She hadn't forgotten. She hadn't forgiven. And today was the day she exacted her revenge.

Arwen stepped into Cepheus wearing a cloak of deer skin, hiding her features from view. With her bone crown atop her head and a mask covering her face, she could safely say that Isra wouldn't recognize her from her previous visit to the palace. It was the perfect opportunity to plague those stupid ivory deer the valkhound apparently loved so much.

First, her sickness would cause skin irritation. Mild, of course. Then they'd itch, spreading the infection from skin lesions onto the trees the deers pruned, spreading it throughout the herds. Then, slowly, their fur would fall out, littering the grounds of Cepheus and turning those wretched deer into hairless, ugly abominations. But by the time such symptoms would be noticed, her scent would be long gone. Even better if it spread to Isra, too.

The perfect crime, so long as she didn't get caught now.

She rounded the palace, keeping an eye out for anyone who would foil her plans, her pointed ears perked upwards, listening for footsteps as her eyes kept a lookout for movement. She had to be careful about this, lest Isra find her and either hurt her worse than before or possibly even kill her as she'd promised. But she would rue the day she crossed the Queen of the Court, Arwen the Beautiful.

Arwen made her way forward as stealthily as possible, her plague bubbling up inside of her, ready to be unleashed. It wasn't long now...

@Aethril

Waiting for Cain to come by. Waiting for summons to Vargas's meeting. Waiting for Dhracia. Waiting for the little scout. All she could do was wait, and if Isra was busy and Eggbert had the door to tend to-- if Obieth was out hunting and Pollen was fulling her own duties, then Aethril didn't even have anyone to sit around and wait with.

She was still partially on rest; she was practicing magic whenever she could, but she also knew she had to let her body recover. She couldn't risk fucking up again. There was too much to do.

So, what was the Hand to do? For now, she was copying a map.

Tedious! Horrendous work. Could this creation even read the words she was writing upon it; the labels she gave each room? How else was she meant to tell apart which room was which, which tunnel connected to where? It'd been insufferable, each question and each attempt at a solution. She couldn't sit in the library in silence all day.

Instead, she'd come to the garden. The gentle ivory deer here patrolled the pathways and delicately leaned into the bushes to eat away at stray leaves. Some rubbed their cheeks against the tree trunks and others sat quite close to Aethril, curled up to themselves with their ears comfortably flicking. She wondered if they, like Eggbert, had been pleased that she'd woken up again.

It was better than no company, at least-- and as her quill carefully traced along each line of the map onto a blank piece of parchment she was, she supposed, at peace.

But her ears picked up something unusual; the swish of fur, the near-silent tap of someone stepping on alabaster floors. Her head lifted-- just barely --above the hedges to glance into the nearby corridor to look at the creature.

She thought it was another deer, at first-- but it's movements were off. Too off. A visitor?

Her eyes narrowed, but visitors were allowed within the palace. If she wanted alone time, she'd have to go back to her own bedroom, behind the barrier-- and Aethril did not want alone time.

She side-eyed a very gentle-faced laying near the bench she sat on and sighed, resuming her work in relative silence.

@Arwen

Drawing fruit she had from within her cloak, nestled within a honeycomb bag she'd made, she tried to approach one of the deer, spitting on the fruit to get all those nice germs and sick bacteria all over it before holding it out.

"Here you go," she cooed softly, hiding herself behind a pillar, "Come and take it, sweet thing."

She spoke as sweetly as she could, disgusting to even her ears. Hopefully these deer couldn't sense her sinister intents and this one was particularly stupid. If she was lucky, she'd feed this deer, maybe a few more, and leave.

The deer snorted, however, stamping a foot and staring at her with wide eyes. It turned and trotted away, leaving her fuming silently. After a moment she breathed in and smoothed out the front of her cloak, taking a few deep breaths.

’It's alright,’ she thought to herself, ’I'm certain at least one of these little beasties has to be curious enough to walk over.’
Arwen contemplated for a moment and got out two more fruits, apple-looking things that were instead an odd shade of blue. She made sure to get her spit all over them too and rolled them forward instead before hiding behind the pillar, watching and waiting for one of the animals to take the bait.

As she peered across the garden, however, she spotted Aethril, her eyes widening beneath her mask, a curse on her lips. She stared for a moment more and swallowed, retreating behind a bush instead, praying she hadn't been seen. She prepared excuses, claims of simply wanting privacy or being shy, concocting a persona in a matter of seconds. Should Aethril approach, she was ready.

Shy, reclusive, simply here to make friends with the kind ivory deer. As long as Isra didn't suddenly appear, she'd be fine.

@Aethril

A strange sound and Aethril was lifting her head from the map again, glancing around to the visitor. The spit went unnoticed for all of twelve seconds before she realised-- in turn with the creature offering the fruit to a deer --and huffed. At least it made things a little more interesting.

The Hand licked her teeth.

Pushing herself up-- the pale deer shifting a little with her movements, disturbed --she urged His magic to her fingertips; unstable, unpredictable, but for now, obidient. The very corruption left her fingertips and reached Arwen; and in Aethril's eyes, she vanished.

In Arwen's eyes, she was sent somewhere dark. It was cramped but somehow an endless expanse all at the same time. A quiet choking sensation filled her lungs despite the clear sound of her lungs expanding and deflating with breaths in the dead, dead silence of the void.

A pause. Aethril click-click-clicked her way towards the space the creature had once occupied and, in a fluid, delicate movement, kicked the poisoned fruit down the corridor. It was out of the way of the deer for now; but she made a quiet note in the back of her mind to properly dispose of the thing later, before an epidemic broke out.

She wiped the sole of her shoe against the ground, and then released Arwen from the void with a simple question; "what do you think you're doing?"

@Arwen

Arwen saw her move, eyes widening as she prepared to take flight and flee back to her tunnel where it was safe. She only managed to inhale before she found herself blinded, choking even as she inhaled deeply, clawing at the space around her as she fought to push away the walls that closed in, though her fingers felt nothing.

Terror filled her chest, forcing tears to well up as she spun around and around, screaming her lungs out into the space. In another instant she was falling, unable to catch herself before she fell to the ground, unprepared for gravity to suddenly take hold again.

She shivered and slowly lifted her head, staring at the forget-me-not blue shoes right in front of her face, her eyes flicking upwards as she sat up slowly, shivering as if cold.

"M-my friends," she stuttered, though such a thing wasn't entirely for show, her fear still apparent as she backed away from Aethril.

"They are my friends," she fibbed, hoping the woman wouldn't catch her bluff, "I-I've been trying to b-befriend them, I swear I wasn't going to hurt them!"

Arwen pushed herself up into a standing position, hunching down to make herself look smaller, though she was still rather massive under her cloak even still. Perhaps if this stranger took pity on her, she could leave and just be on her merry way.

"I-I wasn't trying to hurt anyone," she said, hands raised in a placating gesture.

@Aethril

Arwen's spell might have worked out better if Aethril-- who had done her fair share of spitting diseases on people --had not blatantly seen Arwen in the act, or if Aethril didn't have a mind so paranoid as it was. As it stood, the explanations in her own head were running wild; another rebel, like the cat. An ally of the cat? Here to find out what happened to its comrade?

The most Aethril believed was that Arwen's fear was genuine.

A taste of her own medicine would serve the creature right, Aethril had decided; but not only did His magic not come to her call, but a good amount of saliva-- that was to be spat out --got promptly caught in the back of her throat. A sharp cough and a rumble of her throat clearing later, and the Hand was shaking it off.

"You're a damn fool to sit there and lie to me," came the ugly snarl shortly afterwards, a little hoarse from the... mistake. "Leave them be. Get out."

@Arwen

strong language

Arwen clenched her jaw and backed up a few more paces, eyes narrowing under her mask as the woman told her to just leave.

"They're for good health," she protested, "To discourage harmful diseases! I am simply trying to promise the safety of these animals."

She exhaled and turned, flinging her cloak around with her so it flared out majestically, hiding her figure as it swooped back around her. She went to retreat, shoulders hunched, though she was actually headed towards a different herd. This time she wouldn't make the mistake of trying to get close or to try and lure them in. As long as she got one and managed to get away, this was a success.

Arwen passed one by, her magic lashing out at the deer and instilling a sickness upon it. Alas, it was not her own, but it would have to do. Slowly it would die, spreading this new disease among the herd, her revenge a silent killer.

As of right now, the deer only raised its head, staring at her for a moment before taking flight, the rest of the herd running with it. She clenched her fists as if frustrated, continuing to walk, though she looked back at Aethril.

"You will be lucky if my wrath does not befall upon you next," she mumbled softly, fear turning to anger.

How dare this... bitch try to intimidate her? Why was it that her plans continued to be foiled by these stupid Palace-dwelling, stuck-up assholes?

@Aethril

It should be noted that at the best of times, Aethril tried her absolute damnedest to keep control over herself. It was not an easy feat, even for a Hand-- especially in recent times, her anger spiralled out of control and she found herself trying to destroy everything in her path until she got a grip of herself.

This was one of those times.

So! This creature insults, the Hand, does it? Threatens her! And after she so kindly asked it to leave! After she let it go, unharmed! Her wrath, while Aethril was awake and standing, would not befall anyone-- least of all her!

One ear flicked, animal-like, and this was the only warning Arwen got. The call of the Creator's magic was so much more responsive in times like these; times, when all Aethril could see, was the red of rage. One hand extended and with it came a slough of violet-black flames, roaring and latching hungrily onto the furs and cloth around Arwen's body.

So hot that it was cold. Burning through fuel-- skin, fur, cloth, anything it could latch onto --so fast that black smoke plumed into the corridor and filled it with ashy, corrupted black. The flames were as furious as she was, brutal and destructive in its very nature.

They were the same flames that, as Aethril knew them, had burnt the rebel-cat away to nothing more than a slight shadow on the courtyard ground. Dust.

She licked her teeth, and with satisfaction, she watched.

@Arwen

Either Arwen didn't know how loud she was when mumbling or everyone had super hearing. She ducked, the flames hitting her back dead-on, a shriek leaving her mouth as her beloved cloak set fire. She removed it as fast as possible, flinging it away and revealing herself in her full glory, her chest rising and falling as her wings buzzed in rage.

"That took three days to make," she said, so angry there was almost smoke coming out of her ears, "You... Burned me! Why do you care about these stupid deer? Are you one of Isra's lackeys, come to kick me off the palace grounds?!"

Arwen lifted her hands, her back twitching with every movement, the flames that had gotten through her thick cloak having just singed her hard outer layer. Thankfully such a thing would grow back in her next shed, but it was still immensely irritating.

She rose into the air, wings buzzing as her legs left the ground, her arms lowering before they suddenly shot upwards, her physical movements reflecting her magic as it took hold of Aethril, attempting to just throw her into the air like one would punt a football. If Arwen was lucky, Aethril would crash through the palace roof and hopefully be taken out long enough to throw an apple at a deer and leave. She still had... two. Two apples.

This was going to be difficult to explain to Matthiew...

@Aethril

Arwen has gained 1 point of corruption.

Round: 1/5
Attempt: Attempting to YEET Aethril.
Defense: N/A
Injuries: Singed back

It was either clueless or trying to be intentionally insulting, and Aethril did not know, nor care, which it was. As much as she usually wouldn't take insult to it-- Isra was very nice and very fair, and she'd be delighted working under her --she had to say something.

"Isra," her tone was calm but wrapped in silk and venom. "Works for me." She could call for her, she realised-- and it'd be clever to do so, she'd decided, but unfortunately, the Hand was flying upwards.

She didn't go too far-- or at least, not as far as Arwen would hope. When she hit the ground, however, it was with the sickening crunch of a rib or two breaking and a groan. It fuelled the anger, but it didn't fuel the capacity for magic-- or perhaps she'd accidentally landed on her gemstone, which was a horrifying thought.

Regardless, nothing came to her, and she spent a few precious beats trying to break out of the haze of pain.

@Arwen

Round: 1/5
attempt: yeet back (failure)
defense: none
injuries: broken ribs