. When she spoke again it was to answer the Priestess Queen’s query, her own largely abandoned in favor of new curiosity. “ Not...recently. Why?”

The level of composure Izzy exhibited in questioning the intrusion made her aunt more worried than proud. From working with Elua Erisian was learning just how much energy acting against instinct and truth could be. What kind of effort was Shalador’s new young hope wasting on acting like a polished Prince instead of a Queen from the Forest? Following a shrug the Priestess Queen used craft to float the food she’d brought down neatly before her as she took a seat upon the floor. With legs crossed, elbows resting upon knees, Eris looked up at Itzelian and offered further answer. “Fighting always makes me hungry,” there wasn’t much that didn’t make the Black Jeweled witch hungry, “fighting with your mother always makes me hungry and want a drink.”

Exhaling slowly the elder woman went on to explain. Though it could've made the conversation easier to not mention the fact she'd been asked to council Itzelian, her wild aunt was too fond of truth. “Rian wanted me to talk to you for her.” She ran a hand through the dark black hair of which she had so much despite her head’s sides being shaved. “When I put together why she wanted it, I thought you could use someone who knows that pain to listen. She isn’t an easy person to have watching over you.” Though she’d a mother of her own growing up the Grey Jeweled Priestess of Shalador played a large role in Erisian’s education and upbringing. What she imagined when considering how much more intense Rian’s pressure would be focused upon her actual daughter made worry wind its way through her gut. She soothed it with a handful of nuts that she’d brought up for their snacking.

Food made talking easier for the Priestess Queen. It was nice to have something to do with her mouth when she wasn’t sure what to say. Still chewing, far less mindful of manners than the rest of the family, she spoke before Itzelian could decide what very polite avenue of discourse to next pursue. “Want to tell me what happened?” The question was followed by a gesture at the small picnic she’d set out.  “Eat something. I brought Yarbarah because too much sugar in my liquor hurts my head. You can have a glass. I’ll see if I can remember anything helpful about getting through to Rian.








 

 

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