Monday, January 31, 2011

"That is Lady Star's choice, little cousin. The Hounds would cheerfully rend these two." He folds his hands on the table, giving Star his attention. "Firstly, do you truly want to hear the choices?"

Star nods, her eyes slowly leaking black through the central color changes. Keon nods slowly, then continues. "There are several choices, all to be decided by yourself and Erik. We do not yet have the Sidhe in custody, but that is mere toying. They cannot pass through the Veils. Those paths are closed to them. I can have them brought to you, or disposed of, at any time."

He drums his fingertips lightly and the small demifae flits to the bonsai. She settles back on the bench, swinging a dainty foot. Keon is well aware of Erik's sudden tension. He settles himself, relaxing back against his own seat.

"We could give them to the Hell Hounds. Trooper heads the pack that is, pardon the pun, hounding them. He would be happy to rend them. He did not like the scents and energy they left behind.

I can give them to the Dark Lords. My Court would try them for their crimes, then give them the deaths they deserve. We do release the truly innocent, but these men... they have talked about what they did. They bragged to their friends in the wrong places. Their whereabouts and spoutings were leaked to us by those creatures we trust. One thing to remember in the Faery realm... The trees truly do have ears."

Keon watched her eyes shift to icy white, as if all color had drained from them, right before she dropped her face in her hands. "H-hh-how many kn-nn-now..."

"Rest assured, Lady Star, those cronies have had their own... accidents. Save the two who brought word to our ears. The Forests do not take kindly to an Earth Fae being harmed. Many of our nature fae took homes in the Human realm. The Forest will have new wind chimes soon enough."

She nods, leaning into Erik's strong embrace. When she glances at Keon, he continues more softly.

"There are always the Goblins. Many there that would appreciate a meal of Sidhe flesh. Of course they play with their food before they make a feast. And, if they were told what crimes were committed... well, let's just say they would reap what they had sown."

Erik's eyes are hard. Keon can almost see the need to hurt these men in his warrior's demeanor.

"If it is a more personal vengeance you wish... One on one battle. Much as I would love to weight the battle in human favor, I can not give two different metalled blades. It would have to be a fair match of arms."

The demifae who took his message to Gareth alights on Keon's shoulder. It whispers something in his ear. Keon nods, smiling as the little creature laughs like a tinkling of windchimes.

"I did not think of that, my little friend. How very... fae.. of you."

Keon leans closer to Erik, smiling, as the demifae struts across the table to where Star's little female stands. It bows to the fae, then zips away.

"The battleswords need to be of like materials... A Sidhe has inherent magic. A human does not. We could even the odds if the blades were both Cold Iron. There is a dueling set in the Dark Lords' armoury. Silver hilted, but Iron bladed. The Iron would inhibit the bearers ability to wield magic. The blade would also be a weight not unlike to the blades you wear now. A silver blade would be a bit lighter. You, my human friend, would die as easily from either blade. They would not take mortal wound as easily from Silver. I fear their ability to wield such a blade would not be fair, even if their magic is inhibited by collars."

Keon sits back, laughing.

"A demifae... I had to be reminded of them by... no matter, I had truly forgotten those blades. There is a matched pair of Silver blades in the cache' as well. The fae's reminder brings something else to mind.

My Lady, if it is vengeance by your own hand you wish, and I have seen Sidhe more frail seeming than yourself exact revenge, I am sure I could find something as deadly as a Widow's Sting. The blade is almost frail, but it needs only pierce their skin for the poison to do its work. The tip is covered in a retractable sheathe, which moves back when pushed against the flesh. The needle like point slides in effortlessly. With this weapon, a Goblin met its death at the hand of a Pisky for her tainted innocence. She was not much slighter than yourself."

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