Rythi

Through the Gothic Lens

• Green eyes. Green eyes track you from across the dens, and you are chilled as you escape to the theatre. Green eyes that covet, green eyes that demand.
• Rythi takes to calling on you for favors. “Fetch this,” she would ask sweetly, “Bring them here,” she purred. Her demure nature didn’t fool you for a moment.
• She is a witch, you decide as she curls her claws around your neck with a murderous grin. “Such a pretty face,” she croons, one claw gliding along your cheek and carving a razor thin line in the scales. Seers and witches are the same, little fool.
• Skulls decorate her den, and soon a new one joins the collection, mounted over her nest. “Such a lovely face,” she cackled, running her digits over the lovely curve of a snout before she settled down. “Such a lovely face.”


The marks itch. She knows there is something coming on the currents. Hardened scales clatter like armor as she rises from her nest, gliding through the tunnels to her little cove. Arlissa is already there, and as she begins collecting her materials from the shelves the seer sighs softly. "We are not having this conversation again," the witch tells her, setting her cauldron to boiling with a wave of her paw as she tips in a small amount of abyss striker scales.
"You rely too much on mystics and divining." Arlissa will not let it go today, it seems. The pale Pearlcatcher tracked her from her position behind the work table, fins waggling chastisingly. "You are a seer, and a powerful one, Rythi. You dull your powers with these... methods of yours."
"My methods are my own, Arlissa," she answers curtly as she dashed in a few jelly stingers to the brew, tilting her head away from the resulting noxious cloud. "I am a witch. Not a seer." The resident diviner sighs, shaking her head.
"I will leave the issue be, for now. Now, tell me what you see in your brew, and I will tell you if I see the same." Rythi snorted, leaning forward, and shapes took form in the liquid, swimming before her eyes.
"I see...."