Choosing to say out of the Alliance, the Cinders are isolated in their own conflicts, and when Helia Cinder reaches to the void for answers, she inadvertently draws a creature out. Expecting to be eaten alive, she is instead left with a man with no...
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"You won't feel much," Vice tried to convince Kopje Cinder to help them, but Kopje backed away with the repulsion one would expect from an infiltrator class grand mage.
Even if Kopje had chosen to live with the Sols, he was a Cinder through and through. Riff melting his brain and his healing her father had done a number on him, and he fell exhausted into an arm chair. This was a new room since the Songs had collapsed the main Sol castle into the ravine, but it was as posh as one could get. Real wood furniture with ornate carvings on the feet and backs, a bed larger than a small studio apartment and furnishings to match. Living with the devil paid off.
Helia hadn't seen Kopje since her eleventh birthday when he'd stopped by the Cinder complex to wish her well. Back then he'd still had that close cut style reminiscent of the human military, sparing enough hair for a small tail but nothing else. He'd had two eyes then, and Helia couldn't help but stare at the scar down his face and the empty socket. With current prosthetics, she wondered why he didn't get a glass eye. Cinders didn't care much what people thought of them, but they also didn't take pride in suffering injury.
"I get that, Vice, but I don't want any of your freaky magic inside of me. I can barely see straight, which I realize isn't much better than Pyre, but why can't you use him? He's also a grand mage, and you two seem chummy." The last words had both Vice and Kopje tightening their expressions.
The best her father had done for Vice was not kill him to Kopje's knowledge. Pyre had not broadcast that he'd bared his throat for Vice, and if Vice so much as uttered anything about it, Pyre'd stick a mage sword up his ass most likely.
"I need full control, Kopje. A body, magic, and a mind. Pyre would never consent to me inside of his mind, nor am I comfortable intruding into it."
"As I won't." Kopje crossed his arms as he leaned back. The silence between the two of them had Helia's ears ringing until the door latch clicked. All eyes snapped over as it opened and a man stepped in.
Helia had never seen a Song in person, as most her age hadn't. The only one known to live still was Wren Sol, and it wasn't like the Sols had picnics with the Cinders. The deep red hair that hung to the man's shoulders was near blood red, eclipsing the color of her spiral curls with a vibrance known only to one house. Like any infiltrator class mage, the Song was tall and built with muscle, but Helia couldn't see much of it than his body shape with his white mage robes. The Songs, like the Cinders, wore the ceremonial garb that some of the more modern houses had abandoned. Wide sleeves, airy pants to keep full range of motion, insulating anti-magic under layers and tight-fitting undershirts. Black Song notes trimmed the sleeve edges and collar to honor his house.
"Harper Song." Kopje acknowledged the man as he came in, standing from his chair even though his bones creaked in doing so.
"I couldn't help but hear your discussion." Harper spoke, his voice softer than Helia expected. All of the Songs were proud assholes to Pyre's telling, but this one seemed as tired as Kopje, though not as injured.
