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deathsmajestyLiliana was in her home, minding her own business while Josu declared war on his newest nemesis: bread. She wasn't sure how or why he had decided that bread was the natural prey of kittens in the wild, but here he was, happily disemboweling a loaf of bread with delight. Clearly she was going to have to arrange some kind of more cat-appropriate enrichment, but that was for another day.
Which, of course, was promptly forgotten about when a sheet of fire burst into life above her coffee table, thus setting the theme for the day.
For all that the necromancer enjoyed lounging about in comfort, bestirring herself only when necessary, the protection of her own highly expensive skin was definitely categorized as 'necessary.' She flung herself over the back of the couch, in case the fireball exploded above her, and then bounced back up, hands crackling with purple magic. Her skin was glowing, too, the contracts that Kothophed had etched into her skin to seal their pact brandishing their magic. One crackling hand reached for the veil resting at her side.
"You think even with that little trinket, you could beat me?" Nicol Bolas' laugh boomed through her living room as his scaly face came into view. "I could reach through this fire now and squash you like an insect with a single claw."
Liliana privately doubted that; she knew a communication spell when she saw one, but discretion was entirely the better form of valor. "Of course," she said flatly, the lines on her skin fading into nigh-invisibility, though her hands did not release the power she had gathered. "What do you--what can I do for you, Lord Bolas?"
"Such politeness!" Nicol Bolas said with a huffing laugh that suggested he bought her show of politeness no more than she bought his claim. "I'm pleased to hear it; after all, we're such old friends, aren't we, Liliana?"
A flush overtook her face at the jab. "Of course we are," she said, managing to sound sweet this time.
"Considering all I've done for you, I should think we are," he continued. "But therein lies that rub. I've done so much for you, Liliana, and what have you done for me?"
"Precious little I can do in this backwater--"
"--Branch of the Infinte Consortium?" Nicol finished for her. "And there we have it. You've received much merchandise, and yet I haven't received payment for any of it. That seems...a trifle one-sided, wouldn't you say?"
"I can't make anyone buy--"
"I am uninterested in your failings as a shopkeep, Liliana," Nicol Bolas snapped, dropping the pretense of congeniality. "Start sending me funds or I shall have to take a more...personal interest...in these goings on."
Liliana had no idea why an ancient dragon would care about some piddling funds when he was already probably the wealthiest being in the Multiverse, but also didn't care to argue with his threats.
"Of course, my lord," she said, dropping a curtsey. "Why, there's a small market happening just today where I was intending to show some of the merchandise. I'm sure I'll have something for you soon."
She most certainly had not been planning anything of the sort, but we all told little lies sometimes.
"See that you do." The dragon's tone brooked no argument. "My personal interest doesn't need to be my person. I'm sure Kothophed would leap at the chance to do an old friend a favor."
Liliana didn't trust herself not to rise to the bait, so she merely curtsied once more. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Lord Bolas," she demurred once she had control of her tongue again.
"See that it's not," he said as the flame began to close in on itself. And then, once again laughing, "Enjoy your provincial market, Liliana."
She waited until the portal had closed completely before screeching in pure rage. And again, when she saw the flames had damaged the surface of her table, scarring the antique wood. She tore apart a pillow with her bare hands, the purple silk shredding beneath her nails and ending with a rain of feathers.
"Have this cleaned up," she ordered her steward. "And see if it can be repaired. I am going out."
"Yeeeees, Lady," he said in a whispering, creaky voice.
"And by the Blind Eternities, don't let Josu eat any of the feathers," she huffed as her kitten began attempting to pounce on these new foes.
She was gone by the time her steward groaned out his reply.
Which, of course, was promptly forgotten about when a sheet of fire burst into life above her coffee table, thus setting the theme for the day.
For all that the necromancer enjoyed lounging about in comfort, bestirring herself only when necessary, the protection of her own highly expensive skin was definitely categorized as 'necessary.' She flung herself over the back of the couch, in case the fireball exploded above her, and then bounced back up, hands crackling with purple magic. Her skin was glowing, too, the contracts that Kothophed had etched into her skin to seal their pact brandishing their magic. One crackling hand reached for the veil resting at her side.
"You think even with that little trinket, you could beat me?" Nicol Bolas' laugh boomed through her living room as his scaly face came into view. "I could reach through this fire now and squash you like an insect with a single claw."
Liliana privately doubted that; she knew a communication spell when she saw one, but discretion was entirely the better form of valor. "Of course," she said flatly, the lines on her skin fading into nigh-invisibility, though her hands did not release the power she had gathered. "What do you--what can I do for you, Lord Bolas?"
"Such politeness!" Nicol Bolas said with a huffing laugh that suggested he bought her show of politeness no more than she bought his claim. "I'm pleased to hear it; after all, we're such old friends, aren't we, Liliana?"
A flush overtook her face at the jab. "Of course we are," she said, managing to sound sweet this time.
"Considering all I've done for you, I should think we are," he continued. "But therein lies that rub. I've done so much for you, Liliana, and what have you done for me?"
"Precious little I can do in this backwater--"
"--Branch of the Infinte Consortium?" Nicol finished for her. "And there we have it. You've received much merchandise, and yet I haven't received payment for any of it. That seems...a trifle one-sided, wouldn't you say?"
"I can't make anyone buy--"
"I am uninterested in your failings as a shopkeep, Liliana," Nicol Bolas snapped, dropping the pretense of congeniality. "Start sending me funds or I shall have to take a more...personal interest...in these goings on."
Liliana had no idea why an ancient dragon would care about some piddling funds when he was already probably the wealthiest being in the Multiverse, but also didn't care to argue with his threats.
"Of course, my lord," she said, dropping a curtsey. "Why, there's a small market happening just today where I was intending to show some of the merchandise. I'm sure I'll have something for you soon."
She most certainly had not been planning anything of the sort, but we all told little lies sometimes.
"See that you do." The dragon's tone brooked no argument. "My personal interest doesn't need to be my person. I'm sure Kothophed would leap at the chance to do an old friend a favor."
Liliana didn't trust herself not to rise to the bait, so she merely curtsied once more. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Lord Bolas," she demurred once she had control of her tongue again.
"See that it's not," he said as the flame began to close in on itself. And then, once again laughing, "Enjoy your provincial market, Liliana."
She waited until the portal had closed completely before screeching in pure rage. And again, when she saw the flames had damaged the surface of her table, scarring the antique wood. She tore apart a pillow with her bare hands, the purple silk shredding beneath her nails and ending with a rain of feathers.
"Have this cleaned up," she ordered her steward. "And see if it can be repaired. I am going out."
"Yeeeees, Lady," he said in a whispering, creaky voice.
"And by the Blind Eternities, don't let Josu eat any of the feathers," she huffed as her kitten began attempting to pounce on these new foes.
She was gone by the time her steward groaned out his reply.
