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Snippet #2394485

located in Palace of Iracot, a part of Althaea, one of the many universes on RPG.

Palace of Iracot

At the heart of the city is the Iracot Palace, home of the God-Queen Sarene Iracot.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shiabiann Xao-Lai Character Portrait: The God-Queen's Knights Character Portrait: Ariadne and Endaria
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Shien had kept a small, warm place in his body, the moment he'd experienced moments before entering Shiabiann's office; despite the awkward terror he'd felt, it had been admittedly pleasant.

At Shiabiann's words against him, that warmth was replaced by a cold stone. He barely even registered the Succubi next to him. He opened his mouth, briefly, to protest. He could have told her that the Skyborne needed to watch the borders, that they saw no reason to hasten the message when a Runner was available. He was only one of many sent, from the various border forts around Iracot, but he was the only one that he knew of to have arrived as of yet, even so.

But he was smarter than that. Even if he had been completely valid, and could have borne no blame, she would see him killed. Some of the younger, newer Knights had whispered as such when he told Gabriel what news he brought. Even Gabriel had looked upon him with a somewhat pitying expression, he realized.

At that thought, a fire burned in his chest. Gabriel. If he had seen what was going to happen, why did he not come himself? Did he fear the Magistrate would have him killed? If not, then why sacrifice him like this? It was unfair.

Breaking from his thoughts, he bows stiffly to Shiabiann. "As you command, Magistrate," he says. It was the most firm, dutiful tone he had ever used, he found.

If the Succubi allowed him, he would turn and leave, trying not to make eye contact with any of the women. He had to get out of the Palace. He didn't know what he would do; he didn't know what he should do. He felt like a completely different person, walking out of Shiabiann's chambers.

If the women tried to bar his passage with their touching again, he would have none of it. Save, perhaps, from the woman who had given him the feather.