The Queen of Darkness

Can Lavorra talk her friend down?

Yes/No (Likely): [2,1] No, but… she’s not giving up on her

—

She’s only dimly aware of the sound of feet thundering into the chamber, then the cries of Skrain and Zeya as they spot her.

Melira clicks her fingers and does something, and Lavorra turns back in horror to see her friends, along with most of the Dark Elf Spell-rangers, restrained by bonds of flickering black shadow.

“No more interruptions. No more fools to suffer.” Melira laughs, soft and threatening, “In a moment, they’ll be mine as well, just as you are.”

But Lavorra isn’t hers. Not yet.

She can feel Melira’s power cloying at her, dampening her senses, willing her back into submission; this time she’s promised safety and adoration, not the servitude and sexual captivity of Kulrakan. She very nearly wants it.

But this is wrong. Melira’s plan might have saved them, but it’s done something awful to her friend. And after all this time, she won’t let that happen.

“Let them go, Mel. They’ve all risked their lives for you, and so have I. We aren’t your playthings, and this isn’t you. Kulrakan, or some overload of Daemon magic, I don’t know. But you’re not my Mel.” She glares at her friend, twisting in the air even as she’s held aloft. “Now snap out of it you silly cow!”

She actually sees Melira’s nose wrinkle - and knows that somewhere in there is her friend, affronted at the insult. “If you won’t serve me willingly, I’ll have to make you. Along with all the rest. And you’ll see before the end what a better world this could be. After all the suffering you’ve endured, the men that misused you, surely you want something better?”

“Not without free will!” Lavorra snaps back, feeling her Holy Icon hum with encouraging energy. “If I could round up every last bastard that hurt you and I then I would, but it’s not my place to judge them. That’s for the Gods to decide. Not me, and not you, no matter how powerful you think you are.”

“You really are so tiresome sometimes.” Melira sniffs, letting Lavorra fall back onto the bed, her supple body shaking beneath the tangled sheets. “Don’t you ever get bored of being so righteous and wrong?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of being a stuck-up bitch?” She blurts, cheeks burning as she tries to steady herself on the bed. “If you try to hurt these people, I’ll take you down - my Melira or not.”

“I’ll start with the Tiefling, I think.” The creature that is rapidly overwhelming her friend smiles cruelly through needle-sharp teeth, her hand reaching out, lifting a helpless Zeya into the air.

This isn’t working! I can’t reach her! She won’t listen!

Then stop talking.

The voice hits her like a slap to the face, and she feels her amulet quiver with resonance. Lavorra closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and feels herself rise again - this time under her own power.

She floats towards Melira, the sheets tumbling around her like a delicate gown, contrasting with the cruel dark array that covers Mel. She travels closer to her fallen friend, passing in front of the restrained Zeya, who drops back to the ground with a squeak, the magic holding her broken.

Melira watches her, as Lavorra glides serenely closer, something hungry in her eyes. But deeper still - close now - Lavorra can see the real Melira, screaming to be free.

Don’t worry Mel, I’ve got you.

Inches from her friend now, she meets her eyes, and sees this dark version of Melira smile in triumph.

Lavorra returns the smile.

Then socks Melira hard in the jaw, knocking her cold in an instant.

With a frizzling crack of magical energy, then both plummet back onto the bed.

“Gotcha.” Is all Lavorra can manage to say, her body suddenly exhausted and aching, every inch of her feeling broken and violated. But she finds Melira’s hand and squeezes it, then smiles as Zeya and Skrain’s frightened faces swim into view above her.

She looks up at them with a lopsided grin, seeing them upside down.

“Hey you two. It’s really comfy down here in the horrible Daemon King’s bed. I think we’ve all earned a nap.”

Skrain rolls his eyes, and Zeya flops down next to her, pulling the slight Paladin into a crushing hug.

“Gods below you scared the shit out of me Lavvy.” The Tiefling eyes Melira warily. “If that’s your friend, I question your life choices.”

“It’s not her, not really.” Lavorra mumbles, looking over at Mel as she rests her head on Zeya’s lap. Skrain sits beside them, rearranging her covering sheet with an umber blush, then smoothing the hair from her forehead with a gentle hand.

“She’s going to need a lot more help.” Lavorra adds, and glances over to where the Spell-rangers stand, watching warily. “She’s going to hate me for what comes next, but I don’t think I have any other choice.”

She allows herself a few more moments in the company of her friends, holding on to Skrain’s hand. Then she rises wearily, leaning on Zeya, and approaches the Dark Elven soldiers.