Web of Lies

Kavlier

The blood ran cold while it dripped from the sky. Kavlier’s face was upturned, his hands spread wide while he took in the sweet tang and metallic scent of the atmosphere right then. Crouched beside him was the Snow White within his life. Hair as black as death and lips as red as sin, her skin was paler than the dead that surrounded them with large splotches of scarlet that randomly fell over her face and hair.

Kavlier watched the rain, the blood rain of the dead from war, while his Snow White was close by the ground in silence, her body still as stone, her hand held a dagger pressed into the ice, cracking the frozen earth they stood on.

“Must we leave?” Kavlier nodded with a gruff clear of the throat. He heard the crunch of frosted bones and brittle cries of those who clutched onto what was left of their life. “Blood as sweet as gold and cries as melodic as Mira while she plays her violin like a puppeteer plays the puppet.”

Kavlier did not comment, but Mira did in reference to her own musical talents. “That is what puppeteers are or, no? That is the way of life, yes? You have a crafter and you have what is crafted, whatever the crafter’s creations have done - or have undone - is consequential to those around the crafter, yes?”

Afrillia walked past Kavlier analysed the impaled figure of Dios, her companion in an adventure that seemed to have been a thousand years ago. “Aye, that is true, Mira, however truer words have been spoken and you have not yet reached your point of honesty,” she touched the end of the javelin, both sides have been sharpened and while her finger touched the point a blossom of blood appeared, growing large until she tipped her hand sideways and watched the blood tear travel down her finger in a warm trickle before it let go and fell onto the snow beneath Dios.

“You mean Dios?” Her tone was amused but her expression stoic while she shifted her gaze from Afrillia to Dios. “Afril, you must learn, never pity the dead, pity the living and all the souls we have yet to destroy.”

Kavlier brought out a dagger from beneath his cloak and rubbed the hilt absentmindedly, the movement caused Mira to change her position, she stood up and pulled out an arrow from her quiver. “Why are you to tell me who to pity and who not to pity? I have never left a suggestion of any remorse towards Dios, may he rest in the pieces of the Realms,” Afrillia ran her bloodied finger down the javelin. “I do pity those who surround themselves with the likes of you and your love,” Kavlier stared at Afrillia unwavered. “What, brother? Has my words upset you and your mountain of a pride?”

Mira bristled and frowned. Kavlier stared over his sister’s shoulder in indifference. “Kavlier, you mustn’t be interested in the words of your sister, she has not felt the suffering you have,” Mira turned to see what he was so infixuated with once she realised he had not heard a word she said. “Kavlier, what do you see?”

That had caught Afrillia’s attention, she scrutinised her brother’s eyes, shaded with the hood of his cloak but as clouded as ever, the deepest shade of violet pierced through the darkness of his hood when he angled his head interested.

“Brother, what do you see?” Afrillia asked a haze of snow already begun to swirl around them noiselessly. “Is it them, your imprisoners, are they here, brother?”

Kavlier pushed past both Mira and Afrillia, his dagger cut a thin line over his skin from where his elbow joined his arm to his wrist. The line bled and drops of his own ivory ichor trailed behind him as he pushed his hood back to reveal a natural mess of copper hair smoothed back by his winnings.

Afrillia’s senses sharpened at the second input of blood from the three, she could smell the flowery smell of Mira while she brushed her palm with the edge of her arrow. Mira had her hand in a fist, her eyes closed and her body still once more. The blood was escaping through her hold and when Mira’s eyes flashed open, a vibrant emerald that shocked Afrillia after all the paleness she had become accustomed to.

Golden droplet were accompanied the passageway Kavlier had created, Afrillia strode to Dios and pulled out her javlin, he dropped down heavily, as if relieved. Her javelin was warmer than the suns of Sareun and she held it with ease, her own gifts aided in her powers of flame.

Kavlier paused at the riverbank of the kingdom. His posture relaxed while he relayed the events and thoughts and visions in his mind. “Sister dearest, a portal would be of use now.”

*

If you're confused, you're meant to be, this is just some random thing I came up with right now while being bored out of my mind and doing homework. I'm trying a new style and trying to make my experience on writing vaster by trying to write semi-dark. I don't know how well I did, but whatever, I tried and it was interesting writing this.

Enjoy my weird, whatever the heck this thing is called, comments and votes are very much appreciated :)

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