Headed by a Snake

"Oh, this?" Elle straightened her back as she unsheathed the sword at her waist. "Lover-boy over there got it for me."

Coraline's eyes widened and she sat back to take the blade in full view, "The way it gleams... it's... Arcanite? OoOh. Expensive."

"Very," Tycondrius confirmed.

"The trophy wife gets all the nicest things," Elle giggled.

Tycon rolled his eyes. His lover was a humble woman... but he often worried that the source of said humility was her lack of self confidence.

He hoped that her new sword would work towards alleviating that.

It had long irked him that Elle's issued sword, per Tyrion regulations, was the incorrect length for her... admittedly non-regulatory height.

The Arcanite arming sword was more than an expensive gift. It was a durable and reliable combat weapon that also served as a symbol of her high status amongst Tycon's martial forces.

Its material was also practical, as the longer sword's weight remained similar to that of her previous.

"Her name," Elle smiled, "is Summer Song."

"It's so pretty..." Coraline nodded-- still in her half daze. "I love the hilt's design."

Elle was surprisingly close to being correct. The Elven sword's name was something like... Hawk's Cry in the Summer.

If the fates were kind, Elle would eventually learn its true name and bind the weapon spirit's soul to her own. As she had done similar with her Divine Armor, Gaheris, Tycon reasoned it would only be a matter of time.

Elle snuggled into the back of Coraline's head, "Let's go, baby girl. Gonna get you some pancakes, gonna bring you to the tailor for measurement-- then I'm putting you to bed."

"Th-that can wait, Ellie," Coraline pushed her 'bestie' away and stood up... though she had to stifle a yawn, "Sir Tychon."

Tycon nodded, "Report."

"I'm not entirely sure... but I'm afraid that the Vice President of the Sapphire Tower might have something against you-- or... us, rather. Have you heard of Constantine the Silver?"

Tycon frowned at the unsavory news, "Not in particular, but I'm assuming Miss Bella's second to be a Gold-Rank Archmage... Is there a motive? Or proof beyond hearsay?"

"Well... no," Coraline shook her head.

"Young lady," Tycon pursed his lips. "Never in the past have you spoken to waste my time."

"Tychon!" Elle glared. "Be nice!"

"No, Ellie," Coraline dipped her head in thought... "he's right to be doubtful. It's... pretty out there..."

The expression on the young elf's face wasn't one of embarrassment-- nor was it of total uncertainty. Coraline had her reasoning... and her judgment had always proved trustworthy.

"Too many things have been happening that could be easy to explain if it was him," She explained... "I got a lot of information out of Mister Porter, the other sun... and then... the letter President Bella sent to me..."

Tycon crossed his arms, "And if it's *not* your Archmage?"

"That..." Coraline sucked in air through her teeth, "--would be really bad. That would mean there's another big bad evil guy interested in us for all the wrong reasons... a different person with the confidence to call himself 'The Wizard.'"

"So not to be mean," Elle crossed her arms-- "but how 'bout the info we need to save your boyfriend? You know... the reason you went to the library in the first place?"

"O-oh, right," Coraline chuckled derisively as she shuffled through her notes, "I made sure to work on that before I started following leads on the case."

"The... case?" Elle tilted her head.

"Miss Coraline fancies herself as a magic detective," Tycon smirked. "We met when she deciphered the events aboard the Golden Eagle."

"I just want everyone I give a crap about to stay alive," Coraline sighed. "And myself, too. I really hope I'm wrong about Vice President Constantine..."

Tycon smiled politely, "And if you are correct, let us not be taken by surprise."

Coraline pushed forward a large sheet of paper, curled up at the edges, "Here it is, a map to the Tree God's Forest."

Elle examined the topographical map with expert understanding, "Ooh. That's not too far from here."

She hugged the elf again, picking her up off the floor, "We're so close! Come on, cheer up."

Coraline blinked her eyes, still not entirely awake... "I haven't slept in like three suns, babe."

"And that can wait until after we put you in a pretty dress," Elle teased.

Tycon twisted his lips to the side, "We're getting Miss Coraline a set of Battle Mage raiment, not a mere... 'pretty' dress."

"Why can't it be both?" Elle grinned.

...

The sound of bells chimed in Zhevra's ears, mournful... comprising notes off tune. It was a discordant melody that was still somehow soothing to the soul.

"(S-sister... please. Vyzen wants it so bad... So very bad...)"

Zhevra put her spyglass away and ducked back down before their marks could see them.

It was rare for most adventurers to look up to the rooftops. However, she was tracking a trio that included a Gold-Rank adventurer, an elf, and a Titanblood woman with unknown abilities. It was best to not underestimate any of them.

"No, Vyzen," She shook her head. "You saw the alleyways. You saw what remained of the... Bone Rats. Even the dragonborn received nothing that remotely resembled *mercy*."

Bells, more bells... haunting and enchanting.

"(Vyzen wants it... to be over.)"

Vyzen was a beautiful boy. That was something Zhevra never could deny.

His hair was white as fresh snow, only a single shade lighter than the alabaster skin of his naked chest. At one time it was marred with pink scars. He refused to say how he got them, but she'd always suspected they were self-inflicted from a time before they'd met.

When Zhevra adopted her little brother, she took him to her favorite tattoo artist... a woman from Bael Turath, just like her. His body became a canvas of magical runes and spell circles... scars of pain and weakness turned to symbols of strength and power.

After so many sessions, Vyzen's perfect body could be put on display in an art museum and he disdained the use of armor to show it off.

Zhevra liked to think it was so she could steal glances at his perfect body throughout the sun.

However, it was probably because he'd never been comfortable with wearing anything that got in the way of the feathery wings on his back.