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| - Once again dressed in the violet and black silk that normally is found on the mage, Gale sits by the edge of the spring, carefully dabbing a cloth against a shallow cut across her right side, grimacing slightly with each touch. It so happens that Juriatale is kept carefully at the Arbiter's side these days, in rain or shine. The woman wears an expression of serenity, picking her way through the woods carefully in her leather boots. Some movement is caught out of the corner of her eye and her step becomes cautious as she turns her head toward the pond. The sound of movement through the woods causes Gale to look up from her task, carefully looking around. Her eyes seem to flicker right over the Arbiter, but nevertheless, she rises and carefully brings her tunic back down to cover the wound and moves closer to the spring to tuck the cloth away into the waiting satchel that lays on the ground. From her place in the trees, Milora removes her bow from her back and swiftly nocks an arrow, drawing it back in the string as though preparing to fire. The arrow is not, however, released at this exact moment. The next movements, however, do not miss Gale, and she looks back at the Arbiter. "Do you forget that my powers far surpass yours?" she inquires lightly. "I could so very easily shift and you'd never be able to touch me." "If I had meant to kill you," the Arbiter replies calmly, lifting her head slightly, "I would have done so thirty seconds ago." "Even I could notice an arrow whistling towards my head," Gale notes with amusement. "And also could have killed you." She rises to her feet gingerly, eletricity crackling at her fingertips. "So, how about you put your bow away, and I will not fry you into a crispy blond. You would be of no use to your dull-witted husband in such a state." The Arbiter's grip on her bow is not yet relinquished, but it is /slightly/ relaxed. "I do not want to die, but if I could take a murderess with me I would consider it a death well gotten. As it is, I have other reasons for sparing you as I suspect you have for sparing me. Do you mean that you will withold your magic if I withold my arrows and we can talk like women? ... How do I know if I can trust you?" Gale's hands hold themselves up, the energy dying down. "See, I'm even lowering my guard on you," she points out. "You are about as willing to use people to the right needs as I am, Milora Lomasa, and at the moment, I have a feeling we could use each other. I would note, at the moment, you have no reason to trust me, and I would call you a fool if you did. A wary guard is always important when dancing with your enemy." "I can agree with you there." The bow and arrow are lowered to Milora's lap, but she doesn't move from her place between the trees. "You seem like an intelligent woman. What, then, do you hope to accomplish by all of this?" Gale lifts a brow, "By speaking with you instead of murdering you?" she inquires lightly. "My dear Arbiter, I am not a cold-hearted murderess, no matter what reputation you may have heard of me," she says with amusement. "The ones I killed, though of the Light, were as corrupted and foul spirited as many of the Shadow. It was very bad indeed." Frowning, Milora gives a shake of her head and then a quirk of her eyebrows. "Lady Reina Seamel," she says, sounding a little unsure of her words. "You tortured her. ... Their friends described them as good, pious people; what could they - what could she have done to deserve such a thing?" Gale's lip lifts in a look of distaste, "Clinging to the past. Holding onto the old beliefs of what the Shadow is, and what should become of the lot of us," she replies coolly. "Perhaps the torture was not necessary, but return a touch of the pain that they inflicted on those too weak to be able to defend themselves against the assault of the Church." A slow nod comes to Milora's chin, and her face becomes steely. "So you have, essentially, been training yourself for a lifetime all for the sake of a vendetta against those who dislike the Shadow. Why do you move now, when the Amnesty is in place and the Church has fallen?" "Hardly just for the sake of a vendetta," Gale replies. "But I /have/ been using my powers to try and offset the power of the Church since I was strong enough to be a sthreat." Her lips press together. "It is /because/ of the Mark that I have chosen to move. Reina Seamel and her husband were a part of a group that were planning to seek out and destroy the Touched mages before starting in on those of us unMarked. The Marked would just be left open to slaughter. It would just take careful and smooth words to the right ears in order to have everything fall into place." She rubs lightly at her side. "I /thought/ Reina was the one in control, but I was wrong. There is still one step above her." Something appears to click in the back of Milora's mind, and she narrows her eyes slightly, inclining her head and raising her eyebrows as she takes a step toward Gale. "Someone a step above Reina, in this group. I ... heard rumours, but never attended to them. Who?" Gale smiles grimly, "A very powerful Sunkissed. This is just speculation for the moment, but his name is Teivel," she says slowly. "He can nullify my powers, so I cannot get too close to him. The last time we encountered each other, he very nearly killed me." "Teivel," Milora repeats, turning the name over in her mouth before shaking her head. "I know no one by that name. What description does he fit?" There's a pause, and a furrowing of her brows. "If this really is the case, then ... what use have you for me?" "Give me time to weed him out," Gale replies. "I care not if you insist on my death at the end of this, but not until he is taken out, and this belief that the Shadow Touched can be wiped out is destroyed," she says coldly. "I will not leave Taran at risk." Milora's expression is grim, and her knuckles white. A deep breath is taken and released, almost silently; at last she nods her head. "I /will/ insist on your death," she states, "but - not yet. I shall see how this pans out. If what you say is true, then I wish you luck in your endeavor. It would be a catastrophe if the Church or anything like it were ever to rise again. "Taran Songbird," Milora repeats quietly. "He is your friend, is he not?" Gale nods, "Taran is my friend," she agrees. "I would do anything to see him kept safe. Take pressure off of him, and ensure that he is not penalized for his associations with me, and I will turn myself over to you when it is all over." She gives a grim smile. "I have just one condition to all of this. /When/ my death comes about. It comes by Taran's hand, and no other." This visibly shakes Milora; she pauses, nibbling on her bottom lip, for a moment. "I..." She stops, and lowers her head, silently returniing her bow and arrow to their rightful places. "I can agree to these terms, I believe," she replies quietly, at length. "When you see Master Songbird, tell him that the Arbiter respectfully requests his presence at her home at Riverhold Castle in East Leg. ... Are you through with me now?" Gale is silent for a few moments and then nods, "Good. When I see him next, I will be sure to pass along the message," she says. "Do him no harm, or else I will bring all that I am down on you," she adds lightly. "You can trust me that far." With that said, Milora turns and moves back toward the city.
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