PastSins(continued from Like Mourners at their Own Funeral) The dimly lit room smelled of brandy and musk and pine. Creatures of scale and fur and claw lined the wood-paneled walls; their powerful bodies posed in various acts of aggression. Walking under their watchful gaze inspired gooseflesh, as they seemed to move and shift when not observed. Any free wall space was used up with bookshelves or paintings – usually landscapes. A large fireplace blazed in the western corner; nautical clocks and model ship resting on the mantle. A large, four-poster bed filled the end of the room. Upon Gerard’s entrance, the naked woman curled up on the sea of pillows sat up and grinned languidly; canine teeth flashing. Her twin-fox tails flicked as she leapt across the room and into his arms. “Pookie-bear!” She smothered his chest and neck with bites and kisses. Gerard slung the squirming fox woman over his shoulder, “Yokai. We have company. Behave.” Gillian thought she got the taxidermy, but the naked woman with fox tails living in Gerard's bedroom and waiting for him to show up whenever was completely out of her realm of experience. Not even dancing with Shiva compared. Temnal had seen both weirder taxidermy and more unusual paramours in Chaos, but nevertheless he lowered his eyes in a gesture of respect. [Yokai] smiled at Gillian and Temnal from her vantagepoint, wriggling her furry toes. “Oooo. Is it game night, already?! Mrmm, I get the short one. She looks like a blusher.” Her pink tongue flicked playfully - revealing her secret for such well-groomed eyebrows. Gillian's eyes went wide. She stole a glance at Temnal and mouthed, "Game night?" Temnal's expression in return communicated wordlessly, I don't want to know. Gerard slapped her bare ass, laughing. “Behave!” With Yokai in tow, he walked across the room, “Now, which Trumps will you all be needin’?” Thank the Unicorn Ginger was not here right now. Blushing despite her best efforts not to, Gillian looked anywhere but at Yokai when she answered Gerard. "One for Cybele. And Brand." "Those are the ones we can test," Temnal agreed. Gerard moved a painting to reveal a small space beyond. Too dark – and mostly blocked by Yokai’s shameless squirming – the contents remained hidden from view. He reached inside, rummaged for a moment, and then finally returned the painting to its original position. “Here ye are,” he said, offering them two Trumps. They were definitely old – definitely painted by Dworkin’s hand. They tingled in the hand, radiating with true power. "Thank you," Gillian said gravely. While they examined the cards, Gerard carted Yokai over to the bed – and tossed her back like a squirmy pillow. “You. Stay.” Gillian studied the two trumps, paying especial interest to the one of Cybele, then handed the Cybele trump to Temnal. "Would you like to try contacting me first? Then I will try you." Taking the card from her fingers, Temnal nodded. Then he moved over to the other side of the room and stood with his back to Gillian as he stared at the Trump of Cybele, willing it to come to life. At the same time he drew on his Other's knowledge to shield the call from any other, outside influences. After a headachy twinge, Temnal felt the card go cold in his hands – the silvery chill of a Trump contact being established. Across the room, Gillian sensed someone holding her Trump. By chance, she held the Trump Artist’s card in her hand; Brand’s card cooling in her fingers. She realized, without even trying, she’d just Trump Scryed – a defensive technique known by most Trump Artists. Gerard and Yokai watched on in silence. <Gillian?> Temnal mindspoke to the image on the card. Gillian smiled at Temnal. <I'm here. It was a long shot, but it looks like the old trumps will work for us. Finally, some good news! Now let me try you.> She dropped the contact and held up Brand's trump, concentrating on it. <Hello, hello...?> Temnal could hear the words perfectly. He could also sense the tremendous power lucking on the other end of the contact. As could Gillian. Even with their conscious and unconscious defenses, both recognized the divergent Trump ‘auras’ the other possessed. Each person’s Trump manifested in a different manner – as if they viewed reality from a differing philosophy, and Reality conformed to that belief system. Both instinctively felt a surge of jealousy and envy – yearning to possess that divergent knowledge for themselves. <I'm here,> Temnal responded to Gillian. "I had no idea Brand was that...strong," Gillian blinked. A proprietary "Cybele-was-the-one-that-created-the-True-Trumps-and-so-should-know-the-most-about-it" indignation flashed through Gillian's thoughts, only to be quickly squelched. "I did not truly ... know Cybele until now," Temnal said slowly. Or why my invidious sister murdered her, he found himself thinking. Jealousy. The word trickled through Temnal’s memories like a toxin. Fiona had worshipped her big sister for years. But in the end, disillusionment and petty desires ruled his sibling’s heart. She’d murdered Cybele to steal her secrets. But Cybele had carried her secrets to the grave. She's never been able to stand anyone being able to do something she can't do herself, Temnal thought. She abruptly cut the contact and smiled again at Temnal. "Looks like success with Brand's trump too. Assuming Gerard has trumps for Finndo and Osric, that leaves only creating a new trump for Pelegeya." Gerard lifted his head at the mention of his name, “Aye. I have Trumps of those Living and Gone. Father named me Amber’s historian, so it comes with the territory. If you want your old armor and such, that can be arranged as well.” Temnal shook his head slightly, not in negation but as if shaking off unwanted thoughts. "Yes," he agreed, "and that may be tricky. I am not sure we ... know Pelageya as well as I should like, for such a task." "Do you trust her? Her loyalties..." Gillian trailed off. Temnal smiled wryly. "Like the Baroness, I don't think Pelageya wants the Nyx to destroy Amber. In that, we are agreed. Beyond that..." He shrugged. "Who can tell? But time enough to worry about it later, after we've ensured there's going to be a later." Gillian turned to Gerard. "Osric, Finndo, Mirelle and Deirdre -- Dworkin implied that Malachi may have switched his Royal so best to be covered -- oh, and would you have a trump for Sand or Coral?" She paused, puzzled by something. "What did you mean by 'old armor'?" Gerard chuckled, “Father had weapons and armor commissioned for each of his children. He wasn’t one for teddy bears, apparently.” He leaned back into his companion’s shameless snuggling, “Wouldn’t take much to fit each set for you. Although, as far as I know, none of them are tempered against Oblivion.” "That might not matter," Temnal said speculatively, "if they could protect us against whatever we might be throwing at the Nyx." “Most will stop any tempered blade and offer resistance to the elements, natural or otherwise,” Gerard said. “They should suffice for your purposes.” He smiled warmly, “And they’d help inspire the troops, to be sure. Style does count in battle, eh what?” [Gerard] kissed Yokai’s wrist, as she wrapped her tails around his waist. “Sand is the only one without a Trump. Very cagey lass that one. I’ve one for Coral, though. Why do you ask?” Gillian's expression was pretty clearly dubious. "I've...never worn armor before. I suppose it would be a wise precaution. Um...asking about trumps for Sand and Coral because last I knew they were both residing in companions, like us, and contacting either or both of them could potentially be useful." "They were certainly helpful the last time," Temnal agreed. Gerard disengaged himself Yokai’s tails. He retrieved Coral’s Trump and offered it to Temnal. The ink appeared different, and the artist of less sophisticated talents – probably from the recent generation. Temnal took the Trump of Coral and scrutinized it closely (though not in such a way as to activate it). He didn't think it was his/Brand's work. Possibly Merlin's? He glanced up at Gerard. "Mirelle?" he reminded the older Amberite. "Also Osric and Finndo." [Gillian] shrugged. "So how does one get fitted for armor?" “Simply say the word, and it shall be done,” Gerard said. “Our artificers are already in the forges, preparing for the battle to come.” Gillian nodded and smiled. "Yes, thank you. You've been very helpful." Gerard shrugged, “Least I can do.” He glanced back at the pouting fox-girl. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to indulge in a brief bout of For-Tomorrow-We-Die shagging.” Yokai clapped excited, “Oh yes, please!” Gerard closed the door behind them, chuckling deeply. Gillian handed Brand's trump over to Temnal. "Pass these all along to Rhea, if you would." "I shall do that," Temnal promised, adding the Trump to the ones he already had. (Gillian continued in The Green Hell) |
