<a href="/universes/the-multiverse/characters/nevae-of-the-north#story" name="story">Nevae of the North's Story

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#2012-11-01 22:05:17, as written by Modesty

It had been some days since she had ventured into the bar, and some hours since she had remained in her stool. Her favoured spiced wine filled her cup, slowly sipping at it. Nevae was lost in her own thoughts, actively ignoring her surroundings. She continued her ignorance, even when the booking voice of the Captain interrupted her thinking. It came again, loud and speaking foreign words in a known language. Fueled by annoyance and lubricated by cheap wine, Nevae slid off her stool and made way to the newcomer.

“We’re all a little lost, but the sustenance is above par. I suggest you take a seat and quiet down before you tick off some of the locals.” Despite to-the-point words, she had a friendly smile fixated on her pretty lips. She tucked a stray strand of platinum hair behind her ear and motioned to an empty table; it was an invitation.

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#2012-11-01 22:27:00, as written by Modesty

Nevae sighed as the guns broke out, her invitation ignored. The freaks and geeks were going Halloween, and she’d had enough wine. The cleric shouldered past the people near the door and exited the bar.

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#2012-11-09 18:30:37, as written by Modesty

How long had it been since she had it been since she had stepped foot in Gambit's? Days, weeks? Nevae wasn't sure. Her last encounter had left her slightly more hollow, and yet, something a little more. Pretty lips pressed into a hard line as the scent of stale beer and salt assaulted her again, remember not-to-fondly how close she had become acquainted with the floor. Icy eyes scanned the patrons, pausing on Sirad. What were the chances that the woman would be there on her return? Not high, that was for sure. Slender frame wove her way through tables to the familiar face. "Greetings, friend." She didn't use the title lightly, but flashed a smile, glancing to the others around. She was interrupting something.

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#2012-11-09 18:47:57, as written by Modesty

"As long as it's intact on my end too..." She said. Immortalized powers that were never fading. That's what she had promised. Youth, and unlimited access to Auril's divine will. Some told her that Sirad would keep her promise, though. The kiss still burned her lips; the signature in a deal that forever damned her. Business out of the way, the slender femme slid past and to the bar. She needed a drink. Spiced wine, as always, was ordered and delivered. Eyes closed briefly in enjoyment as she swallowed the first sip.

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#2012-11-09 18:57:45, as written by Modesty

....do not bite the apple that assured corruption. The voice in her mind ceased talking as suddenly as it started, echoing. Delicate fingers pressed to her temples. She somehow doubted that her drink was potent enough to make her hallucinate already. Nevae turned in chair, glancing around to find the source of the speaker. Vision skipped over the singing figure, past the sisters and landed on the being speaking of balance. It was just a guess, but he seemed the most likely. Her slender eyebrow rose, listening more intently to what he was saying now.

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#2012-11-09 19:06:09, as written by Modesty

There were fingers crawling up her spine; tendrils of grief and fear that came so suddenly they couldn't have been natural. A thud hit her like a freight train, though nothing came near. The sound pushed her forward momentarily and she growled. Soft words were sung under her breath, a prayer to Auril; the cleric called upon a fear ward, those near her would be immune to fear.

The many with the galaxy for a face spoke to her. Words that meant things, things she'd have to contemplate. The fighting started, a demon sprung out of a simple man and Nevae sighed. She didn't have patience for such things today. The woman abandoned her wine and headed out the door.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Main Street

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#2012-11-09 19:15:28, as written by Modesty

The door swung shut behind her and she sighed. While the Main Street was far from quiet it was monumentally more peaceful than the inside of the bar. Her cheeks blushed, a chill running through her in the cooling autumn air. Soon the winters would come and she wouldn't feel so out of touch in this world away from her own. Ice blue eyes glanced over, locking eyes with a man who was just standing there, staring at her.

"Hey creep, you're on fire." She growled. Nevae was not her normal friendly self that day.

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#2012-11-09 19:28:58, as written by Modesty

Pale eyes narrowed slightly at the term of endearment that Samuel had given her, though she simply shook her head. Rationality seemed to take hold. Nevae realized that she was misdirecting her annoyance. Delicate fingers pulled stray platinum hair out of her face, thick lashes batting at the man in some sort of apology. “Apologies.”

She paused, standing still and out of reach of the foul smelling smoke that the man blew in her direction. “That’s a neat parlor trick.” Smile crept on to pretty features; she had a few of her own.

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#2012-11-09 19:43:01, as written by Modesty

“Oh” She said. He was one of those. Nevae did her best to keep smiling, but fire was hardly her thing. A whole lot of flash and flare, temper and tantrums. She much preferred the cold of winter to the sun of summer.

“Thank you.” Nevae murmured, turning to face the new arrival, taking the broken sentence as a compliment. “What, pray tell, is a wallet?”

Azure eyes dropped down at her person, trying to distinguish which of her articles were named ‘wallet’, for it certainly wasn’t a title that she called anything. As she glanced up a fireball whirled past her, heading for Joe. In the name of Auril, what was going on?

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#2012-11-09 19:54:21, as written by Modesty

Wide-eyed, the slender woman watch the man’s skin burn before his eyes. Blisters rose instantly, testament to just how hot the fire was from the Pyromancer at her back. She frowned at the mugger, who was now unsightly. Another fireball screeched passed her, but this one wouldn’t make it. Her hands rose, a sudden chill dampening the fire; while it didn’t put it out, it froze it momentarily dropping it to the ground. The fireball shattered, then resumed burning on he pavement.

“Temper temper.” She chided, over her shoulder.

“I’d like them too, so I think I’ll keep them. Perhaps someone else will be able to assist you.” She said, politely to the robber. Again, her hands rose, soft words sung under her breath. The man would find his skin healing. Thank Auril.

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#2012-11-09 20:22:48, as written by Modesty

Attention dropped to the outstretched hand before looking back up to the newly healed face. The man was insistent, it seemed, but so was she. Her smile faded a little, eyes flashing in annoyance. One swift shake of her head announced her position on the matter; she wasn’t going to budge.

“Sir, I assure you that in my kindest of moods I would not hand over valuables. I’ve healed your wounds, let that be satisfactory for you in unearned payment and be on your way.” Tone friendly, features not so much. The last few words took on a hard edge.

She squared her shoulders, certain he wasn’t going to back down.

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#2012-11-09 20:34:21, as written by Modesty

“Hold.” She said, in a low almost whisper. The man would feel immobile for a moment; the strength of the person would dictate how long the paralysis would last, not long at all if he were as strong as he looked.

A few more words were sung under her breath. The beginning of an enthrall spell started, the strength of which would grow as time passed on to any susceptible to any such things. Womanly curves would grow more prominent, eyes shine, lips a fraction more pouty.

“There’s always a choice.” Nevae murmured, batting her lashes at him. Meanwhile, her hand was straying to the mace at her hip. “The answer is still no.”

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#2012-11-09 20:59:13, as written by Modesty

“You don’t get your way so you throw a fit?” She said, frowning and shaking her head again. “That’s a little childish, don’t you think?”

If there was one thing in the world that Nevae cared about, it was her wealth. Sure, she could afford to hand over the small purse of coins at her hip and scarcely notice it’s loss, but it was the principle of it. Besides, her life’s ambition was the accumulation of such things. She wasn’t about to let some low-life bully her into parting with it. If there was one thing she didn’t like it was being forced to do something.

Nevae gripped the mace; the weapon seemed ridiculously large compared to her small stature as she readied herself for the first strikes.

The setting changes from main-street to Wing City Gardens (South)

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#2012-11-11 04:10:02, as written by Modesty

Soon the soft sound of footfalls on pavement changed to the crunch of snow, and Nevae became awake. Thick lashes fluttered opened, slowly focusing on the familiar face. She knew the girl before her, one of the few she had become acquainted with in the short time she had been there. She also knew that despite the angelic face it was a powerful demoness that lay beneath the flesh. One who owned Nevae’s soul.

“Good day, Lillith.” She murmured, voice husky from lack of use. The true name of the woman rolled off her tongue easily.

Their last encounter had been brief; so many questions had been left unanswered. At that time, though, Sirad was preoccupied with her newly fallen sister. Now the woman was alone.

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#2012-11-11 04:17:46, as written by Modesty

Her head nodded, once. “As is yours.” She replied, feeling the powerful aura wash over her as the woman took a seat beside her.

The snow had stopped falling, though the flakes that dotted the blonde strands still remained frozen along with the small pile around her feet. The roses, too, were ice.

Bright eyes turned. “Yes, you seem… whole. Not just in power, but in spirit.” Nevae skirted the word heart, no matter how metaphorical the phrase was it just didn’t seem accurate when applied to demonic entities. She didn’t say more, waiting, listening.

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#2012-11-11 04:33:32, as written by Modesty

Nevae nodded, heming and hawing at appropriate intervals. If she disagreed with anything, the cleric didn’t voice her concern. She had long ago learned to pick her battles, and one with a being that held her soul wasn’t a fight she could currently win. The woman imagined that there were cultural differences between the species that surpassed all her few, though set moral guidelines.

It wasn’t so much that her power had increased. Nevae, herself, held no power. As a vessel she simply channeled divine will. It was as if clarity had been gifted upon her, a flood gate opened with unlimited access. Everything was crystal clear.

Still, a platform was opened for questions. The cleric nodded, though took her time in vocalizing them. A series of questions flooded her mind. It took a moment to pick and choose. “Is there anyway I can lose this new… awakening?” Yes, that was a good start.

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#2012-11-11 04:48:15, as written by Modesty

Nevae listened not just to the information being shared but the particular words chosen. ‘Not that I understand’ meant that there were still things left in the unknown in all of this, but the woman figured she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Conversation shifted momentarily to adult matters, and other topics for things between the sheets. It was then that she laughed; rich, musical laughter that was genuine.

All her life she had heard those words, or similar, from all walks of life. Still, for all her humanity she had never found joy in sex, nor sense in love. It was a means to an end, a useful tool and nothing more. She saw nothing else she could gain in such a point in time, nor a need for manipulation. All cards on the table were face up and in her favour. “Thank you. I’ll keep that under consideration.” The words were true, still full of amusement and thanks.

Nevae turned conversation back to business. “What duties will this future… promotion in hell entail?”

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#2012-11-11 05:02:14, as written by Modesty

“And the other zones, what abilities would they imbue me with?” She asked, inquisitively. Being a fourth level cleric she already had a ‘zone of truth’ spell at her disposal, should the need arrive. It was more curiosity that lead her to ask. As Nevae had state when she signed away her soul, it wasn’t power that she needed. The immortality and perpetual youth were satisfactory enough. But if there were other things that would help her reach her goals, well, that was bonus.

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#2012-11-11 05:11:52, as written by Modesty

“I see.” She said, nodding to herself. None appealed to her. Eyes flickered to a nearby rose, reach out to touch it. The pressure caused it to shatter; ice and petals disintegrating. Nevae smiled a haunting smile.

“And is there anyway these gates will close again?”

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#2012-11-11 05:15:57, as written by Modesty

Nevae remained quiet now, mulling over all the new information. The deal sounded too good to be true; something she had learned to be wary of over her short few years. Still, the deed was done and there was no going back. Vision turned from the shattered flower back to the demoness.

“That’s all I have for now. Is there anything else I should know, or that you’d like to ask me?”

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#2012-11-11 05:22:46, as written by Modesty

The cleric rose, offering Sirad a peck on the cheek. “You’ve given me much to think about, friend.” She was chuckling again, a soft sound. “I will be in touch. But for now, I think I need rest.”

The setting changes from wing-city-gardens-south to Main Street 1

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Main Street 1

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#2012-11-16 09:19:12, as written by Modesty

Nevae
❄ ❄ ❄

Autumn. It was everywhere; from the swirling leaves to the chilled wind, she could smell it in the air. There was the unmistakable scent of fauna slowly beginning to decompose, about to be rushed and paused by frigid temperatures. A breeze graced her cheeks, causing a blush to rise from otherwise porcelain skin; a smile spread across pretty lips. While the colours of the falling foliage was pretty to be sure, there was something else that was suddenly causing joy. Autumn meant one thing: winter was coming. Icy blue eyes rose briefly to the sky, watching for just a moment in anticipation. It was as if the skies would crack open any second and sprinkle snow upon her. Her breath held, hoping for things she knew were premature, and then exhaled. Her breath dissipated in the air. It was enough to know that it would be soon that she would feel the cold of winter, and that was enough for now. Nevae, hand of Auril, was practiced in patience.

The slender frame of the young woman paused in the street, one hand pushed deeply into the pockets of a new coat and the other gripping a paper cup marked in a franchise coffee shop logo. These were new things for her: wool coats, leather boots with rubber soles, paper cups, tights, short skirts. These were things not from her world. But then, this wasn’t her world or anything close to it. Nevae, cleric of ice from another realm was adapting. This was a place where technology replaced magic, and guns replaced swords. There was a learning curve, but she was learning to love some of the changes… like coffee.

Thick lashes closed in momentary ecstasy, completely absorbed in the exotic smell. The thick, brown liquid was an everyday staple to the people of this new realm, but to Nevae it was some sort of strange heaven. It was bitter, but tempered down with cream and honey to something comparable to the divine. She swallowed, scarcely noticing her scalded tongue, and sighed in bliss. Momentary bliss. Momentary because her next few strides were intercepted by a hard check to her shoulder that resulted in the splattering of her cup—the contents naught but a wash on the sidewalk.

Something akin to anger or rage flashed in her pale blue eyes as she looked up from spilt coffee to stranger. If one paid attention they would notice a frosting pattern lacing it’s way across the puddled beverage, but Nevae’s attentions were on her assailant. Bowed lips pressed into a hard line, a number of scenarios all ending in violent death flooded her mind. Still, another breath and a serenity befitted countenance that was in stark contrast to the aggression that had just burned from behind her eyes.

“Careful, friend.” She said, cheerfully, turning on heel to face the man directly Despite pleasant demeanor that was outwardly displayed there was a singular thought running through her mind: she would make him pay dearly for her lost drink.

The setting changes from main-street-1 to Main Street

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#2012-11-19 22:58:50, as written by Modesty

A millisecond and the man, whose size compared to hers was comparable to a house, was rushing at her. Nevae scarcely had time to mumble a prayer, silently reaching into the back of her mind and asking for Auril’s strength. The woman knew full well that she didn’t have time to dodge the attack and threw herself into the punch. She tightened her jaw, bracing for the hard strike of the fist. Her jump added half a foot, allowing hand to collide with shoulder, sending her flying. The momentum was to her benefit, left arm swinging around the large mace with added force to collide with, well, anything it so happened to connect with.

Nevae hit the ground, hard. It was only with luck that she hadn’t lost her breath, she thought as she stiffly but quickly rose to her feet again. She could already feel the bruises forming on her arms and back, but that wasn’t the most daunting of effects. Vision skipped downwards where mud splattered across formally pristine boots. She growled, pale eyes fixated on the hulking man.

“Grr, you’re going to pay you lumbering philistine. These boots were brand new!” She yelled.

Nevae slid her shield off her back, which was remarkably unmarred despite the fall, and braced herself for the next attack. Meanwhile, soft words were spoken and a slow, thick mist began to creep in.

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#2012-11-19 23:33:11, as written by Modesty

It was a guttural sound that was to be her response, her eyes narrowing at her opponent. Typical male, she thought, regressing to caveman capacity when faced with a fight or a f---

Her thoughts were interrupted by a flying foot aimed at her face. She took a step back, instinctively turning her head and bringing her shield up. The heel of his foot bounced off her ear; a ringing sound was quickly apparent as pain laced it’s way through her skull. The fact the metal of the shield contacted with bone, probably ankle, was a fair consolation prize.

She shook her head, attempting to shake away some of the ache, platinum locks flipping out of her eyes. The bottom half of a boot print was discernable, should anyone be able to see through the thickening smoke. It was more figures than fine detail that she could make out, the mist working both for her and against her. The air was cold, a smile spreading across her lips despite the pain. The fog allowed her to distance herself a little and catch her breath. Nevae, however, was never one to back down.

“You owe me for the boots.” She called out, crouching in the mist. “And a little extra for bath. Though I’m inclined to say you keep it all and purchase yourself some manners…”

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