What happened after this. Oh trust me the story took me way longer than doll making. Writing a story can be a mentally exhausting experience...anyway, hope you enjoy. Ensil (lieutenant) Cyrus belongs to @2BlueWizards, Mistress Sídera belongs to @The_Nameless. Nameless, I'm not quite sure what you have her in mind so I kinda based her on that pirate lady OC of yours, please tell me what you think. Story continues here #TwilightRealm#Story
Thank you ladies! Oh GoT, can I just say I love and hate GoT, well I never watch the series, I just like to know the plots and characters, if that makes sense.
:OOO This chapter was so interesting!! The villain revealed himself and his intentions, oh no! I think we have all understood whom that dagger is for :(( Also I love how you're trying to include all our OCs in the story, Sidera looks so cool!! And the doll itself is amazing, love the background! ( btw "you win or you die" *Cersei Lannister approves*)
The Damian fell in utter silence, he stood there like a statue, did not move, did not speak, just stood there, for what seemed like a century. Eventually, he dropped a pouch on the desk, then whirled around, darkness quickly engulfed his receding figure. "I trust you will make the wise decision." Sidera whispered to herself as she hauled over a black flask and pulled out the plug. Three firefly-like insects hovered over the opening. "Follow him, find his marks and follow them."
Sidera shook her head, "But the pyramids, the colossus, and the great walls rose in its place. However much we despite humans, they always look to the future. They do not clutch to the past as we do, they forgive, let go, adapt and evolve." "Why put so much faith in men." the man inquired. Sidera bowed her head, "Men's blood flows in our veins. Giving them a chance? Rather give ourselves one."
"A madman drunken by blood, he sees nothing..." Sidera echoed in a sigh, "My sisters, they are drowned in the blinding hatred...oh their ignoranceâ¦ignorance begets fear, fear begets hatred, hatred begets death, death begets discord. This is a never-ending vicious circle..." The Damian let out a grim laugh, "Discord is men's nature. Segregation and hatred, they are men's nature. When the tower of Babel fell, men are doomed to live in chaos."
The witch jerked her head towards a red sigil on the wall, smoke puffed out from her mouth and nostrils. The Damian, now inside the light, closed his eyes for a moment. Shadow sculptured his stern face, frowned brows, straight nose, thin lips and sharp and strong chin. With a sigh, Cyrus beckoned the woman forward, he held out his hand, palm facing upward, with a heave they were shrouded in a barrier of black mist. "Lugal Iudocus is a man of madnessâ¦" Confided the Damian,
the formless sense of compression. 'Dumbheadâ¦' Drawing heavily on her cigarette, Sidera hurled the butt out in frustration. She leaned back against her desk, her glare burnt into the redness underneath his hood, "You know what I mean, warrior. We both know there is no future for the old ways..." Knowing the witch to be a bold one, Cyrus was jolted still. He tramped one step backwards, eyes widened in shock. "This place is well-protected. Seems you're too preoccupied to notice the veiling spell."
The woman flipped the ash off her cigarette, she sighed out smoke and watched it dance. "First the news of a Lylthian loner, then you ordered a weapon from me, and finally, SHE appeared in the same city. Celebrity like her doesn't go unnoticed. Putting things together, we both know who you're afteringâ¦" One stride the Damian was in front of the witch. He bent over, face pressed inches above hers. "Silence, Iron Mistress, is gold." Direct and succinct, the typical Damian coldness,
"We do not have a choice, Mistress. Our world is broken, like a pile of loose sand. We live to its rules, or we climb high enough to make the rules." No emotion was there in the manâs cold voice. "How?" Snorted the Witch, âBy presenting the head of the only one who has the will AND strength to unite us under one banner to Lugal (Marshal) Iudocus?" The Damian, though hidden well in the shadow, went visibly stiff immediately. "What you implied, I do not understand."
Sidera rolled her eyes, "I did not know you are so eager to climb up the ladder." The witch turned around to rummage her desk and pulled a packet of cigarette out from under a pile of blueprints. She lit one up, heaving the rest inquiringly at the man, who rejected by a wave of his hand. "It is our life, you win or you die." Sidera barked a brittle laugh, "And you said as if it's a good thing."
