11-14-2016, 12:26 AM
When Seirye Was Poisoned - Temple of the Whisper
Seirye casually flipped to a new page as the rim of her wine glass brushed her lips, though she had yet to actually partake of the pale liquid. Whenever the drink came close she always tilted the glass away once more as her attention shifted to another account of Larassan history.
This time was no different. Again, the glass was placed on the small table at her side as she traced a line of text with her finger.
"I thought we were supposed to be relaxing?"
Seirye's concentration was broken as the raven-haired woman across from her spoke. Bethany also had a delicate glass in hand, though her's was more than half empty and another sip was readily sliding down her throat.
"I personally feel this is quite relaxing," the other woman marked her place with a piece of folded parchment and smiled warmly.
Bethany sighed and shook her head. "Yes, but reading was not quite what I had in mind. When was the last time we just had some 'lady' time, dear? We have have an entire study to ourselves!" The Notoriani leaned forward and winked. "Why don't you tell me what you think of that paladin the priesthood recently welcomed, hm?"
"Pray, my dear, I can tell you that you may have partook in too much wine," Seirye waved the question away and gestured to the glass still held in Bethany's hand. "Second or third glass already? I lost count."
“Or is it simply that you have not drank enough?” Bethany mirrored the gesture at the other woman’s own full glass. “Loosen your tongue! Tell me your secrets! I’m sure the Whisper is curious.”
“I am sure the Whisper already knows.”
Seirye moved to open the book once more, but a look from Bethany caught her eye. It was the same game they always played, and it never failed that Bethany ultimately came out on top.
“Oh, very well. I will not even consider attempting to keep up with you, however, so do not ask.”
“Lovely!” Bethany rose to her feet. “Then I supposes I shall indulge you at least a little and fetch another tome. Perhaps we can do some dramatic reading again, hm? Don’t start without me!” She slipped beyond the study door and disappeared down the dark corridor.
Seirye sighed, but she continued to smile fondly as she pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and once more plucked the delicate wine glass from the table. This time she allowed the pale liquid to pass her lips before she once more opened the thick book on her lap.
It was the increasing tightness in her throat that alerted her. The young woman paused and swallowed in an attempt to loosen the stiffening muscles. Even a cough escaped her mouth, but it seemed as if her throat was refusing to release the tautness that began to restrict every breath.
"Bethany?" she managed to choke out, though silence was all that responded until a pained cry escaped her own mouth. She grabbed at her abdomen, but felt nothing aside from the layers of thin cloth that draped around her frame.
It felt as if a fire was consuming her stomach and licking hungrily at her throat. The book on her lap fell to the ground with a heavy thump, but the priestess was only distantly aware of the fact she clawed at her clothing and pale skin. She felt the hard floor against her knees, but she hadn't even realized that she had dropped from the chair and was writhing against the ground.
Seirye tried to cough forcefully, as if doing so would dislodge whatever was inhibiting her breathing, but most of her breath was once more caught within the closing airway of her throat. Her arms shuddered and she fell to an elbow as it rebelled against her willowy frame – no longer able to support it.
The door creaked as it was pushed slightly more ajar. Seirye could make out a pale figure rimmed in a raven-colored cloud, but she could not see its face for its features had blurred into a foggy mass of blackened flesh.
Desperately, she reached for the figure, her fingertips scraping at the ground, but it didn’t move.
“Be…th…any…” she gasped. The door creaked again and she was distantly aware of footsteps hurrying down the corridor, away from the open door.
Shadows clawed at the light cast by the candles scattered about the room, and enveloped them fully as her field of vision went black.
She slumped against the hard, cold ground.