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Post by Honeystorm on Apr 13, 2019 12:51:23 GMT -5
Lakeveil had made it to Vrachii. Of course, she technically hadn't made it without a lot of scheming and probably a little murder here or there, but who really cared? What harm did it do if know one knew about it anyway. And those that did, well, they were likely to be keeping their mouths shut.
She sat in the den with the herbs, sorting out not healing plants, but deadly ones. Nightshade, foxglove, and the like. After all, that was her specialty, poisons. Both in administering them, and finding antidotes. It was interesting work, and something that could be incredibly useful if there was ever a battle to be fought.
The black she-cat had struggled to sleep since the reveal of her mother's untimely demise. She hadn't known of the details until she'd asked Rune – demanded, more like – and ever since her slumber had been fitful. When she did find unconsciousness, she was plagued by nightmares, resulting in her discomfort and ready hostility... more so than usual. Sighing, her skin crawled underneath her pelt as she padded to Lakeveil's den. She didn't feel comfortable with what she was about to do, but she had no other option.
"Lakeveil," she murmured, her young voice sounding too high for the weight she felt on her shoulders, "may I inquire for a favor?" She clenched her jaw to keep herself from shifting her paws in nervousness. What if she tried to poison her? Loki wasn't familiar with the differences in herbs. What could be poppy seeds could instead be night berries. She tried to repress the part of herself that wanted to run.
Post by Honeystorm on Apr 20, 2019 18:40:09 GMT -5
Days that that once been spent in other ways had now turned to studying. Poisons were her specialty, and now that she had the free reign to pursue such things, Lakeveil did with disturbing passion. She alone was such a stark contrast from Springlockedgrave. The royal was neither timid nor paranoid, no hint of mental illness plaguing her in any way shape or form. Moreover, her specialty was much darker, less focused on helping those who needed it, and more focused on hurting those who opposed the group. Of course, it could be said she was helping keep kits from getting themselves killed, and if anyone asked, she'd have told them something of the sort.
She could feel the tense presence behind her before the feline ever actually spoke, though until she did, the gray-blue feline didn't move a muscle away from her work. Even once she did, a few silent moments passed before she sorted herbs into their respective piles, brushing them almost carelessly to the side. "What is it you needed, Loki?" The Vrachii questioned, her voice a lilting purr, silvery and smooth. It was a voice one could easily trust, the kind that disarmed others and broke down carefully placed walls. Excellent for her job, but all too dangerous as well.
Lakeveil's lustrous voice and calm demeanor could attract some, undoubtedly, but to the black she-cat that faced opposite her, she found her skin crawling with apprehension. Her mind was screaming at her not to trust the grey she-cat, which was admittedly preposterous; she was the vrachi, and not only that but one of the cats closest to her in the Monarchy. As tsar she was expected to maintain peace and balance between the families, Sterling house especially. But Lakeveil... Loki held no ties to her other than the association the she-cat had with her mother. It was the only thing keeping her from ridding herself of the very real threat she believed she faced; to discredit and dishonor Lakeveil's name and reputation would be to dishonor her mother's memory. Though her relationship with Tasman wasn't the best – and some would argue nonexistent – she felt she owed the late E'clair that much.
The vrachi's familiar use of her name, however, still kept her on edge with her teeth grinding. Calm... she thought to herself. Slow your heart. "I require aid for my sleep." She glanced away, hoping no further questions would be asked.
Post by Honeystorm on May 18, 2019 22:01:04 GMT -5
Lakeveil's gaze was gentle and lulling as she turned to face the Tsar, that serene smile on her lips dangerous as it was innocent, and she gave the slightest of nods, already stepping to the far side of the den, over the ground stained with her own mother's bloody pawprints, to the other herbs. No one really knew how Springlockedgrave got so injured so often, but the former Vrachii had always seemed to be sporting new injuries without explanation, the Vrachii's herb den turning from comfortable sanctuary into a horror nightmare, though the purpose hadn't changed at all.
She considered a moment, pulling foxglove instead of poppy seeds, watching as the Tsar's lives faded from her eyes, the world descending back into the chaos that the deity she was dedicated to was known for. But for now, she was comfortable in her rank, in Blazehowl's relationship with Loki's aunt Dinara, enough to pull the right plants. Lavender, chamomile, two poppy seeds. To calm and make her sleepy. "Would you like to talk about it?" Lakeveil questioned simply, pushing the herbs over to her. She was bound to confidentiality if Loki wished it, and to break it would not only break the trust of the clan in her, but it put her own rank in jeopardy. Suffice to say, the she-cat likely wouldn't be spilling anything to those who had no business knowing what went on in the Tsar's mind.
Loki’s emerald eyes subtly narrowed, though she found relief flooding her as the vrachi – who at one point seemed to pause in consideration in front of the herb store – pulled what was necessary, whatever that may be, and brought it to her. Distrust still lingered in her stomach like tentacles of shadow, licking at her insides, but she stifled them with a deep inhalation. She needed to maintain her composure, especially around the healer. Her inquiry brought her up short, though, as she was leaning down to devour the concoction. She blinked before her walls came crashing down around her, blocking her into a solid cage that shut out the light within. On the outside, her expression seemed to shift from open and relieved to dark and shielded.
“No.” It was the only answer she could come up with and it was curt. Part of her wanted to feel apologetic for it, but there was no need to be; her private affairs were of no concern to the other she-cat. At the end of the day, this was war. Always. It would never end. She inhaled one last calming breath before licking up the custom kit and sat back. “Thank you.”
Post by Honeystorm on May 31, 2019 21:17:48 GMT -5
"Alright." Lakeveil offered simply, giving the she-cat a slight nod of understanding. She couldn't, and wouldn't, force the Tsar to talk to her. "I am always here however, should you need to. Kaliko as well." She added. Her specialty wasn't one that dealt with others, but even so, she could sit and listen, let Loki get whatever she wanted off her chest without worry of rumors being spread about. Even if she didn't take it, hopefully the offer was enough to settle her mind somewhat, knowing that she didn't have to bear everything alone. She might even be more inclined to speak with the Acecoop, knowing that Kaliko wasn't a part of the Sterling house, and was far closer to the young Tsar's age.
The tsar bit her lip, her back still turned to the other she-cat, before she sighed and turned back around, walking deeper into the den. She wasn't sure if she'd regret this, but she couldn't keep it contained any longer. With green fire in her eyes, the once cold surface of those orbs molten and swimming with unbridled emotion, she spoke: "Did you know my mother?" She shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm sure you did. But did you know her? Personally?"
