As Benedict stared down at his dead brother, a tall handsome man entered the room. He was cleanshaven, with a...glowing?...blade strapped across his back. A white shield was strapped on his arm, and a rather intricate horn hung around his neck. Otherwise, he was dressed entirely in black. He nodded to Llewella, then Eric, then spoke, "Empress, Lord Eric, it is good to find you both still alive."
Ben looked up and studied the stranger. There was a subtle resemblance somewhere, and he felt like he was missing something.
Eric's reaction was entirely different. His hand few to the sword he carried, and a flicker of fear crossed his features. Then, Eric relaxed, "Lord Heimdall. A pleasure."
The stranger, Heimdall, replied dryly, "I fear there will be little more pleasure on this day, Lord Eric, even with the arrival of my brothers and friends." Then, the resemblance struck him...this was...a cousin. A new and queer sensation washed over Benedict, one he wasn't certain he could readily identify. He was both happy and jealous, it seemed, though more on the jealous side.
Llewella stood and squared her shoulders. "I fear that is only too true, Lord Heimdall," she said, her voice trembling only very slightly now. "I am likewise glad to find you numbered among the living. But on behalf of Amber's Royal Family, I must beg your pardon. You have come upon us at a moment of gravest distress, as I am sure has not escaped your notice."
Eric glanced from Heimdall to Llewella, watching her as she spoke, then back to Heimdall. "Lord Heimdall," he said slowly, "You speak of the Host of Asgard... how long until their arrival?"
"Yes, Empress. Your words were clear to me, even as I observed the rising sun out beyond the walls of your good castle here. I am sorry to interrupt, but I came to confirm a pair more of tragedies. Nearly an hour ago, I heard a neck snap, in your tower. Another drew a bath nearly ten hours ago, and has yet to leave it. As for the host of Asgard, Lord Eric, I know not how long till their arrival. I have been in Amber, since Llewella brought me last night. They have not entered Amber, as of yet though. The Barrier still stands. Nor has any of them deemed to trump me, nor I them." He stood, in a relaxed stance, the words flowing with an ease as if he were delivering the weather, but with a lack of emotion that seems eerily similar to Julian's own voice. Benedict felt he knew what made him uneasy about this Heimdall now...with such...emptiness it made it hard to fight a man like that. Their eyes gave away nothing of their intentions; it was as if they were empty inside. Any happiness Benedict might have felt to having cousins was quickly squelched after that realization.
Llewella's shoulders sagged a little as Lord Heimdall told of what he heard. When he finished, she said, "Thank you for the information, Lord Heimdall. Your assistance is appreciated. While our welcome of your kinsman cannot now be as glad as it ought to be, a place is being made ready for them here, and Amber will be honored to receive them." She put a hand to her face, seeming to lose what she was saying for a moment, her expression empty. Then finally she concluded, forlornly, "And now my family and I must discover what has become of our own."
"Well, you can count Caine and Julian amongst the here and dear, Llewella." Caine shouted out, his earlier grief seemingly gone, as he held his brother from falling as he descended from the hole in the ceiling, a set of large angelic wings easing his descent. Benedict looked up briefly. In the confusion, he hadn't noticed Caine had left. He resisted the urge to put a hand to his forehead...but he felt hot, and uncomfortable, and ... just tired. Very tired.
Bleys, having been huddled close to Fiona for the last few moments, now rose to his feet. Looking down to Fiona he said quietly, "Yes. I don't believe that's his style, but go check."
Fiona cocked him an unsual look, one of those 'excuse me' looks.
Bleys turned to the Lord, "Which of us has 'drawn the bath'? Perhaps there is yet time."
"Ten Hours, it is much time for a bath...they have left not even now, with the commotion that has happened. However, I know you all not, so I could not possibly name you. Well, not all of you, at any rate." Benedict blinked again. Drawn a bath? he wondered dully. Died Who? What? Instead of voicing his confusion, he kept silent, trying to track what was being said.
Bleys looked a bit miffed at this, "Sex? Hair Color?"
"Female, or a light and vocally hi-pitched woman. And, as for hair color...my eyes are good, but they cannot see through walls." Flora? Benedict thought, shaking his head slightly. No. It can't be. Not another one. Not her. No.
"Flora. Has to be," Bleys said quietly. He looked like he's preparing to leave the room to head for her quarters but he pauses for...
Bleys turned to Fiona again, "We should get Gerard put into stasis immediately.. the others too.. perhaps later there will be something we can do for them.. however unlikely it might seem now." Others? There was more than one? Benedict felt his stomach turn, and almost swooned there. He definitely felt hot; there was just something wrong here.
"There are steps I can take, when preserving life is not an issue...no sense in involving the 100, till it is necessary." Fiona answered, definitely not liking her younger brother trying to order her about.
Bleys flicked his cloak back behind his shoulder, looking remarkably like he's got his shit together again. Bleys sensed her irritation.. and was honestly befuddled, "I asked your advice sister. Nothing more."
From above, as Caine finally touched down, "Away from him, you two. He has died...and I won't let you practice your magicks upon him. He shall have a burial worthy of a sailor and a soldier...Julian and I shall see to that."
Fiona, for her part, stepped back, betraying no emotion to Caine's obivous display. "Fine, fine. We won't let the dead further divide the living. Will we Bleys?" As she laid a pre-emptory hand on his sword arm, attempting to cease any such displays on his part.
Bleys gently removed her hand, and turned to Caine, "If we could perhaps save him, would that not be enough to warrent our interference, brother?"
"Bleys, he's dead. There was nothing left in there, else I'd have found it. What made Gerard Gerard is gone, forever...and I don't want to see his body prodded and pocked with your magicks. He deserves a proper burial, not to be made into an experiment."
Bleys shrugged, "We are but children to this universe.. who can say what lays just beyond our powers. I would recommend otherwise.. but in the end it is your choice."
Bleys shrugged, waiting a moment for a reply.. or anything else to happen, then will head out towards Flora's quarters.
Julian was staring at Gerard. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he walked to his brother, stopping just short of touching him. For a brief moment he squinted, as if he had difficulty in focusing his gaze on Gerard's features. Then he turned and coldly walked away, without looking back. "Brief me", he said to no one in particular.
Seeing tensions start to rise, Llewella finally collects herself. "Hello, Julian." Without waiting for his reply she turned to look around the room. "Caine, please do look after Gerard...for the time being, I think the infirmary is a suitable place for him to rest. Benedict, this room should be sealed off for now, once we have cleared it...I assume that would be within your province. Fiona, if two...if we know two of them are here in the castle, that leaves several people unaccounted for yet. I think Benedict's suggestion was a good one; try to locate our other siblings, please, by any means at your disposal. Eric, I am told that you left the library in rather a state last evening. It's only fair that you should do something about it, as we have guests coming and the librarian will be unprepared for a disaster area when he returns."
Then, she turned back to Lord Heimdall. "Lord Heimdall, I thank you again for your assistance in this matter, from the bottom of my heart. Castle Amber's hospitality is yours, insofar as we can arrange it. Julian, this is Lord Heimdall of Asgard. He is staying with us here in the castle for a time. Please assist him with anything he needs until the staff has returned.
"If anyone needs me, you've all got my Trump." And with that, she turned and walked from the room.
As she began to walk by, Lord Heimdall stepped in her path, to whisper something in her ear.
Caine, for his part, looked over to Julian, mumbling under his breath. "OK, shaddup, so she might have potential."
Fiona, for her part, merely tossed an unreadable look to where Bleys stood, and Llewella both, and them moved over to speak with Eric.
I need to say something, Benedict thought to himself. He stretched his neck to the side a bit, his only concession to the heat he was feeling, and how uncomfortable he was. This isn't real, but I have to say something. The two thoughts in his head weren't entirely incompatible, so finally he said solemnly, "Unfortunately, we need an autopsy." When people looked at him, Ben realized he wasn't dreaming, though it felt like it. His face felt flushed too. He looked down to Gerard, and seeing that perfect form there, with no injury apparant made it seem all the more surreal. He looked up again, the awful perfect body more terrible than the broken one minutes ago. "He had been practicing...something...some type of craft, and the destroyed the life in at least one, if not more, Shadows. We should find out what it was, at the very least." He paused, looking around. He wanted to scream at them, to make them react, to make them feel what he felt, so he could finally feel free to express his own grief. Emotionless faces stared back at him, and he felt trapped.
"And if not that," he continued slowly, "there should be spells to find out what had happened to him between his talk with Caine and the moment he died. I, for one, want to know."
He fell silent, waiting for some confirmation.
"An autopsy will do you little good, " Caine began, spitting his words out at Ben. "I repaired Gerard's body totally when I was trying to spark life back into him. Whatever energy might have been in him before, it is all gone now, and his body is how it was." The tone in Caine's voice made Ben want to slap his brother, but he stayed his hand.
"Those of the blood are not like those who are not. Once the eternal light has been snuffed out, there is no rekindling possible. Only if some other force intervened...stole it before it was snuffed...could it be regained. Even then, conventional sorcery cannot summon it. You'd have to find it first." Lord Heimdall entered the conversation, and like Benedict then again lapsed into silence. At least his words weren't sarcastic. The hollowness of them weren't comforting, but they weren't hateful. That was something, at least.
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