4580/In The Forgotten Halls

In The Forgotten Halls
Date of Scene:	21 September 2016
Location:	The Great Ruin
Synopsis:	Aborted Scene - An Eldar and a Death Metal Queen stumble across one another.
Cast of Characters:	975, 995

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Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The Ancient Ruins. Far beyond the dipping waters the ruins stretch, slowly creeping from the abyss to present ancient architecture bones to the dark sky above, water gurgling and splashing through ancient byways while devices of power are hidden amongst the endless paths and mazes. A moon kissed sky above shatters against fountains and dew dappered foilage alike, the place run amuck with plants that dig deep into forgotten stone works. A place for reflection, perhaps, or a place to search for powers unknown.
A place to suffer and perish, if one was not careful.
And in the darkness, a cold fog creeps about the tree roots like smoke across knuckles, touching all with frost as it slithers and moves like a living thing. Tendrils cling and pull slowly away like ethereal webs, building and sighing away again and again. But this is no ordinary creation; No. For in its midsts walks a broken creature, bare feet daintily stepping over flora, the soft patter of ebon ichor dripping from a hidden face against the few paving stones left; Black Tears, metaphor made real as liquid sorrow.

Ela'Ashbel (995) has posed:
Among the ruins is the suspicious figure of an Eldar Farseer. Ela'Ashbel and several of her warlocks have secluded themselves away in a small alcove and sit around a fire. What are they doing in the ruins? What could the ever devious Eldar be up to!?

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Suspicious indeed!

Perhaps it is the fire. Perhaps it is their presence. Perhaps it's simply that something with warm breath has invaded the black hearted bitch's perephrial vision. Whatever the reason, the Queen of Tears pauses in her winding journey. Bare feet turn, disappearing beneath the tendriled hem of her slinky pitch dress. The patter of tears falling from her pale blue chin in sharp contrast to the sharp, bright white smile that lances from behind darkened lips.

Fingers of the strange fog creep in at the corner of the alcove, hugging the walls as if they hated the fire - but dared not go closer. The silouette slowly approaching, not walking so much as gliding like a ghost; Her voice singsong in the near silence night, sighing with the sea-stained wind.
"And then a golden flash like the onset of Heaven, leaving her screams breaking my heart.."~
A soft, chanting singsong.

Ela'Ashbel (995) has posed:
Few can sneak up on a group of warlocks, particularly one with a farseer as talented as Ela'Ashbel among them. She stands, replacing her helmet upon her head and plucks her witchspear from where it leaned nearby and prepared to greet the strange woman. "State your purpose."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The figure pauses near the alcove, swaying slowly, head down. Her singsong whispering away, before she lifts her head. Bright eyes, made brighter still in juxtaposition to pale blue flesh and the streaks of black ichor that run down her cheeks like ruined mascara. The path of the Black Tears that even now drip from her jaw. Black lips pull into a bitter, cruel little smile as she lifts her clawed hands in mock supplication.

"Misery." She answers, before beginning to tick the answers off clawed fingertips.
"Mayhem. Monstrosities. Malovence. Maliciousness. Maleficience." A pause, and a broken giggle. "Murder."
And then she sways to the side, pressing her back up against a stone pillar, head tilted back. That cold, quiet smile still on her face as her eyes flicker down to the Witchspear. Noooot willing to come much closer.
"And you? Nice ****'ing helmet."

Ela'Ashbel (995) has posed:
There is no expression to read thanks to the eldar's helm, but it is unlikely that she hs pleased with what the stranger has to say. "Those words do not speak of good intent. I recommend you depart." Ela'Ashbel states flatly, her voice distorted slightly by her helmet. "Our business is none of your concern."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"Mm hmm~"

Begins the dark creature, as the broken giggles erupt from it again. Before she - well, lies. Pushing away from the stone pillar at last, the Black Tears that fall from her eyes evaporating into an ectoplasmic smoke before they hit the ground; Curling up and around her form as her chin rises.
"Well, when it's in my ****'ing house it is. Besides.. good intent is overrated." A flash of white teeth, before claws come up in a shrug. "But hey, it's cool. You must be new here. Oh, hey.." Eyes flick down again. And her head tilts a bit as she glances to a particular little 'stone' in the armor.
"Now that's something new. None of the other ones I found had it.."

Ela'Ashbel (995) has posed:
Ela'Ashbel is by no means thrilled with their respite being interrupted by a clearly madwoman. "I suspect this is not actually your house." The Eldar retorts before leveling the witchspear at Ophelia. "A creature such as yourself is not welcome among us. You should depart before trouble finds you."