Chapter Text
‘tis a rare thing, that Leophyne lets control slip willingly from her fingers. So many times as her faith has been broken there is scarcely any trust left to give another person— and why should there be?
The Temple Knights swear an oath, to defend one another as they do the populace, yet there were none at her back when she argued her case… her former companions, outcasts every last one, so quick to turn their gazes to the walls, the floor, anywhere that they could not see the embers of vengeance smolder and flicker into a wildfire in her eyes. Her own father, thrice-damned and then some be his name, so quick to denounce his eldest and only daughter after the eldest son is declared missing that one might believe Charlemend eager to walk House Durendaire to an early grave when his time comes to an end.
Even the Unbound… with such potential beneath the words Apyaahi had put forth at the table at Xbalyav T’ve, fell woefully, pitifully short. Relics acquired by every last one of her so-called compatriots, and yet when she deigned to return to the city across the salt one year’s time from their declaration, she found none there to greet her.
It is so wearying a task to place a fraction of trust in another person, nevermind the entirety of one’s faith. And these days, Leophyne finds herself so very, very weary. Dark bags hang heavy beneath her crimson gaze, one night after the next spent in forced wakefulness for fear that something might come to pass while she is unconscious from the world. There is no longer a barrack she can rest easily in, no home to call her own any more that she could slumber beneath thick quilts and furs, and certainly no kindred spirits gathered around a campfire that would watch her back when she draws the long stick for the night.
There is no person that she can place her trust in anymore … but that does not mean she is well and truly alone in this miserable life hers.
No, as she ascends the ice-claimed stones of the Dusk Vigil’s outer walls and raises her gaze upwards she can see a shadow already. Hands come up to guard her eyes from the howling winds that already coat her eyelids in frost, and that shadow multiplies. another formless shape flocking into the first’s space. Leophyne finds shelter from the wind as she rounds a corner into one of the few halls this damned fort has that’s not in some form of disrepair, and she can just barely hear a raucous screech on the wind.
All is quiet, quiet as it can be with mother nature’s frigid breath pounding upon the stones, until the moment her bootfalls begin to echo in the hallway leading to Saint Guenriol’s Chapel. ‘tis like an alarum is sounded, and the chapel erupts with terribly shrill cries, drawing a wince from even her as they reverberate upon the worn down walls. Still, she is undeterred as she strides forth into the chapel proper, daring to step over the rubble and bones that litter this once holy ground even as she feels several pairs of eyes upon her.
There is a thunderous sound of impact behind her, a rush of alpine wind wrought with viridescent aether that bites unkindly into her armor and no doubt slices where it connects with her chilled skin beneath, yet she does not turn her gaze to find the source. Or, perhaps, it should be said that it would be to confirm the source.
Here in the center of the chapel, where the wall has been broken through and allows what little skylight there is to filter in and land upon her, Leophyne knows there is no safer place for her to be. She gazes upon the destroyed idol of the Fury and finds the strength to smile, to bare her teeth and grin despite the weariness.
The scrape of claws upon the stone alerts her to her companion’s approach, and at last, she turns to face it. Sharp, predatory gold eyes meet her own, and where another might falter Leophyne steps forward, raising her arms towards the beast as she moves in a slow and deliberate motion. The griffin’s head raises, turns suddenly as it regards her, and when she is close enough that it’s powerful claws could easily tear her armor asunder and spill her organs from her belly beneath them, its head lowers. Ever slowly, ever slowly, eyes wary upon her until the angle does not allow for it, and only then do Leophyne’s hands make contact, fingers uncharacteristically gentle for the clawed gauntlets that guard them.
She moves with a gentleness that any other person could only dare dream of receiving, fingers moving along the powerful muscle of the griffin’s neck, preening from it loose feathers and clusters of ice that would hamper it. Here, so close as she is to the creature, the roar of wind cannot mask the trill that sounds in the wake of her actions.
Another impact off to the left, followed by another and another— warbling sounds of curiosity, familiarity, excitement mingle together, and soon enough the wind cannot even reach Leophyne’s form, surrounded by the griffins as she is.
Though the cold chips away at her, the sounds are beginning to draw a pounding into her head, she does not hesitate to turn her affections onto each griffin, whether they be adult, adolescent or hatchling— they are hers, after all. They have remained at her side when no other had, and she comes to them now in the only good faith she has left.
❝ Liesel. ❞ Her voice belies the exhaustion of three days gone sleepless, and she would be lying if the relative safety of the Dusk Vigil was counteracted by the hallucinations she has wrought on herself in doing so.
The first griffin, taller, more muscular and prouder than all the rest turns its head in a sharp motion, intense gaze leveled upon her. She meets the gaze without fail, but her eyelids twitch uncontrollably and it becomes a trying task to keep them open. It’s body stiffens at her sudden movement, but for a small mercy it doesn’t raise its voice nor widen its stance in defensiveness as she walks to its flank.
The harness still rests atop the griffin’s back, leather straps and metallic buckles in place despite the obvious discomfort it must make for the griffin, and Leophyne murmurs out a praise as she digs her foot into the stirrup to hoist herself upon its back.
❝ Liesel, pretty thing. ❞ Her voice is quieter now, needs not be authoritative and loud so close as she is to the griffin. She all but slumps forward against its feathers, hands finding the proper set of buckles strap herself in more firmly to the creature and if she were more than lucid right now, she might curse her fumbling fingers for the time it takes her to settle in. ❝ Do not drop me. ❞
The griffin’s wings move, feathers ruffling in the motion and scattering the crowding griffins from its space. Her Liesel, eldest and most powerful of the late Opinicus’ offspring, takes to the edge of the chapel in a powerful gait. Already its wings beat down and scatter stone and ice in its wake, and when it leaps from the keep and begins its freefall descent Leophyne finally lets her eyes close. Exhaustion hangs heavy over her shoulders and its insidious claws needled their way into her, drawing black spots at the edge of her sight.
Every person she has met has fallen short. Every last one of them have proven unworthy of her trust— not her brothers-in-arms, not her family, and not her fellow Unbound.
None of them could she trust to steer her true when she is at her most vulnerable, and so they are deserving only of her blade.
It is with fitting irony, she manages to think distantly, that the only thing she could place her faith in are the outcast beasts of Coerthas.
How terribly, ironically fitting, indeed.