Crimes of Venetia Childs

[Dreyfus]

Company: Venetia| Thoughts: You wont get away!| Mood: Determined

---

♅ His eyes narrowed as she shrugged his shots off, a playful smirk on her face which only upset the reconciliator more. To add to his frustrations, innocent soldiers outside of the flaming barrier were being attacked as well. Dreyfus was truly in awe of the sheer might of his supposed aunt, and she had no qualms in flexing her brutality and power for him.

He knew in his current state he would be no match for her, but he had to do something. As the lash of fire came towards him he knew at that moment that he was fast enough to build a shield to protect himself or contain her, so he had to fall back into his kinetic rune. He had used it to deflect elemental attacks before so now would be no different.

He intercepted the flames by forming a kinetic push around his hands, holding it up in front of him as the flames impacted against his hands. The flames licked at his attire, the heat kissing at his skin as he held his ground. Her words came slithering into his ears again. She kept going on about fire being lit, about the way open to him, but what did she mean by it.

A part of him felt weak against her elemental onslaught as his knee buckled under the weight, and all he wished to do was show her just how wrong she was. She wouldn't hold that smug look on her face, he'd make sure of that. He wanted to blow her away with all his own power. His kinetic rune glowed brightly reacting to the aether being poured into.

"I can't allow you to win, I refuse!" he hissed, feeling himself strain as he focused on space in front of him. The air in front of him began to harden with flux, the area in front of his body. He found himself straining to maintain it, but he could feel himself tapping into the unknown power within himself, but whatever this ability was, he would use it to close the distance to her.

Taking steps, he began to advance toward her, his eyes burning with conviction. "You say the fire is lit, the way is open, but where does this lead? If you continue to light so many fires are you not afraid of being caught up in the blaze?" he warned, inching towards her one step at a time. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

The flames that Venetia propelled toward Dreyfus continued to pour forth from her hands only to be deflected by the hardening barrier of kinetic force he was creating. The scarlet eyed witch did not seem perturbed by Dreyfus defiance as a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She narrowed her eyes, sending a cascade of flames barreling forward to smash into the wall of force Dreyfus was conjuring. It bounced off of the forcefield only to strike the dome of magic she had encased them in. The flames rose higher and higher until the entirety of the inside of the their space was obscured by a roaring wall of fire. The heat quickly became overbearing but the woman did not seem bothered.

As soon as the inside of the dome became completely obscured from the outside, Venetia ceased funneling her magic toward the young Reconciliator. Curiously the fire coating the inside of her barrier began circling them, becoming a veritable cyclone of heat. Raising a hand, Venetia made a flicking motion with her fingers. Dreyfus whole body would suddenly go tense, his physical senses sent into disarray for a moment. The result would be enough to completely derail his concentration seeing the area compressed by his kinetic force explode outward in a wave toward Venetia. She was pushed back momentarily, a look of quiet surprise on her face as she was hit by the force before collecting herself.

In the light of those circling flames, she walked forward. With each step, the force controlling Dreyfus muscles tightened, bearing down on his ability to move until she was standing in front of him. Reaching out she cupped his face gently. Venetia’s expression was unreadable for a moment as she stared down at him.

“You remind me of your mother.” A look of deep sadness crossed her face. She brushed her thumbs over Dreyfus cheeks.

Venetia blinked and with a jarring abruptness, the flames circling the interior of the barrier froze. The sweltering heat that they generated evaporated and an eerie stillness settled upon them. The force bearing down on Dreyfus muscles was lifted. Carefully, Venetia helped to steady Dreyfus.

“Easy, nephew. Easy. You’ve put on enough of a show, I think that should spare you from suspicion. For now.” Gently, the woman dusted off the front of Dreyfus coat. She cupped his face and stared at the blood running from his eyes.

“Would you like me to take care of this for you?” She brushed a thumb over one of those streaks of blood.

[Dreyfus]

Company: Venetia| Thoughts: You wont get away!| Mood: Determined

---

♅ This losing conflict he had gotten himself in was heating up, in more ways than one. The ring of flames they found themselves locked within seemed to grow as Dreyfus deflected the flames she was firing at him. He could feel the strain from tapping into something new within his rune, but he couldn't give up so easily, not in front of her at least.

The heat from the encompassing dome began to fall on him with a pressure he could only attribute to being like having been hit with kinetic force himself. When the other reconciliators were obscured from their view of the conflict, his eyes widened in disbelief as the flames began to funnel around them, encircling them like a cyclone.

In that moment, he felt his whole body tense up, his concentration on the compressed space before him disappearing and the resulting blowback forcing the advancing witch back a bit. He would always remember the look of surprise on her face from that. She wasn't expecting it to knock her back, which made him realize she could be defeated, just not as he was now.

As she approached the pressure around him continued to squeeze on his frame, causing him to fall onto his knees. His mind went berserk, trying to cope with the fact as much as he was telling his body to move, as much of a natural instinct it was to avoid being this close, he couldn't. He watched as the woman loomed over him a bit, taking his face within her hands.

For that brief moment, it felt like an eternity. For the first time, he could see the sadness in the eyes of a woman who could reduce the city itself to ash if she so pleased. To see her in such a vulnerable moment, even for a moment, was an empowering feeling for him. She almost looked human. Her words caused a tear or two to form beneath the bloody stream already coming from his eyes. He heard that so many times from his family, but to hear it from someone like her hit him in a different way, one he couldn't quite explain, even to himself.

The feeling in his limbs finally returned to him, and for a moment he contemplated wrestling her to the ground, but after everything he had been through tonight, his body disagreed. Standing to his feet she wiped the blood from his eyes, offering to take care of the blood. He was confused, and then realized what she was offering. "This curse was meant to kill me, it's what killed my mother. I don't think even in the breath of your power you can remove something so ingrained into my soul."

He didn't believe that, not after witnessing her power for himself, but it was something he had come accustomed to. "In truth, it's the one thing that I feel still connects me to her. As much of a hindrance it is to my health, I would be sad to see it go. Besides, just how would you even go about removing such a curse?" he scoffed, as there was a curious glint in his eyes as he looked to her. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“It is not a curse, nephew, and it was not meant to kill your mother. It was meant to save her. I should know.” A cold rage suddenly crossed her features. “I was the one who delivered you when it failed.”

Venetia dropped her hands from Dreyfus face. She clasped them before her, eyeing him from head to toe. A dark storm of emotions clouded Venetia’s features. It was clear that she was reliving a memory but it cleared after a moment.

“Your mother was brave, Dreyfus. Maria fought to the bitter end. By the time I arrived, it was too late. She begged me to save you.” The woman suddenly blinked back a tear. “I thought I could save her too. I was wrong.”

Venetia reached out, touching a hand to Dreyfus chest. Her jaw tensed with strained emotion. The scarlet of her eyes glowed brightly and in response, the birthmark upon Dreyfus chest glowed bright enough to shine through his shirt. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent as the mark revealed itself.

“This is a gift, Dreyfus. One that is incomplete. It cannot be taken from you. Only a god could do that and I am no goddess. But what I can do, what I can offer you, is the chance to complete it. I can give to you what should have been yours from birth. I can turn what you have felt to be a curse, into the blessing it always should have been.” Venetia looked up to meet her nephew’s gaze.

“I will offer you this only once. Accept it or do not. The choice is yours.”

[Dreyfus]

Company: Venetia| Thoughts: You wont get away!| Mood: Determined

---

♅ His eyes betrayed his otherwise stoic and skeptical appearance, the hesitation, the sheer shock of her words rattling him. The truth behind his birth was revealed, and as much as he wanted to call her a liar, that she couldn't have done what she had said, he couldn't deny the fact that some part of him believed her.

The story behind his birth and his mother's death was that she was attacked by rogue mages, and one cursed her and him, leaving them for dead. His father came with other reconciliators and rescued them both, only for his mother to pass away after his father saved him. Now to find out it was all a lie. Dreyfus felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He couldn't believe that the one man who spent his life protecting him would hide and lie about his birth, and to have to find the truth from the most wanted mage in the city, who turns out to be his mother's sister? It was more than Dreyfus could handle mentally. It posed so many questions in his mind now. For now however, he would focus on what was right in front of him.

His brow quirked up as she explained the true nature of his affliction. It was some incomplete gift, one that was supposed to save both himself and his mother. She was admitting her own failure in trying to save her sister, and seeing her in such a way made Dreyfus sympathize with her. His hand rose to rest on top of hers, as the light from his birthmark shown brightly through his own clothes.

Any doubt he held in what she was saying was quickly dispelled as his eyes widened in disbelief. The mark clearly reacted with her touch, and that was all the proof he needed to be swayed, if only for a moment. She was offering a chance to complete this gift of hers, and the curiosity was too much for him to ignore. "I accept." the moment those words left his lips he knew he would come to regret it later, but for now, he wanted this, he wanted something good for once to come his way. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

Two words. Venetia closed her eyes. A peace settled upon the woman and a form of relief was plainly evident upon her face as she opened them once more. She looked upon Dreyfus fondly. Bringing up her wrist, she flashed two sharp canine teeth that sliced into the flesh. Extending her wrist she brought it to him.

“We haven’t much time. Drink. Be reborn.” She glanced at the frozen barrier. A crack was beginning to form. The Reconciliators were beginning to erode the power of her shield. Gently she reached out and tugged Dreyfus down into a kneel, guiding him to her open wrist.

“Pain and death await you, Dreyfus. But you have the strength to overcome it. I will be with you. Through all of it. And when you draw your first breath, I will be there when you awaken.” She ran a hand through Dreyfus hair, an almost motherly, soothing gesture.

“Drink. We must begin and then we must leave.”

[Dreyfus]

Company: Venetia| Thoughts: You wont get away!| Mood: Determined

---

♅ He watched her intently as she spoke so little of what was happening, and his eyes fell to the wrist that was extended to him. She wanted him to drink her blood? How was this supposed to make his so-called gift complete? The cracks that were echoing from the efforts of the reconciliators outside meant he didn't really have time to contemplate.

Being brought to his knee, he listened to her explain once final time. His heart skipped a beat at the mention of death coming, that she believed in his strength to survive what was coming should he drink, and that time was of the essence. Taking her wrist, he gave her one last look, before his eyes fell to the crimson liquid before him

With a deep breath, he drank from her, the taste of iron that blood held filling his mouth as he swallowed the life-giving liquid. Immediately he felt a shockwave course through his body as it felt as if he had been fatally wounded, that burn and pain of being stabbed but a feeling that coursed through his body. Looking up to her his body collapsed onto the ground as he felt weak, his body shutting down.

He began to reach for her, but remembered the confidence she held in his ability to overcome this. He resolved himself and prepared for death. He had to overcome this, as he had too much to achieve before he could truly die. He found the process agonizing, a normal man losing himself to the impending despair, but he couldn't allow it show, despite his body betraying his resolve.

Then, everything went black. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

As Dreyfus faded into blackness, the gentle touch of Venetia’s hand petting through his hair followed him into the dark. She began to hum softly, her scarlet eyes alight with crimson glows.

“Remember, Dreyfus, no matter what…do not let go.” The echo of her voice was all that was left.

Darkness.

Pain.

Blistering agony as Dreyfus felt the life being leeched from his body. In nightmarish snatches, he would return to consciousness to see the very flesh rotting from his body. Skin sloughing off to expose necrotic muscle and sinew beneath. His limbs gradually becoming useless lumps of desiccated flesh that congealed and fell away from his form. Eventually the rot spread to his chest. His lungs began to seize as the life was sucked from them. Dreyfus would be able to see himself almost perfectly, the blood red mark upon his chest glowing with a dark scarlet light as it seemed to draw his lifeforce into it. The whole of his body was simply melting away as he became a putrid mass of writhing flesh and bursting organs. Eventually his eyes popped, sending fetid jelly down his sinking face.

All the while, the red glow remained fixed in his mind as it clawed its way into his brain. Deeper. Deeper. The red light grew brighter and brighter until it was all he could visualize.

Dreyfus stood at the precipice. The power sang to him, telling him to give up. Let go. End the pain.

[Dreyfus]

Company: Venetia| Thoughts: You wont get away!| Mood: Determined

---

♅ There was nothing but echoing whispers that filled his consciousness as the gift was devouring his body. He felt pain unlike anything he had ever come to know before as the power filled his being. He could see it through however, the glow of the source of his anguish, the vibrant hue of red that filled what remained of his consciousness.

It was tempting, to head its alluring call, to all it to take the last of himself, to finally be free of the oppression Zaichaer subjected him to. But he couldn't allow it to take him, he had to hang on to claim this new power being offered. Reaching out he took hold of the glowing red orb. The moment he laid his hands on it, he could feel the draw of it trying to claim what little bit of himself he had control over.

He refused to allow it to devour him, however, putting all of his will and strength into making the source a part of him, dominating it himself. it was hard to fight against such a voracious force, especially when all you could feel in the present moment was pain. That's all he could recognize in his current state was the sensation of pain and hunger now that his hands were on the red orb.

He would endure it, however, fighting that hunger and in turn turning it against the orb, until he could feel himself siphoning from the power. It was the only thing he could draw from, to pull himself back together. "Restore yourself dammit and return, I still have much to accomplish." the words echoing through the sea of consciousness that was Dreyfus.

He would begin to draw himself back, pulling his body together piece by piece. ♅

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

How long it took was unclear? But when Dreyfus took hold of the power and refused to be subjugated by it, it eventually bent to his will. The red orb that was fat with the very essence of his life became a beacon for him to follow. Slowly but steadily, Dreyfus rebuilt himself. From the congealed mass of putrid flesh that had coalesced onto the floor, he burst forth. Air raced into his regrowing lungs, burning in its intensity but blessed in its presence. For with that breath came life. Before his eyes, fibers of muscle and vascularity rebuilt itself across his skeletal frame. The gritty sounds of flesh and sinew stitching itself back together welcomed his returning hearing. Until finally, with a sickening nausea, Dreyfus innards righted themselves and induced a violet series of urges to vomit.

From Dreyfus throat poured forth the rotting remains of his former insides as he puked them up, spilling bile and necrotic tissue across the stone floor. Over and over he heaved until it felt like nothing was left within him, his form shaking and collapsing into the steaming muck. As his hazy vision swam, there in the dark, illuminated only by candlelight, a door opened and footsteps greeted his blurring vision. Someone knelt down and he felt a gentle hand run fingers through his sweat matted hair.

Words were murmured softly but whatever was said was lost in the muffled haze of fading consciousness.

Dreyfus had done it.

He had survived.

---

There were no dreams. Only darkness. When finally consciousness returned, Dreyfus would open his eyes to find himself resting in a soft bed. It was not luxurious but it was comfortable. The mattress was warm. The blankets were comforting. The pillows were fluffed. The room he was in was plainly decorated with only a few pieces of furniture to fill the otherwise sparsely ornamented walls. A single pyrolyth dragonshard was suspended lightly above a shard-lamp, providing a soft glow and warmth for the area.

Movement would draw Dreyfus eyes as a figure was seated in the corner by the only window. A woman, dressed in black with a dark black cloak draped over her frame. Though the upper portion of her body was obscured by shadows, the scarlet burning in her eyes was clearly visible. She raised a glass of ruby liquid to her lips.

“Welcome back, nephew.”