The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti & Question Mark]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Wistful Dream on 11-08-2009, 07:22:08</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>11-08-2009, 07:22:08</strong>
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				Sweet fragrant spices filled the air, swirled like dust motes as they were released along with the thin, undulating line of smoke that rose from the incense burning within the temple. The mix was unique, found no where else, and nor should it be, it was the scent that marked the Goddess of Fate and her Priestesses. It was sacred. Of all the Gods and Goddesses within the world, for there were many, especially if one counted the original gods offspring, as countless as the stars upon the night sky, the Goddess of Fate could only be called the North Star. She guided the lives of mortals, commanded them, decided them. All came under her rule. <br><br>And none felt that control more then Idony, the Phoenix Priestess. <br><br>For her servitude was an unending one, her life strung to the fates of all lives, bound to be within the Temple, to serve and guard the Key. To be the Key of Time. A sigh parted the plush lips of the Priestess as she walked past where the incense burned upon the alter, surrounded by her every present guard of four men. She was a vivid creature, showing the fire that was elemental to her nature with the bright vivid color of her glorious red hair. The silken tresses hung in flowing waves to her flared hips, moving softly as she walked purposefully through the silent halls of the Temples. It was a feast day, and before the noon hour none would come to the Temple, but then all would, pay homage. And she was to be sealed away within her private apartments, or in her gardens, away from the rest of the world. She was always guarded, for she held the Key, and only her powers could make the Key of Time work. It was the only power the Goddess did not have complete control of, and so it was watched, along with its Keeper like a hawk.<br><br>Her life had been endless, it felt, lived out her, time after time, always the same. <br><br>The lithe grace of her movements held anger in the lines of her body, delicate and petite thought it was. She was curvy, with the wide flare of her hips, a indented waist and a slightly above modest bosom, which annoyed her to no end when the tall, slender and willowy young Priestess snubbed her company. She was odd, she was fire, she was the Keeper. To be respected, slightly feared and never included. Inside her heart she yearned to live as they did, to laugh with one another, to joke and giggle about young men. But then the young Priestesses served only for a time, only until their Fate called them elsewhere. The guards would remain the same, as long as they lived. But only Idony was unchanging within the Temple. <em>How many centuries have I lived now? Seven? Nine?</em><br><br>The guards before her opened the curtains that led away from the main temple, down a hallway and into her apartments, into her gardens. She glided along them, wrapped in her flowing white robes with a underrobe of deep wine red beneath them, the color that all associated with the Phoenix. The girl, for in this rebirth she was only barely twenty now, trailed down the neat paths of the garden she had made and tended over her vast amount of previous lives, stopping when she came to a Mikado rose, leaning down to inhale the rice scent of it. She felt a fondness for this rose above all others for it was as the flame, as she was. Brilliant gold, blending into a rich orange that gave way to the blood red at the tips. It was the flame rose. On impulse she broke one free, newly blooming, careful of any thorns and carried it with her toward the fountain pool at the edge of her enclosure. It was up against the wall, the wall of three feet of white stone that kept her from the rest of the world. <br><br>Would this never end? She contemplated bleakly as she inhaled the scent of the rose in her fingers, her golden amber eyes thoughtful and wearily sad. She was as the Phoenix, for each time she died she was reborn. Idony let her eyes close as she answered herself. <em>No...not with the way things are now.</em> And her heart felt heavy for the Key that hung between her breasts upon the thin strand of gold around her neck. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>19-08-2009, 00:39:36</strong>
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				Haddren breathed deeply, letting his head loll backwards against the rough bark of a maple tree, his shock of brown hair catching on the small cracks.&nbsp; Despite the surprisingly cool air, every square centimeter of his body was covered in a sheen of glistening sweat.&nbsp; His head rolled slightly to the right, eying a patch of exposed sky between the leaves.&nbsp; The sun was on its way up, slowing in its path along the sky as it neared high noon.<br><br>When the glowing orb had just started to peek above the horizon, providing just enough light for Haddren to avoid the obstacles and pitfalls that so often trip unwary messengers, he had set out from the small coastal town of Aberdeen.&nbsp; In the backpack cinched tightly between his shoulder blades was a wax-sealed envelope: a personal conveyance for a high-ranking priestess in the Sirran Temple.<br><br>He didn't know what it was, and he didn't care.&nbsp; Ever since he was fifteen, exactly a decade before, his only concern was getting the packages to their destination, intact.&nbsp; This was an easy run: a single letter, from Aberdeen to Sirra.&nbsp; A seventy kilometer, eight hour journey, all for twenty five capo.<br><br>Haddren grinned, now flexing his tired calves and thighs.&nbsp; With work like that, why would anyone <em>not</em> be a runner?&nbsp; He undid his backpack's straps, swinging down around his body so he could reach in and pull out the waterskin within.&nbsp; Careful not to slosh any onto him - not for personal appearance, but to save the water - he took a swig.<br><br>"Long live life," he said to himself, raising the container in a salute before taking a quick, final draw of the lukewarm liquid.&nbsp; Stuffing the skin back into his backpack and cinching it tight, he stood up, gave the maple a friendly pat, and then jogged north, back onto the road to Sirra.<br><br><div align="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp;*</div><br>By the time Haddren had topped the final hill standing between him and Sirra, the sun was hidden behind a thick cloud bank.&nbsp; The air was still and cool, promising rain.&nbsp; Good, he liked rain, at least when he didn't have to run in it.<br><br>He paused on the side of the dirt path - this was a backwater road, the more traveled ones were actually paved - jogging in place as he eyed the storm clouds.&nbsp; They had gathered just south of the range of peaks that rose up hundreds of kilometers behind Sirra.&nbsp; They seemed to be holding their position and moisture, but were so thick that barely any light filtered through, turning what was normally a brilliant afternoon into a murky twilight.<br><br>By some quirk of nature, a parting in the distant clouds illuminated Sirra in the valley below Haddren.&nbsp; A massive sprawl of houses, roads, markets, and all manner of city life radiated away from the Keep, a massive fortress set into the foothills on the northern side of the valley.&nbsp; A thick river flowed directly through the middle of the valley from east to west; Sirra pushed up against its northern shore, but little more than a few docks and a fishing village populated its southern banks.&nbsp; Even though the majority of the city was a muddy brown or stony gray, it was an amazing sight.&nbsp; The gentle slope leading down into a lush valley; a river dotted with white rapids flowing before a sprawling metropolis of humanity; and the rolling Sirran foothills rising upwards into the stark, snow-capped monolith of a mountain range, over looking everything before it.<br><br>Haddren ignored it.&nbsp; <em>He</em> was more concerned about a summer thunder squall shoring the boats on the river and preventing him from delivering his package on time.&nbsp; Worse yet, he couldn't indulge in Sirra's Lower Disctrict if he was on the wrong side of the river.&nbsp; He could almost smell the rich scent of broiled fish and roasted meat, the uplifting sound of dozens of people living life and having fun.&nbsp; The Lower Districts were exceptionally rowdy during the summer; well, they were rowdy all year, but it spilled into the streets once the warm nights of summer arrived.&nbsp; Eyes on the darkening clouds, mind on the entertainment of the Lower Districts. he continued on his way.<br><br><div align="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp;*</div><br>The Temple was set snugly in a small valley, nestled in the foothills behind Sirra.&nbsp; A meandering path, flattened and devoid of obstruction from the passing of tens of thousands of people, was the only civilized way in, otherwise, pilgrims would have to trudge through dense forest to reach the magnificent compound.<br><br>A high marble wall, fitted with a majestically carved oaken gate, stretched along the southern perimeter of the Temple, greeting the bulk of visitors traveling there via Sirra.&nbsp; The rest of the grounds were filled with gardens and cultured groves of trees.&nbsp; One could find every flower known to man, from simple roses to tropical wonders larger than a horse.&nbsp; Oaks, maples, yews, pines; trees of all varieties were planted in neat rows and intricate designs, constantly tended and nurtured.&nbsp; And intricate irrigation system, the crafted canals nearly as beautiful as the plants they served, fed water to the Temple grounds, using fresh snowmelt from the northern mountains.&nbsp; Wild animals roamed freely through it all, using small paths and bridges specially built for their use.<br><br>The Temple itself was situated in the center of it all, a large structure constructed from marble and white wood, composed of gentle curves and curls.&nbsp; Sturdy columns supported a roof decorated in sprawling frescoes.&nbsp; Ornate carvings decorated the wooden walls.&nbsp; The windows themselves were works of art: though devoid of glass, they're design mimic'd shapes and figures that would enthrall an unwary eye.<br><br>The sun had began to impale itself on the jagged peak of the closest mountain by the time Haddren arrived at the Temple.&nbsp; The menacing clouds had passed Sirra by, not even a drop falling from their swollen masses.&nbsp; Haddren considered it good luck.&nbsp; Perhaps we would find a woman tonight.<br><br>He jogged up the path to the Temple, pilgrims politely making way for him once they saw the Messenger's Crest emblazoned on his tunic.&nbsp; As he came up to the marble steps at the front of the Temple, he unslung his backpack.&nbsp; "Message for Arch-Priestess Therra?"<br><br>The guard shook his head at the offered bag.&nbsp; "I'll escort you.&nbsp; Follow me."&nbsp; He smiled, then jerked his head over his shoulder at the interior of the Temple.&nbsp; With a quiet step, the older man walked in.&nbsp; Haddren shrugged the backpack onto his shoulders, and followed.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 00:39:36</strong>
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				Sunlight poured down over her, clinging a form revealed by the tight deep red silk sheath that had been beneath her white robes. Robes she had discarded upon the bench near the fountains to work in her gardens. After all, she needed something to keep her busy, to keep her mind and hands occupied, and tending her plants, especially her roses always served well to that end. The feel of fresh earth breaking in her hands, of the moist soil as she worked it through, turning it to add in touches of fertilizer and other things her plants may need filled her senses. She hummed faintly as she worked, one of the many songs the musicians often played during the festivals for the Goddess, plucking weeds from the dirt with slight tugs. Her mass of flame colored hair was caught back from her face with a simple white ribbon, a smudge of dirt marked one pale cheek as she stepped back from the bed she had just been tending. The herbs and roses, intermixed, seemed to react well to her work. <br><br>But then she knew them better then most things, they were like an imprint, always staying with her, reborn with the knowledge of how to tend them, though that was only the first of the memories that returned to fill her mind. Somedays she felt as if her mind would grow over crowded with the amount of memories she held, nine centuries of living, and yet the oldest she had ever lived to be was perhaps forty before someone tried to take the Key. She lifted one dirty hand to touch the slender gold and ruby worked Key around her neck, granted it couldn’t work without her will for it to do so, but most legends didn’t tell of that. She was bound to the Key and it to her, they were as one. If it was ever destroyed she would be as well, but then, it was by all accounts impossible to destroy, even in the flames of a phoenix. <br><br>A slight noise caught her attention and she lifted her head from contemplation of her rosemary bush, her guards, two of them at any rate, were talking to someone. They parted and the Arch Priestess Therra glided into her gardens. A smile touched the redhead’s lips as she dusted off her hands and moved toward Therra, the regal blond smiling as well and when Idony inclined her head the other woman dipped a soft curtsy. <br><br>“Sister, to what do I owe this honor?” Idony asked softly, her amber eyes curious. Therra was well known in the world outside the Temple, she was the public face of the Goddess in the ways that Idony was the secret. And Therra had been here longer then most of the Priestesses, who were really more like handmaidens to the high Priestesses. Not that Idony ever accepted any of the maidens presented for her own use. She liked her privacy. <br><br>“The Festival this day honors the Goddess, it seemed wrong that you would be left out.” <br><br>Her lips quirked ruefully then and she shook her head, touched but the feeling was not needed. “I am well use to these festivals Therra, you do not need to worry for me.”<br><br>A teasing look entered the twenty seven year old’s eyes “Well then Sister, let me say more plainly that I prefer your company to that of the others and I have planned to have a fete with you alone tonight.” <br><br>The two women looked at each other before both laughed softly and embraced, hugging. “Very well then, you know I won’t turn you away, though I fear I am a touch of a mess for a feast, though if it is merely us and my roses I doubt it will be of any concern.”<br><br>The blond smiled and clapped her hands, the guards at the entry to her gardens moved apart to allow three young handmaidens in, two carrying trays laden with food and one carrying wine and water pitchers. They kept their eyes downcast and the two high Priestesses moved over toward the fountain, settling down on a blanket one of her guards had gone to fetch and the other came with pillows for them to lounge on. The food and drink were spread out and the three handmaidens vanished, the guards resuming their positions, wordless, silent as always, but with Therra there it wasn’t silent for Idony. The two women talked softly of what the festival would bring that night, the increase in tithes to the temple and other things as well, until one of the guards surprised Idony by moving as she popped a ripe grape into her mouth. <br><br>“Lady, there is a messenger for Priestess Therra, do you wish him to enter?”<br><br>“Of course, it would be silly otherwise, let him in.” Therra’s green eyes gleamed with good humor as she shook her head at the over abundance of security measures and the two women shared a resigned sigh for the guards even as a new man, a stranger was let into the gardens. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 19:07:22</strong>
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				Haddren had a hard time following the guard.&nbsp; The inside of the Temple was filled with tapestries and statues, wall-spanning carvings detailing everything from the birth of existence to the fickle fates of notorious men and women.&nbsp; It served both as a wondrous work of art and a subtle warning: one did not lightly disturb Fate.<br><br>Pulling his eyes once again from the statue of a robed women surrounded by swirls of magic, Haddren picked up his pace, covering the lead his escorter had gained while he gawked at the artwork.&nbsp; The guard led him through the resplendent main hall of worship, then into a narrow, jarringly mundane service tunnel that led deeper into the Temple.&nbsp; He seemed to take several turns at random; Haddren would not be able to find his way out without a guide.<br><br>After a minute or so of fast-paced walking, they exited into a large, domed intersection.&nbsp; Aside from a few skylights, the area was undecorated.&nbsp; Haddren was surprised: he had always assumed that the entire Temple matched the awesome beauty of the outside.&nbsp; He was led through a doorless arch, suddenly finding himself in a garden covered in that peculiar twilight seen only near mountain ranges: the ground was shadowed and murky, but the sky above still retained its brilliant blue hue.<br><br>"Follow me," the guard said, leading him to the edge of the garden.&nbsp; Another archway, this one carved, white marble, stood in the center of a wall of bushes.&nbsp; "The Arch-Priestess is in the adjacent garden.&nbsp; Mind your manners, son."<br><br>Haddren nodded, slipping his backpack off his shoulders and undoing the simple clasp holding it shut.&nbsp; He could hear voices - two, both female - talking on the other side of the "wall".<br><br>"Hold it!"<br><br>The messenger started as another guard, a broad shouldered man with a veteran's appearance, stepped through the archway.&nbsp; He held out a hand, palm up, curling his fingers several times.&nbsp; He wanted the backpack.&nbsp; Haddren handed it over.<br><br>A second guard, just as gruff and heavily armed as the first, turned and walked away.&nbsp; As the first guard sifled through the bare supplies, Haddren could hear the second one conversing with the Arch-Priestess.<br><br>"Here."&nbsp; The backpack was unexpectedly thrust back into the messenger's arms.&nbsp; The guards moved out of the way, and Haddren walked in.<br><br>This garden was larger and better kept than the previous one.&nbsp; Cobbled walkways led between leafy bushes and under large trees.&nbsp; A small canal meandered alongside the path, the tinkle of flowing water adding a sense of peace to the arrangement.&nbsp; A few meters from where he stood was a medium sized fountain, the sort with statues arranged in a large basin, with the water flowing out of their mouths in long, arching jets.&nbsp; This time the stone consisted of three women, likely priestesses, arranged in a circle and tending to a baby deer.<br><br>In front of the fountain, lying on cushions and a thick blanket, were two women, a small feast laid out between them.&nbsp; They were lounging so that Arch-Priestess Therra faced him: her wise face looked up at him, stretching into an expecting smile.&nbsp; The other was turned away, and his position and angle hid her face.&nbsp; All he saw was a flame of scarlet hair.<br><br>Haddren cocked his head, indulging in and then dismissing a pleasant memory.&nbsp; <em>Don't be ridiculous</em> he chided himself.&nbsp; <em>Idony, here?&nbsp; Impossible.&nbsp; She's gone, don't kid yourself.</em><br><br>"Messenger, you've likely traveled far," Therra said politely.&nbsp; "Do your duty so you can go rest.&nbsp; I do believe you've earned it."<br><br>He smiled, dismissing the memory and pulling out the sealed letter.&nbsp; Still, even as he walked forward, his eyes kept darting to that brilliant red hair.&nbsp; It <em>couldn't</em> be her, could it?&nbsp; A fool could hope, couldn't he?&nbsp; Wrenching his eyes away, Haddren focused on his job.&nbsp; Careful not to step on the blanket on the ground, he positioned himself in front of the Arch-Priestess.&nbsp; "Arch-Priestess Therra, a message for you from Cleric Alyssa of Aberdeen," he intoned.&nbsp; "Do you accept?"<br><br>She nodded.&nbsp; He held out the letter and she delicately took it.&nbsp; "May the Goddess protect you," she said in way of thanks.<br><br>He turned to leave and, in doing so, saw Idony for the first time in three years.&nbsp; The brief memory when he had first seen her brilliant red hair was nothing compared to the flood of emotions he now experienced.&nbsp; There was no mistaking it: before him was his love.<br><br><em>Does she even recognize me?&nbsp; Why hasn't she called my name?</em><br><br>"Idony!" he called out, dropping his backpack on the ground, one hand reaching out for her shoulder.<br><br>Behind him, her ever-vigilant guards leaped to her defense.<br><br>It all happened so fast.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 21:50:16</strong>
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				Therra was always so polite, the redhead smiled to herself as she sipped from her goblet, thoughts trailing absently. She was called a Priestess, and indeed was the closest of all those in the temple to the Goddess, yet she had little to do with the real world, with handling people. She doubted she could be as gracious and confident as Therra, for she hardly spoke to others and had found herself painfully shy on the few times when she had been put into a situation where that was called for. For all that she chafed at the life she led, all but chained to the temple, the girl could not truly imagine anything else. For this was what had always been, and would always be, reborn each time death called or the Key was threatened.&nbsp; <br><br>A sigh parted her lips as she set aside her cup, still savoring the taste of the sweet fruit wine on her lips, her eyes lowered at first as the man, the messenger neared them. Could she even look him in the eye before her shyness kept her bound? Slowly she lifted her eyes as he spoke to Therra, her gaze taking in his height, the lean, lithe tone of his body, he was masculine and fit. His hair was loose, rich chestnut brown that made her blink, as if a memory she should remember, but no, she had never seen this sun bronzed man before, nor had she heard his voice, though it was a nice one. <br><br>And then he turned and their eyes met. His were blue, set in a handsome, strong face, though she could tell he was at times playful by the slant of his eyes and mouth, though for now they were widened n shock. Their eyes were locked together and she couldn’t look away, mesmerized by what lay in his, a wealth of teeming emotions she would have never thought to see leveled at her. Liquid golden depths showed surprise as she looked up at him, and the way he cried her name, it was of heartbreak and joy, of disbelief and passion. She had never thought to hear anyone call her name in that manner and her eyes watched him move to touch her, to reach for her skin. <br><br>Her lips parted, for a warning, but it was too late. <br><br>The guards moved forward, one with a spear ready in his hands and he stabbed it straight into the messenger’s heart. The other had a sword, and it gutted the male, spilling blood over the food and on her gown. Therra was shouting for them to stop, calling for help, and Idony felt a great sorrow well inside her heart as she stared into those bright blue eyes, unable to tear herself from him even as she started to weep. Tears scalded her cheeks as she moved forward, tugging the weapons out, her hand pressing to the man’s heart, trying to keep his blood life from spilling out, uncaring that the crimson stained her pale skin. “No…no…” she murmured, staring down at him, denying that this was happening.<br><br>It wasn’t the first time that her guards had killed someone for trying to touch her, for touching her, she had seen those deaths and mourned them, but not like this. This was wrong, something inside was breaking at the look in his eyes. She lifted one blood stained hand, ignoring the guards and Therra, left only with the world she could see through the blue eyes of the wounded man. “Fetch a healer!” she cried out, her hand softly touching his jaw, tracing it, she was drawn to this man and her tears blurred her vision as she fought with herself, unable to understand what exactly was going on. “Don’t go…please…don’t go.” she whispered to him, holding him in her slender arms. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>22-08-2009, 22:54:02</strong>
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				So much time had passed...&nbsp; Haddren had thought her gone, forever.&nbsp; He had struggled in those first few months after she had vanished, wallowing in a deep depression.&nbsp; He eventually learned to cope with it, denying her existence through sheer will...&nbsp; It was the only way he could have survived.&nbsp; They had loved in a way that he had never thought possible; her absence was unbearable.&nbsp; Haddren had never put much faith into death by heartbreak, at least not before he met <em>her</em>.<br><br>"Idony!"<br><br>She turned to look up at him, her golden eyes widening in surprise as they locked onto his own.&nbsp; Nothing had changed from his memories: the same pale skin, the firey hair, the brilliant yellow of her eyes, the gentle roundness of her face and the curves of her body hidden beneath the wraps of her silk robes.&nbsp; If anything, she looked younger, more beautiful and at peace than he could ever recall.<br><br>Out of the corner of his eye Haddren saw the guards leap forward.&nbsp; They were upon him before he could even move.<br><br>What felt like a sledgehammer struck him in the chest, followed by a sharp burning sensation driving deep into his heart.&nbsp; His breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he struggled to remain standing as the blow forced him back.&nbsp; The pain numbed quickly, but not before another lance of agony danced across his stomach.&nbsp; His hands grabbed the spear reflexively, tugging futilely at the wooden shaft.&nbsp; With his heart punctured, the blood flow to his body stopped almost immediately.&nbsp; His limbs went cold and heavy, and Haddren collapsed to the ground.<br><br>Not once did his eyes leave Idony's.<br><br>His expression turned from pained to surprised and betrayed.&nbsp; Had this been a trap?&nbsp; Had he been lured into seeing Idony, only to be killed once he tried to touch her?&nbsp; <em>WHY?</em>&nbsp; The pain was unbearable.<br><br>Despite the cold numbness that was quickly enveloping him, Haddren felt the spear pulled out of his chest, and then felt her small hands pressing on the wound.&nbsp; The pain was gone now, replaced with the cool nothingness that could only be his death.&nbsp; He could still see, but the strength needed to keep his head looking at Idony was quickly fading.<br><br>In his last moments, Haddren recalled the time they had spent together.&nbsp; Did it have to end like this?&nbsp; At least...&nbsp; At least he saw her one last time.&nbsp; It still hurt, but it was bearable.<br><br>"Idony, I f..." he managed before descending into a weak, wet cough.&nbsp; Her mouth moved, those beautiful lips forming words he could not hear nor understand.&nbsp; He smiled.<br><br>Haddren died.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>24-08-2009, 01:20:59</strong>
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				He was dead.<br><br>Idony shook, holding the body of the dead messenger, she didn’t even know his name, she had no idea where he was from, anything about him other then the purity of his blue eyes and the intensity of the emotions that had been within them when he looked upon her. Her heart clenched and she felt tears run as rivers upon her face, for she could not still the grief within her heart. Her guards stood, unsure of what to do, even as a shocked Therra went to call servants to help clean up the mess. The feast was ruined, her robes, already crimson red were stained with the strangers life blood. Arms came then, pulling the man away from her and she was too numb with shock to protest as they took him away. Idony sat frozen, almost a statue as the servants of the temple ducked and bowed around her, cleaning up the food and the pillows, taking things away for cleansing or burning. <br><br>Her garden, once a haven, now was too small, too tight around her as she trembled, shaking with the aftermath of the blood. Her golden eyes moved down, staring her blood stained skin with wide eyes. Finally, though many stood watching, unsure of what to do, Therra came and touched her shoulder. The Priestess raised blank eyes to her friend and Therra felt her heart go out to the young woman even as she urged the redhead to stand and follow her into the set of rooms that were Idony’s alone. Through the sitting room and the bedchamber, the Arch Priestess guided her friend toward her private bathing room, and undid the clasps holding the wine red sheath to Idony’s body. <br><br>The girl shivered softly, feeling the silk whisper down her body but went into the hot water of her bath obediently, like a doll almost as Therra’s kind and gentle hands cleaned her up, even going so far to wash her hair. As her long red tresses were rinsed out Idony finally seemed to stir back to herself. “Who…who was that?”<br><br>“A messenger, no one seems to know his name love.”<br><br>“We should…send to his home city, to find out, before they bury him. It is only right.” Idony felt her throat constrict with a spasm of grief again. She lifted troubled golden eyes to meet the warm green of her friends. “I..he wasn’t trying to hurt me. I know he wasn’t, he just wanted to touch me.” <br><br>Therra reached out and caressed the young girl’s wet hair “I know love, I know. Lets get you dried off and into bed.” <br><br>Idony nodded and let her friend help her from the bath, though she insisted on drying herself off; after all she had recovered enough of herself for that at least. She didn’t know why this death upset her so when she had seen so many others through out the long years. Together the two women moved into the bedroom, and Idony slipped into a simple white linen night shift, Therra picking up the silver backed brush on her vanity and guiding her to sit on the bed before she slipped behind her to brush out her wet hair. <br><br>“He will be reborn, like all good souls are. You have faith in the Goddess and she will see everything right Idony.” The flame haired priestess merely nodded, staying quiet as her friend brushed out her long hair and then with a kiss to her forehead left her. For long moments she stared into the flames of the fire in her marble hearth, just watching them move. The hypnotic motions lulled her into sleep and finally she slumped back onto her bed, sprawled out as slumber over took her.<br><br>But peace did not wait in her dreams. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>30-08-2009, 02:16:57</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				He was dead.<br><br>The two guards who had slain him followed their charge out of the garden, their weapons wiped clean and once again sheathed.&nbsp; The messenger was moved away from the oddly grief-struck priestess, his cooling body covered in the soiled picnic blanket and taken to a small antechamber inside the Temple.&nbsp; As Idony was urged into the hot bath by Therra, two grim-looking women carefully filled pitchers from a small aqueduct.&nbsp; These miniature canals ran the length and width of the Temple, a hand wide and two deep, usually set into the walls of rooms in case they're occupants were thirsty.&nbsp; A separate, smaller series of aqueducts served for washing and rinsing water.<br><br>One of the women filled a pitcher from the smaller canal, and the other prepared a series of cloths, ointments, and sponges.&nbsp; By the time Therra was massaging a rare and exquisite concoction of herbal extracts into Idony's brilliant mane, the anonymous messenger's body was being carefully bathed.&nbsp; With ointments that broke up the clotted and dried blood, and large, soft sponges that effortlessly swept it away, preparing him for consummation was fairly quick.&nbsp; His bloodstained clothes were removed and placed in a leather satchel; if anything identifiable was found in his backpack, they would be sent to wherever his home was.<br><br>The women were efficient, their experienced hands quickly finishing their task.&nbsp; By the time Idony was drying herself off, recovering from the shock of his death, the messenger was already being carried out of the washing room, the bloodied picnic blanket replaced with a fine, albeit plain, cloth sheet.&nbsp; His body, now a deathly cold, was set on a stone slab, legs and arms set apart.&nbsp; A priest, his frizzy white hair poking out from under a ceremonial cap, examined the man, ensuring that he truly was dead and beyond resuscitation.&nbsp; It was rare, but sometimes one of they're healers could bring back the dead.<br><br>"His heart is shredded," the priest had croaked to one of the caretakers.&nbsp; "We could bring him back, but he would only die again when his heart failed to beat."&nbsp; He shook his head sadly, his hair quivering around his wrinkled head.&nbsp; "One of the priestesses told me his death was the result of a dreadful accident.&nbsp; Tragic, for one so young..."<br><br>He waved a frail hand, silently instructing the women to drape the cloth back over his body.&nbsp; The ugly wound in the messenger's chest was painful to look at: a black and blue gouge, a spiderweb of bruised veins radiating out from it.<br><br>Quickly, the three people vacated the room, leaving his young corpse in the dark, resting underneath a soft, white drape.<br><br>Fifty yards away, Idony fell back onto her plush bed, exhausted, drifting into a restless sleep.&nbsp; Within minutes, she began to dream...<br><br><div align="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp;*</div><br>Her first dream was simply one of many.&nbsp; She found herself sitting in the garden, a feast for scores laid before her.&nbsp; It was unusually vivid and lifelike, even for her.&nbsp; Dozens of animals were stuffed and roasted to perfection.&nbsp; Large platters overflowing with plump, healthy fruit, bursting with life.&nbsp; A ring of goblets, each filled with blood red wine.&nbsp; Delicate aromas floated through the air.<br><br>Idony would find herself sitting on a blanket, a pile of pillows acting stacked behind her so she could lean back.&nbsp; She wore a beautiful dress, far more luxurious than the relatively simple gowns worn in the Temple.&nbsp; Her hair was intricately done up, arranged in complex knots and tails, draped in segments over her slender shoulders and down her back.&nbsp; <br><br>Surrounding her was a small garden, similar to the one where she had dined with Therra hours before.&nbsp; There was no fountain though, and the hedges slanted inward.&nbsp; It <em>looked</em> beautiful, but it felt oppressing, claustrophobic, the only stain on an otherwise idyllic dreamscape.<br><br>Above her drifted stormclouds, but the scene was as bright as day.&nbsp; There was no wind, no noise.&nbsp; It would be easy to feel at peace here.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>11-09-2009, 05:11:12</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				A garden surrounded her, lush and verdant, like a forest come to life, just barely cultured enough to hold the wildness at bay. Idony shifted on the soft blanket beneath her, leaning back on a few of the beautifully made pillows. The food was before her, yet though the scents were pleasing she was not tempted to eat. Instead her eyes took in the rich details of the area around her, feeling slightly out of place. She was use to the simple beauty of the Temple, it was lavish in small ways, in the quality of things, not in the amount, the color. Color was restricted for the most part, and she was the only Priestess to wear red. Red for the Phoenix. Her hand lifted to touch at the key hanging between her breasts even as her eyes moved down to her clothing. It was a gown like nothing she had ever seen before, deep dark red with black opals and blood red rubies sewn into it, much too flashy for a Priestess, yet it felt right. <br><br>A frown touched her brow even as she lifted a hand to touch her hair, feeling the odd intricate updo. She never did anything with her hair but perhaps pulled it back when gardening, yet there was that odd sense of familiarity again. This must be a dream. Her eyes moved around the garden, it held a vague resemblance to her own, but at the same time was vastly different. Where could she be, she felt closed in, boxed in, hemmed in by her hair and dress and the way the plants were cut. A beautiful, lavish cage. She struggled to her feet, forgoing the meal, the pillows and comfort promised to her, instead she tried to work off the suffocating dress. It took several moments of a long struggle to get it off, the dress seemed almost to have a life of its own and it did not want to let go. Free of it she was clad only in a light, sheer shift. She shook her head, she would never chose to wear something so see through. It had to be a dream. <br><br>There was a movement out of the corner of her eye and she moved after it, following the blur of a shadow through the cloudy dim light of the gardens. But the moment she was about to turn a corner suddenly the world dropped away from her and she fell with a scream. <br><br>For several moments she lay still, feeling a plush surface beneath her, a mattress, stuffed with feathers, and she sank into it. Her body was flushed with some sort of strange heat and she shivered, rolling off the bed, tugging a sheet to wrap around herself. She still had the sheer shift on, but her hair was back to normal, cascading down and flowing over her shoulders in a collection of vivid red. Her golden eyes glanced around her at the strange room she found herself in curiously. She had never had dreams like this before. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>11-09-2009, 05:57:59</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Luna Majora was two nights from full, giving the silver disc a slightly squashed, oblong shape.&nbsp; It hung over the peaks to the north, bathing the world in its stolen sunlight.&nbsp; It's little sister, Luna Minora, drifted to the south of the Temple, a thin red crescent hanging just above the horizon.<br><br>It was Majora, though, that shone into Idony's room.&nbsp; A strong gust of wind had tugged one end of the cloth curtain from its hook above the windowframe, and the entire fabric now hung limply beside the uncovered rectangle.&nbsp; It was positioned facing north, and the closest mountain, a massive monolith known as Kell, towered miles behind the foothills.&nbsp; The southern face was bathed in shadow, and Majora's light caused a faint nimbus to hand around the snow-covered peak.&nbsp; Moonlight that was not blocked by Kell fell down on the temple, and an infitesimally small patch shone directly through Idony's window.<br><br>As Majora sailed slowly across the night sky in the delicate gravitional dance it shared with Minora, a bright rectangle of silver light drifted up the wrinkle-less covers, nearing Idon'y still form.&nbsp; When it finally touched the curve of her right hip, she had begun to dream.<br><br>Only a fool would try to measure the progression of time in a dream in conventional measures.&nbsp; A minute spent wondering a dreamscape could take up an entire night, or a few restless minutes could contain hours of exploration.&nbsp; But, a clever enough person could easily link two instants, one in a dream, the other in the real world, together.&nbsp; However, only the Gods could comprehend their significance.<br><br>And so an intelligent enough observer could determine that when Idony began to toss and turn, her smooth forehead suddenly beading in sweat, her full lips twisted in an obvious expression of intense discomfort, this random reaction was actually caused by the arrival of Majora's light on her head.<br><br>The neat sheets of the priestess' bed quickly grew rumpled as she weakly squirmed in distressed slumber, and Majora solemnly continued its stately journey across the black sky.<br><br><div align="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp;*</div><br>Haddren entered the room, if the word "room" could even describe the strange limbo Idony drifted in.&nbsp; The bed was unremarkable, a gray mattress covered in gray sheets, mounted on a gray bestand.&nbsp; He was dressed in his messengers tunic and trousers, light moccasins covered his feet.&nbsp; His hair was still tousled and damp, and his clothing covered in sweatstains from his hours-long trek to Sirra.&nbsp; He was exactly as Idony had first seen him.<br><br>He walked towards her, not stopping for anything.&nbsp; Any words or actions were greeted with a small, grim, and knowing smile.&nbsp; Despite her lsuh body being clearly visible beneath the flimsy fabric of her shift, his solemn blue eyes never left her brilliant golden orbs.&nbsp; Even though the distance between them was short, it seemed to take him much longer than necessary to reach her.<br><br>Haddren was suddenly before her, and his hands, large and strong, were on her slender shoulders.&nbsp; Try as she might, Idony would not be ablt to recall him moving his arms up.&nbsp; One instant they were at his side, the next, resting calmly on either side of her neck.&nbsp; He pushed slowly, steadily, forcing her back to the bed.<br><br>His knowing smile grew slightly larger, and a twinkle of his white teeth glimmered behind his lips.<br><br>"Your dreams are mine."<br><br>Haddren suddenly lunged down and forward, as if to headbutt her.&nbsp; As soon as his forehead touched her own, there was a loud bang.<br><br>The dream went dark.<br><br><div align="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp;*</div><br>The first thing Idony will see upon awakening will be Majora's blindingly bright glare.&nbsp; The large rectangle of silvery light had framed her head perfectly.<br><br>Only the Gods knew the meaning.&nbsp; The Gods, and perhaps the dead as well.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>16-09-2009, 00:00:24</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The Priestess started when the messenger came into the strange room, walking toward her, with those same shocking blue eyes that drew her to them like a moth to a flame. Her lips parted and she fumbled for speech, what to say, to the man who's death she had caused. Her heart contracted within her breast and she shifted back on the bed, watching him coming toward her. Idony wanted to touch him, to know he was real, to beg for his forgiveness. She had acted too slowly, not enough, to save his life. His somber eyes did not show anger, nothing but steadiness, but certainty of something. <br><br>Idony glanced up at him, surprised, when he was suddenly before her in the space of a blink, and his hands rested on her shoulders. She felt like his touch burned through her to the core of her very being, to her soul, the flame of the Phoenix within her heart, her soul and brought her to a blazing awareness of the world around her. She trembled in awe of the heat and emotion that coursed through her at his touch, some age old knowledge, knowing of him, of them. Her throat worked and she trembled as he pushed her back onto the bed, her body bending willingly, pliant to his touch. She would deny him nothing, and that was for more then just making up for her mistake that had cost him his life. <br><br>The way he handled her sent a shiver of awareness through her whole body and she shifted slightly on the bed, trying to get comfortable in her own skin again. The way he smiled only made that shiver gain into a tremble and her toes curled slightly as she gazed up at him, her dark amber gaze glazed and awed. <br><br><em>"Your dreams are mine."</em><br><br>She jerked awake, coming up in the middle of her bed, gasping, one hand flying to her forehead to feel there, a slight sheen of perspiration on her brow as she trembled in her large bed under the moonbeams. What...strange dreams. She slipped out of her bed, trembling as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, going to the hearth and casting out her hands, using the fire magic within her to revive the flames of the banked fire. She never dreamed like that, only vague things, memories of lives past she supposed, nothing vivid, nothing so real and demanding of her, of Idony. <br><br>One slender hand, still quaking slightly, rasied and her small hand wrapped around the golden key that hung from her neck. No, no one had ever demanded much of Idony, only of the Keeper. No one but the eyes of that messenger, but the sound of her name on his lips when he had first seen her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt a pang, recalling that desperate, adoring sound. She could almost believe he loved her, or had, that he had known her, in some other life. Her hand loosened around the key and she lifted it up, the small golden thing resting in the center of her palm as she gazed at it. In another life. <br><br>No, no that was madness. She dropped the key and ran a hand through her long hair as she curled into her favorite armchair beside the fire, watching the flames for long hours until dawn peaked over the edge of the mountains and filtered down to the temple. It came to life slowly around her and a maid entered to bring her breakfast. She stayed still, watching the flames, sipping on her tea and thinking, lost in a half trance as she tried to understand her dreams. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>16-09-2009, 00:36:47</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The change was minor.<br><br>In the chaotic mass of combusting molecules that made up the fire, a shape took form.&nbsp; It was fluid, always moving and shifting, but there was certainly something there.&nbsp; It's edges resembled the ripples of heat rising off a white hot iron in the smithy; distorted and flickering.<br><br>It was circle.&nbsp; For a brief second it solidified, a perfect circle wreathed in flame.&nbsp; <em>Radiating</em> flame.<br><br>A quick knock came at the door, loud enough to snap someone from even the most pleasant daydream.&nbsp; A female servant's voice, muffled and tinged with the nasally quality of an allergic, called from the other side.&nbsp; "Priestess, your lunch is prepared.&nbsp; Shall I enter?"<br><br>Anyone looking at the blazing fire now would see merry flame and red-white logs.&nbsp; Nothing more.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>19-09-2009, 01:53:59</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Idony had blinked in surprise as the flames changed shape, fluid and dancing as normal but there was something more, something different about the fire in her hearth and she wasn't doing it. Her tea cup was clenched tigther, knuckles white around the fine china as she stared at the fire. Slowly a ring formed from it, like a sun, for it radiated outward, within her fire. She reached out her hand, about to touch the circle, drawn to it like a moth to flame when the sharp knock on the door snapped her out of the dream like haze and she withdrew from where she had moved to kneel before the fire. <br><br>The redhead shook her head, clearing it of wayward thoughts and nodded, before realizing that the maid couldn't see her nod. "Yes, of course." She responded, idly twining a lock of the vivid red silk that was her hair through two fingers, toying with it. Magic in her flames? But she was the only one in the temple with fire magic, wasn't she? <br><br>She glanced over as the door opened and the female servant entered, carrying a tray with her lunch, a light repast of fruit and flat bread with a sweet light white wine. The priestess summoned a polite smile to her lips, secretly grateful when the woman left and she exchanged her tea for a bracing drink of the white wine. She must have been napping, or seeing things were nothing was, that was all. She picked at her food for a few minutes before leaving it to go into her garden. There she moved among the plants, tending them, spending away the day, ignoring her body guards and all others who came and went, firmly in the meditative state that helped her get through so many centuries spent alone and silent. <br><br>As the sun dipped in the sky she returned to her room, disrobing before making her way into her bathing room, sinking into the hot water to soak away the aches that came from long hours of gardening. Her eyes fluttered, golden gaze sheathed as she slid off into slumber laying in the steaming water of her bath.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>20-09-2009, 06:11:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Idony, it's OK.&nbsp; I forgive you."<br><br>If the slumbering priestess opened her eyes, she would see Haddren stepping slowly through the entrance to the bathing room.&nbsp; He looked the same as he had the night before, in her dream: dressed in messenger's attire, still covered in sweat with deep, black splotches under his chin and armpits from the perspiration.&nbsp; His face still bore that knowing, grim look, but his blue eyes seemed more vivid, more alive than last night.&nbsp; Of course, that could just be a trick of the mind.&nbsp; A bloodied sword - the very same carried by one of Idony's guards - was gripped in a white knuckled hand.&nbsp; Haddren held it flipped over, so that the blade pointed down and behind him, away from Idony.&nbsp; A trail of blood, drops from the tip of the weapon, followed his footsteps.<br><br>The crimson was most definitely not his.<br><br>He looked over his shoulder towards the entrance of her bedchambers, then back at the woman in the bath.&nbsp; The messenger's chest rose and fell; he was breathing heavily, looking as if he had just run a dozen kilometers.&nbsp; Again, like last night, he never looked at any part of her but her eyes, even though she was fully exposed.<br><br>Haddren crouched next to the depression in the floor, laying the sword on the hard stone floor.&nbsp; He brushed Idony's damp forehead with his free hand, his face cracking into a smile.&nbsp; His hair was a little longer now, maybe half an inch.&nbsp; In the humid air, the bangs hung low over his eyes.<br><br>"It's OK, Idony.&nbsp; I'm here to take you back."<br><br>He slipped his hand into the hot water of the bath, taking hers.&nbsp; He wore a wristband, a hollow, firey circle inked onto the rough fabric.&nbsp; Haddren's strong fingers enveloped her smaller hand, and he gave a steady, loving squeeze, then pulled up, suggesting wordlessly that she get out of the bath.&nbsp; "Come on, Idony.&nbsp; This is your chance!"<br><br>The entire scene was so real, from the sight of foggy steam wafting upwards to the sound of trees sighing in the wind to the feeling of his palm pressed against her knuckles.&nbsp; If this was a dream, it put the hyperrealistic one the night before to shame.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>28-09-2009, 09:06:50</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She stirred in her bath, eyes fluttering open in confusion. Who would dare enter her private chambers, even her guards left her alone within her own chambers. Especially her bathing room. No one entered without her permission and she certainly hadn't called enter, she had been sleeping. Sleep clouded her golden gaze as she shifted in the water, it rippling around her and her flame colored hair clung to her neck and shoulders with the steam from the heat of her bath. The messenger, again. How could this be? Was she dreaming again?<br><br>He forgave her? How nice that would be if it was true, if he could really say such to her, the memory of him dying in her arms came rushing back all too soon and grief and confusion shone through her amber gaze. He moved closer, just as in her dream the night before. Yes, just another dream, but the look in his eyes, the intensity of him, of his gaze, it all felt too real, just like the night before. Yet this seemed more like reality, was she loosing her mind? She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her breasts and drawing her legs up as sleep bled from her mind to be replaced by confusion and wariness. Even with her guilt and grief he was a stranger, in her bathing room. Even with the way she felt drawn to him he was still carrying a sword, covered, trailing blood. <br><br>She had never had such vivid dreams.<br><br>Blood, a ghost, words that made her heart clench inside her breast, eyes that pierced her, haunted her. When he glanced back into her rooms she suddenly felt a flare of fear, had he killed someone? What was going on. "Its just a dream...just a dream..." she whispered so softly even her own ears couldn't hear it. When the man moved, kneeling almost by her bath and reached to touch her she stilled, not withdrawing for flinching away like she had thought she might, but rather just frozen in shock. Idony didn't know what to do, how to respond to this strange, ghostly man. <br><br>"Back?" <br><br>The Priestess's full lips parted in a echo, shocked and confused. Back to where, she didn't wish to go back anywhere, only forward, toward change, hopefully. She felt the Key, thrumming against her skin as magic awoke within it, making her start then. The man reached for her hand, touching her skin and she tried to yank her hand free, instinct making her want to flee, but the way he squeezed her smaller hand in his hold made her still again, caught by surprise and bewilderment. Yet she didn't move from her bath. Chance? Chance for what?<br><br>"This...can't be real..."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>28-09-2009, 16:37:26</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"This...can't be real..."</em><br><br>Haddren frowned at that.&nbsp; He let go of her hand, then leaned back so that he was sitting on his moccasined heels.&nbsp; The messenger was now thoroughly soaked from the sauna like room; his clothing stuck to his skin, and sweat streamed down his face.&nbsp; Unconsciously, he passed his right hand over his jawline and up his cheek, wiping the salty liquid from his eyes.<br><br>“You’re right, <em>this</em> can’t be real,” he responded simply, his expression neutral and voice flat.&nbsp; Haddren looked pointedly at her damp breasts and the arms crossed over them, specifically the golden key that hung, sheltered, between them.&nbsp; “But death unveils many truths.”&nbsp; His blue eyes darted back up to her golden ones.&nbsp; “The flow of time is uninterrupted.&nbsp; Our love – our <em>need</em> – is preserved, despite what you did.&nbsp; You will use it, and you will find me here, waiting.”<br><br>As he was speaking, Haddren had been undoing the small knot securing the rough fabric band about his wrist.&nbsp; The material was sodden, but, strangely, the inked impression of a firey circle had not bled.&nbsp; He slipped it off his wrist, dangling it by one of the strings as he spoke.&nbsp; When he had finished, Haddren grasped Idony’s hand and placed the wristband into her wet palm, then closed her fist around it.&nbsp; She found his movements irresistible; even if she objected, she found she could not act otherwise.<br><br>Then, gently but firmly, the messenger slowly kissed the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving her own.&nbsp; It was a simple, oddly powerful, gesture, expressing love and desire, protection and care.&nbsp; Haddren smiled as his lips pulled away from her skin, his hair clinging to his forehead.<br><br>“I’ll keep in touch, Idony.&nbsp; I love you.”<br><br>With those parting words, Haddren stood up, and she woke up.<br><br>Noonlight shafted in, strong and golden, through the window in her bedchambers.&nbsp; A cup of tea, still steaming in the cool air, sat untouched on a plain platter by her arm.&nbsp; As if on cue, there was a timid knock at the door.&nbsp; A nasally voice, that of an allergic girl, carried through the heavy wood.&nbsp; "Priestess, your lunch is prepared.&nbsp; Shall I enter?"<br><br>And, in Idony’s hand, still soaked from the water of the bath, was Haddren’s wristlet.&nbsp; Even then, the fiery circle inked onto the tattered fabric stubbornly refused to bleed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Keeper's Key - The Tale of Idony [Wisti &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>28-09-2009, 18:11:42</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She had upset him. Why did she suddenly feel so horrible for doing so? He was a stranger, a man who had died in her arms yes, but why should his emotions bother or affect her? He was a ghost,a stranger. She kept telling herself that, wondering if she would start believing it soon. And somehow doubting that she found. When he sat back, no longer touching her she relaxed a touch, her back pressed up against the slick marble of her bathing tub, her crimson hair wild around her, plastered to her with the damp hair and giving her a odd, shimmering beauty in the faint fog. <em>Just a dream...just some odd dream...</em><br><br>The man spoke then and she looked at him with worry, he was admitting as much, yet here he was, a bloody sword by his side and his eyes burning into her mind. When his gaze dipped lower to her breasts she stiffened, not because he might look at her as a female, no, his interest was the golden Key, the Key all wanted. No one wanted Idony, she had learned that over and over, through out the countless, unending centuries of her existence. And then his words sent a blow of shock through her, making her body loosen from its stiffness, love. Death showed truth? She would have never thought that, death was an end for most people, and for her it was merely starting over again, alone, unknown, unwanted. Her purpose was simple, guard the Key, be the Key; yet here this ghost offered a complication she was not sure she had the strength to resist. Love, need, she had longed for any of those emotions, was it love that stayed her from screaming, from trying to get away from this messenger even as he frightened her? He was commanding her to use the Key, to find him, before his death and she felt uneasy for that. She was never suppose to use the Key, no one was, not truly. <br><br>When he took her hand she was too surprised still to do much, her smaller hand accepting the wristband, shivering at the feel of the course material against her soft skin, at the prick of it, it felt so real. Like this whole impossible moment of time. Her eyes stayed on him, golden depths playing with uncertainty and yet the faintest hope. Someone could love her enough to haunt her after death? To want her, and not the Key she guarded? The feel of his lips pressed against her hand sent a soft shiver through her, the heat, the need that woke in her left her awed. and the look in his eyes, the way he handled her, loving, tender, yet powerful and sure. She was his in his eyes, Idony may have known little about the world but even the Priestess could read that from this man. <br><br>"I....Haddren...." she murmured just as he stood up, shocking herself with his name. She knew his name? It was a dream, just a dream. A wonderful, vivid dream. Perhaps she had gone slightly insane, sealed away in the Temple for so long. She woke suddenly, blinking and trembling as she shifted in the hot water, glancing around herself in shock. Sunlight filled her bathing chamber now and its silvery light did not sooth her. She opened her hand up slowly, staring at the wristband that still lay within her hold, she had taken it from her dream. The dream...was real, in some strange, mystical manner. She felt the Key heavy around her next and trembled again, her thoughts whirling and swirling together like a tempest, she did not know which way to go, or what to do. Yet the servant girl spoke and she parted her lips, too awed for a moment to speak.<br><br>"I....just leave it next to the fire, I'll see to it in a few moments. Leave me be please..." she called out, slowly pushing herself up from the bath, the water sliding down her creamy skin and she wrung out her long hair with her free hand, stepping from the bath onto a rug placed before it, to ensure she didn't slip getting out of her bath. Wait, lunch? Sunlight...not moonlight. The whole day, the long day gardening, all of that had been a dream? What was going on?<br><br>What if it wasn't the Key he wanted her to use? What if she had to die to be with him? Only, could she really die? She had never wanted to before, but since her spirit was tied to the Phoenix she doubted it, reborn, over and over again. No, it had to be the Key. The Priestess tugged a towel around herself, listening for the sound of the door being closed again to her chambers, she was alone. She slipped from the sauna of the bathing room into the heat of her own bedroom, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, a tray with her supper waiting on the table near it and the arm chair she favored. <br><br>She went, picking up the goblet of wine, a deep, rich red for the night and she drank it back, trying to settle herself, playing over the dream in her mind, her hand clenched around Haddren's wristlet. <br><br>"Haddren....his name...." she mused softly outloud, still surprised with the knowing of it. <br><br><em>"I love you.”</em><br><br>Her eyes fluttered shut remembering that moment, the look in his eyes. Yes, the ghost, or the man, whatever he was, he did love her, even her untutored heart knew that. She took another deep drink of the wine, but to use the Key? To become free. Idony curled into her chair, her slight body easily folded up an picked at her lunch while drinking deeply of her wine. This was not a decision to be made lightly, but what else could she do but search for him? <em>Goddess help me...</em>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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