Liliana Vess (
deathsmajesty) wrote in
fandomtownies2024-04-22 04:53 am
Entry tags:
The Infinite Consortium, Monday
Liliana was never particularly thrilled to be in the Infinite Consortium, but considering there were no children present, she could say with all honesty that it could be worse. Today's delivery was a mishmash of things: a horn of plenty, an oblivion stone - that was immediately going back into her locked safes, thank you - a snake basket...
And a book.
Books weren't anything new, there was a small bookcase of them over to one side, most of them in languages that she didn't know, which meant they were likely only of interest to Jon. But this one was in Kalonian, a language spoke on Shandalar - a plane she knew very well.
*...hallowed earth...the void's first breath...*
"Shut up," she murmured absently, paging through the book, skimming to see if anything useful jumped out at her. It seemed to be some kind of epic poem from several hundred years ago, telling the story of a warleader named Ob Nixilis who had 'arrived in swirling flame' - which probably meant a Planeswalker - and was searching for an artifact of great power, according to the narrator, a simple young man hired to be his guide into a sacred tomb.
A sacred tomb. Home to an artifact of great power. On Shandalar.
Suddenly the Onakke voice rose up in a loud chorus, feeling almost like a tidal wave against the inside of her skull. *...WHERE THE SEED TOOK ROOT...JUST A CHILD...UNIMAGINABLE...* It was loud enough to drive her to her knees, where she clutched her temples, eyes closed.
"Stop it!" she snapped. "Shut up!"
*VESSEL...OF...DESTRUCTION!*
The words reverberated through her head like a bell, over and over and over again. She wasn't sure how long she knelt there, wasn't even sure when the voices had faded back into their usual whispers until she felt an odd plink plink plink on the skin of her hand. Was there a leak in the ceiling...? She pried open one purple eye and saw red - literally. It was not water dripping on her hand, but blood. Her nose was bleeding and she had the most splitting headache.
"This is truly getting untenable," she muttered to herself, trying to sound composed and in control. She stood again, grasping the side of the counter when the world went a little wobbly, then slowly made her way into the single stall bathroom to pinch her nose and wash her face and hands. In the mirror, her eyes were also a little bloodshot, though no burst ves--no burst capillaries there to worry about.
"I don't know what in the Nine Hells that was all about," she muttered to her reflection, "but I do know I'm not going to let it stop me."
Ten minutes later, she was back behind the counter reading the story of Ob Nixilis, every so often whispering, "Shut up," at the voices once more whispering in her head.
And a book.
Books weren't anything new, there was a small bookcase of them over to one side, most of them in languages that she didn't know, which meant they were likely only of interest to Jon. But this one was in Kalonian, a language spoke on Shandalar - a plane she knew very well.
*...hallowed earth...the void's first breath...*
"Shut up," she murmured absently, paging through the book, skimming to see if anything useful jumped out at her. It seemed to be some kind of epic poem from several hundred years ago, telling the story of a warleader named Ob Nixilis who had 'arrived in swirling flame' - which probably meant a Planeswalker - and was searching for an artifact of great power, according to the narrator, a simple young man hired to be his guide into a sacred tomb.
A sacred tomb. Home to an artifact of great power. On Shandalar.
Suddenly the Onakke voice rose up in a loud chorus, feeling almost like a tidal wave against the inside of her skull. *...WHERE THE SEED TOOK ROOT...JUST A CHILD...UNIMAGINABLE...* It was loud enough to drive her to her knees, where she clutched her temples, eyes closed.
"Stop it!" she snapped. "Shut up!"
*VESSEL...OF...DESTRUCTION!*
The words reverberated through her head like a bell, over and over and over again. She wasn't sure how long she knelt there, wasn't even sure when the voices had faded back into their usual whispers until she felt an odd plink plink plink on the skin of her hand. Was there a leak in the ceiling...? She pried open one purple eye and saw red - literally. It was not water dripping on her hand, but blood. Her nose was bleeding and she had the most splitting headache.
"This is truly getting untenable," she muttered to herself, trying to sound composed and in control. She stood again, grasping the side of the counter when the world went a little wobbly, then slowly made her way into the single stall bathroom to pinch her nose and wash her face and hands. In the mirror, her eyes were also a little bloodshot, though no burst ves--no burst capillaries there to worry about.
"I don't know what in the Nine Hells that was all about," she muttered to her reflection, "but I do know I'm not going to let it stop me."
Ten minutes later, she was back behind the counter reading the story of Ob Nixilis, every so often whispering, "Shut up," at the voices once more whispering in her head.

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And then a moment, sensing something a little...off, in the feel of the place, though he supposed that could have just been his imagination, but it was enough to make him frown slightly before sending out his usual call of her name to help him find her, though he instinctually just started moving toward the counter.
"Liliana?"
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She stood up behind the counter without a stumble, even though her head was still throbbing, and even with the nonsense that had been today thus far, managed a genuine smile.
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"I'm not intruding on anything too engaging, am I?"
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He supposed it could potentially not even be something that bad, just something terribly interesting to get lost in, and so now that resolve was nudged slightly aside to just put all of his hope into it being that, instead.
"And you are, of course," he said, "deserving of only my utmost, undivided attention, nor would I want to give you anything but that. So," a hand, gently, through hee hair to push it back from her shoulders before leaning in for a light kiss, "for the sake of avoiding distractions, let's hear it. What have you been discovering in this book, my dear?"
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There might be a few parallels there that Ignis might notice. Save for Liliana's name was hardly as stupid as Ob.
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But, yes, that description certain did make it sound far less likely that Liliana's concerns in telling him about it had that much to do with distraction in a purely scholarly level.
"Go on..." he prompt
oed, diligently fighting against the urge to start leaping to any conclusions, channeling some of that energy into gently strokes of his fingers against her back.no subject
"I'm still reading through it," she said, eliding right over any Chain Veil screaming or bloody noses. He was clearly asking about the book, right? No reason to deviate from that! "Trying to make sure I have the appropriate background instead of skipping right to the end. Also, it's hundreds of years old, long before I was born, so trying to winnow through what is fact, fiction, poetic license, and historical context that I'm lacking is slow going."
Because, yes she could read through it quickly, or she could read through it like a scholar, which would take a great deal more time, but would be far more thorough. And was there really a guess which one Liliana would choose?
"So far, what I'm getting is a lot of Ob's backstory. Apparently he was a human warlord, born in 'a distant world,' that knew only war. He was trying to conquer his own plane and made a pact with demons, but they read the 'true desire of his heart' and slew every other living being on that plane. That ignited his spark and he 'walked away to start conquering other planes. He came to Shandalar because he'd heard it held a 'great treasure' that would make him a 'god above all gods.' One pre-Mending 'walker looking for a leg up against the others, is my guess, since we generally could only be killed by other Planeswalkers, and he would want to outmatch any Planeswalker he came up against...I wonder by how much that would have increased his power, considering the factor by which it's increasing mine...Is it a static amount or is it based on existing personal power..."
She paused to doodle some numbers before remembering that, right, she was in the midst of explaining something else.
"Oh, yes, right my darling. Anyway, I have gotten to Ob demanding that the village send it's 'finest sons' to bring him to the tomb and to ready their 'most beautiful daughters' for his return." She sighed and rubbed the center of her forehead, glad that Ignis could not see the faint twitching of her eye at the clamor the Chain Veil was making, even if the tension in her back beneath his fingers was a dead giveaway something was amiss. "Three things I've noticed: the first, I positively loathe this 'Ob' and I hope he died miserably, the second, he's the type that enjoys putting the boot to people's necks. There's no reason to demand the village youths accompany him, they will actually slow him down. Which tells you a lot about who he is right there, even if you assume all the conquering and dead world were gross exaggerations. And the third..." She frowned. "Again, I'm not sure if it's the nature of the poetry, but the author - who claims to be one of the youths - keeps bouncing back and forth between present and past tense when referring to Ob. The poem is in present and it makes sense when he's regaling us with stories of all the horror Ob inflicted on the Multiverse before Shandalar, but..."
She picked up the book. "And he that was a man says unto us, 'bring forth your finest sons, that I might have worthy servants to aid me in my quest to find this worthy treasure.' Continues he, 'And ready your most beautiful daughters for when I return. Bedeck them in jewels and fine cloths as unto a bride waiting for their most honored bridegroom.' The conqueror then glares out unto the crowd and warns us of the price of perfidy. 'Do I return and find your huts empty and your people gone, I will slay your sons and let their lifeblood flow unto the sands until there is an ocean at my feet.' And we quake before he who was a man and swear our obedience, though never our loyalty...
"The whole thing is pretty much just like that, which explains the length of the poem." She held the book up to Ignis, so he could feel the heft of the text for himself, and explore the book by touch if he wished. "But also, there's that odd phrasing throughout. The poem be talking about Ob in the present text like everything else, and then the phrase 'he who was a man' or something similar pops up in the past."
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After all, the only thing that Liliana wanted to conquer was merely her own mortality. There was nothing even remotely similar about any of this at all...
So, yes, actually, thank you, Ignis would gladly take that book from your hands, Liliana, to get a better idea of its heft, its material, hints of its physicality and other traits that might be of some idle interest.
(To get it off her hands as much as to get something else for his hands to cling to).
"Then clearly," he mused, as he forced himself to consider this information with a more impartial perspective, "he had, at one point, ascended into something more than man...or, I suppose, more than likely, descended into something less than. I suppose it all depends on what direction one is approaching it from...."
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"Hmmm, yes, that tracks," Liliana said, thoughtfully. "So possibly just the way they reference him being a Planeswalker, or something happened to him. Personally, I'm hoping it's the 'to him' option and that whatever it was, it was horrific."
She leaned back against him, reaching for one of the treats at the same time and cooing over how beautiful it was. "My darling, look at these, they're magnificent. This must have taken hours." With a tug on his shirt, she tried to bring him down for an appreciative kiss. One look at the purple mirrored shine and it was clear that he'd crafted them for her, an ode in snack form.
Her next point would have to wait a moment, she needed to devour one, maybe two (possibly three), before she could keep up the conversation.
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"Quite a bit longer, actually," he said, the smile now taking on a hint of fond pride, "though well worth every second. Thankfully, I knew I didn't have to worry too much about you rooting around in the freezer to discover my work in progress."
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"So, what I'm hearing is that I need to start buying ice cream so I have an excuse to go poking around in the freezer from time to time to see if there are any special treats in the offing," she teased, lips finding the underside of his jaw. "This sounds like a win/win, which is precisely how I like my victories."
Once settled properly, she closed her eyes and let her head fall onto his shoulder, as if his nearness alone could alleviate some of the dull throbbing in her head.
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Some. Not all, the plight of Ob Nixilis still looming like a shadow from a cloud over the sun in his mind, but he turned his head to catch those lips with his own, and kissed her for a good, long while until those clouds began to dissipate a little more.
Even the witticism of their verbal exchanges weren't enough to prevent him from being reluctant to pull away, but he did, one last kiss against her forehead before drawing her to settle against her chest again.
"Then I'll simply have to get another freezer for the training room," he noted, "since you're even less likely to venture there."
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Nope. There she was. "Boss," he grunted in greeting as he headed behind the counter. "Just looking for something."
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"Bloody hell," she muttered as she felt the telltale wetness on her upper lip. "Could you move?"
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That was only half-true, but it would be funny to see if he believed her.
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Wait, maybe that would make the aneurysm believable.
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Caustic blood?
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"I'm certainly not keeping you," Liliana called over her shoulder. "And the last time I was bleeding under Stark's care, he tried to usher me into death, so I assure you, I'm fine."
Lili could cop to that being unnecessarily bitchy and unfair to Stark, but also her head hurt so she wasn't inclined towards fairness.
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It's called the FORCE, Dean.
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She once again stepped into the bathroom to wash her face and came out with yet more tissues around her nose. And congrats again, Dean, now you get to hear Liliana talk with her nose pinched shut.
"It's only a nosebleed," she said. "No reason to bother Lana. I'll be fine. What did you say you were here for?" The And did you find it yet? was implied.
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