Shattered Mirror

Yi TaeKyung · 11-11-2011, 12:48 PM

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Salsola's western beach.
Hover over any foreign words.
WC: 547

The Korean spirit had wandered many months from the lands that held packs and laws. The fighter’s wind would never leave her heart and soul, and the winds urged her paws to move, to perform the martial dance, to kill and to conquer. She sought only to fight, to defeat all that challenged her, and to grow as a fighter. But Darkness, too, grew within her. It was an inevitable growth. It latched onto her soul, turning it black as the shadowed face of the moon. Perhaps the Darkness, too, had pushed her from the lands of packs and laws. The dreams of darkness, of whispers, of so much bitterness, suffering and greed, consumed her. She heard the whisperings, as if His lips brushed against her ears, sending soundless, wordless tendrils of cold and shadow into her mind. He, the shade, had followed her since she had found the metallic brand, bearing 無, and had branded herself with it, burning it into her shoulder. As her flesh had burned and sizzled, she felt the ghost latch onto her, a curse she could not shake. And yet she drank it in like a drug that cooled and soothed her, that gave her power. The dark fae’s greed grew, and she was greedy for the fight.

But greed was a dangerous thing. Her last fight had boded ill for her. She had fought a lone male and his brother, one-on-one. Poor losers they had been, and while she had struck down one, from behind the other brought had his fist to her temple. The Korean fae should have blocked, but she had left her guard down. Fallen into darkness, her mind shattered and broken pieces mere shards of the stability with which she had been born. The fire of the fight still flamed, even as her mind became broken, even as she fell, even as darkness engulfed her....

The deep sound of the ocean rushed her ears, and she fell into darkness once more.

Coarse sand woke her. Pain flashed across her mind. The taste of blood and the ocean’s drink was upon her tongue. The black fae spat, rolling onto her back. The ocean lapped at her weakened body, pulling and pushing her, threatening to drown her and offering to spare her. Too weakened, she could be but at the mercy of the dark ocean. No moon shone within the sky. There was nothing save from the shattered light of those white orbs, and soon they, too, closed. Cold, mirthless laughter snickered in the dark. The ghost hovered at her shoulders, HIS tenebrous tendrils falling over her cold form, pushing through the wet, salted fur, into cuts and bruised from being hurled into the ocean. Black tendrils sought the fracture in her skull, licking their way in, savoring her blood, the remnants of her mind. There was emptiness now, no direction, no predictability. There was only the fight, only TaeKwonDo, only shadow. It filled her like a black tar. Hoarse laughter clawed from her parched throat. No words formed as the strong, white teeth, hungering, desiring, flashed in the night and were gone. Pain cut the darkness like one of her kicks, and she fell into Darkness, her lean, muscled form limp and cold, nearly dead.

Salvia Eternity · 11-21-2011, 08:23 PM

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+3

One singular moment had radically changed Salvia. She had been horrified at Sirius’ revelation, but it was one that came with a great and terrible knowledge. Her oath was not to her mother—it was to him, to her King. In her heart she would hold her blood strong, but stronger still was the devotion to the Hunter. This fanatical thought had been her motivation in the past few weeks, and it had left her body and mind in a strange place indeed.

Her weight had reached a plateau. While she ate, and ate heartily, a metabolism made for a larger body than the one her mother’s bloodline had offered was fast consuming. Each activity burnt away her fat, leaving her body lacking in softness. Truly, her thick pelt hid such truth, but to touch her was to touch a hunting cat. Where her brother grew massive and mighty, she held to a svelte frame. Under her plush fur was a tiger made of steel and fury, however. Already she had wounded an Inferni coyote severely, and though she had truly wished to kill him, the fact he had fled gave her power as well.

Duties, too, had been refocused. She was close, and oh so very close, but she needed time. For now, though, she worked on her main duties. Combat training with Tlanti had ceased now that she was ill, and Salvia had only Pandemic (when he was not oogling their sisters) to work with. She was outside of the borders now, and moving only because she could not stand stillness. Chaos was in her blood.

A strange sound drew her to the coast. Laughter? She followed it, a pale wraith, and was surprised to see a wolf looking half (or mostly) drowned on the shoreline. Salvia felt no sympathy. A product of her upbringing, she judged wholly and without mercy. Weakness, even at the hands of the inevitable, was a reason to think of this woman as less. With her body tense, she approached and knelt. The she-wolf was not dead, but she was wounded and freezing.

One hand lowered and touched the rippled, hard lines of muscle along the shadow’s back. “What a pity,” she muttered.

Yi TaeKyung · 11-22-2011, 12:54 PM

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Let me know if anything needs to be changed ^w^
WC: 504

She was in a shadowed world. The life blood flowing beneath the black pelt slowed, pooling where she had been struck upon the temple. The wind’s cold breath snickered over her body as the black tendrils of her shadowed mind began to tighten. Her body was utterly weakened, too defeated to even shiver in response to the cold. She had no choice but to accept the chill and the dark into her body as an inevitability. Forced into submission by dishonor and by the Wild, the martial artist was being forced to accept ultimate defeat: Death. The shattered mind wandered and faded from reality and fell into shadow. In the dark recesses of her mind, He sat, waiting. Black eyes were the nothingness of an empty soul, and it drew her in with an unearthly magnetism. The Darkness was complete there, thick and material. The tendrils tugged at her consciousness, and He offered only an imperceptible mirthless sneer. The sound of approach was lost to the Korean, lost in the timeless susurrus of the sea. The beginnings of a snarl distorted her damp maw as He approached her, his bestiality overwhelming. The sound of silence, emanating from his shut jaws, was a deafening roar echoing within her. The Korean tried to resist, but he was already upon her—an immaterial shade.

The touch elicited no initial response. But she was suddenly pulled from Him, and she felt a frustration at being unable to discover Him. The young fae found enough strength to open her eyes. At first she saw nothing, but slowly a figure came into focus. The scent traveled more slowly, made sluggish by the cold. The wounded could not comprehend the situation. Her mind was still entrapped by the treachery of those lone brothers, by her defeat, by the darkness, by His shade. Then a voice sounded, a voice from reality. The words were foreign, and the broken mind could not translate. She knew only that this creature was strange. She knew only that her instincts urged her to fight. Hungering jaws parted, trickling blood marring her strong, white teeth. A hoarse snarl erupted tardily from the foreign throat. Her body did not respond to her wishes. Already her strength was spent. A rage was felt within the fluttering of her heart before the He and the Darkness reclaimed her.

But she did not sleep. She remained aware—marginally, distantly—of the world. Masked by His shadowed reality, she struggled to rise up and fight, to understand what the world presented to her. But she could not.

A weight was pressed upon her body. The cold lessened. She perceived only the oppressive darkness that she welcomed so readily into her heart. He offered it to her. Death no longer seemed a threat. Weakness, however, overwhelmed her. The world began to shift, but it was not the shifting of the ocean. The sea had not reclaimed her body. Yet her material self seemed to travel across space and time to an end unknown.

Salvia Eternity · 11-22-2011, 05:20 PM

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It was as if lightning crossed from her fingers and reignited what remained in the woman. Salvia’s hand recoiled as if she had touched a flame, and cat-like, her fur bristled and her lips pulled back. Yet the woman collapsed back into her dreamless sleep and left the girl with doubt in her mind. While she imagined weakness here, the will to live was strong. Some part of her instinctively recognized this; another intelligent part recognized the strength within the water-logged form.

Salvia left her, but only to near the forest. There, tethered to a tree and grazing, was her father’s horse. She had been taking the mare more often, favoring her size. It would make what she was about to do easier.

There was much to be said for her own strength. Salvia was pure muscle, and while she initially struggled to position the wet wolf-dog, once she had hoisted her onto the horse things were easier. She pulled herself up behind the unconscious thing (having satisfied she was indeed no longer dangerous) and gripped her around the waist with one arm. “Horse, haus!” Was the singular command, echoed by a sharp jab. The mare took off at her heavy canter, knowing the routes from the borders well.

They rode south. Even with the cold wind in her ears and the steady dadum, dadum of hooves against earth, Salvia could feel the heartbeat of the woman against her chest. This one would not break easily.

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