[P] [m] why will i never have the life i wanted
#1

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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I survived. I survived

It was a mantra that kept her moving through the woods, the beat of her frantic heart matching the rhythm of her frozen feet as they lead her through the forest. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had watched Ciprians face explode before her eyes; the blood scalding her cheeks as Ruckus hit him again and again. She could still see the whites of her captors’ eyes, the way his rage had boiled and petered out as he died.

Her mouth felt bruised from where he had kissed her, and she swore there were scabs along her throat from where he had nipped at her hungrily. His hands had consumed her as much as his mouth had, and even with the remnants of her dress folded to conceal herself against the cold she still felt entirely exposed. The memory of his hands cupping her waist and creeping along her ribs had her doubled over – her eyes pinched shut as she retched and sobbed.

At some point Odalis Amaranthe could not tell how long it was that she wandered through The North. The trees here were all the same, the sky bright and dark and then bright again – but it was too difficult to know which way was home. She was terrified that he would find her again and drag her to a place where she would never escape.

”Ciprian Tenebriso is dead.” Odalis reminded herself of this as she leaned against a tree. Her bleary vision made it difficult to navigate. In the days that followed her freedom her wounds had finally begun to ache and split. Sometimes she would touch her face, but it was so swollen and tender that it made her cry out against the cold. ”Ciprian Tenebriso. Is. Dead.”

*****


It was on the fourth day that Odalis realized that the cold had begun to seep into her bones. Sometimes she was roused from a sleep she had no memory of, her head tilted against a nearby tree or set against a pillow of frigid grass. When she touched her swollen eye, it was sticky and unseeing. She had no idea which way The Court was, but Ruckus’ words rang in her head.

”Just go.”

And so, she did.

Odalis went for as long as she could, clambering through thick woodland that sapped her energy and lead her further and further from her home. The dark wood bent over her as if to block out the sky, and when night fell upon the forest it brought with it the frigid promise of the season’s first snow fall. The entire copse of trees was silent with anticipation, and Odalis curled herself tightly amongst a twisted root-bed, exhausted and too afraid to go on.

Everything was damp, and she could no longer feel her injuries or her hands. She was tired. Too tired. Too hungry.

When the snow finally began Odalis had already fallen asleep. Flakes of perfect silver gathered in her hair and along the jagged edges of her dress. She looked peaceful as she slept, her hands curled tightly about her middle in an attempt to stay warm.

From the angle that her head tilted it left the insignia at her throat exposed - and it flickered like a dying candle against the night.





Hi new master. :> Rated M because of injury description. Shy


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#2
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Word Count → ??? :: GIMME GIMME GIMME





It was surely by the benevolence of some Great Power that she found the girl.


Either that, or luck - But Elphaba had never been one to put much faith in coincidence. In her life she found that most all things happened for a reason, though the purpose - the final ending - was vague and distant, flickering sometimes in her dreams like a wall of orange flame.


If her piety had lent her toward being a godly sort of woman, the young queen might even have knelt down in the snow and prayed over such a thing. But she had never taken fancy to any one of the pantheon, and found instead that her Craft worked best when she was at its beating heart.


So it was that when the small tuft of russet hair - dirty and greyed by snow, or maybe soot - caught her eye between the roots of the trees, Elphaba's thoughts to herself ran more or less like this:


How divine I am, to have been given this gift by the Earth!


The girl's pretty face was ruined something terrible. Even so, the Boss recognized her at once. It was a face that she had dreamed of, thrice or more, and the bright metallic insignia at her throat merely confirmed it.


The girl did not rouse when shaken. Her skin was cold and clammy, and the snow had tried to make a grave of her bed in the hollow between the roots, settling all over to cover her in a peaceful but deadly blanket of white. Annoyed by the inconvenience of it, Elphaba set about dragging her to the grey mare, who stood docile even as her new burden slumped like a sack over the saddle.


It was a long walk back to the tower. She sent the fox for Corrine straightaway - Neith would have been better, but summoning the good doctor might have cost her some measure of control over the situation. In this particular instance, control was more important to Elphaba than the girl's life. Besides, it would have been galling and down-right rude of the stranger to die after being delivered so fortuitously into her grasp.


Because she demanded it - of Corrine, of the tinctures and cleansing rites, of the unconscious redhead herself - after three days and three nights of fitful murmuring and sweats, the girl's fever broke.


And though terribly weakened she did, indeed, live.


Elphaba, her word wrapped in the power of the worldly and unwordly Law, would accept nothing less.


When at last the redhead's eyes opened into this new and unfamiliar world, one the soft hazy blue of a dawn summer sky and the other milky with film and nearly swollen shut, she could only look up into the Boss' violent gaze. A long moment passed. Sat by her makeshift cot at the foot of the old throng, the young queen stared at the object of her immediate obsession, feeling the thrill of success as it raced hotly through her veins.


Almost trembling with the force of her triumph, she said: "Welcome home, little robin. I have saved your life; And so the debt, the price of it, is owed. Do you - Do you remember me?"

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#3
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Odalis felt as if she floated in a dream that did not end – a dream that was tinged with fire and smoke, frigid trees and a hoary frost that crept through her with a burning that she had never felt before. As she slept she saw flashes of her mother cast in gold; molten pieces of her scorching the earth beneath her feet.

Sometimes she saw Isandro looking on with eyes that were the color of the sun.

She didn’t notice the emerald green which crept along her periphery.

***


When the woman found her Odalis was caught like a drop of blood against the snow. Her breath hung like a shroud before her face, and blood oozed from her wounds and caked in her hair. Her fingers lay clung together against her chest, buried into the frays of what remained of her dress.

She was transported with care, moved to a homeland that she did not realize ran in her veins.

She heard the voice as if it was from a great distance, and it haunted her until she finally woke up.

"Welcome home, little robin. I have saved your life; And so the debt, the price of it, is owed. Do you - Do you remember me?"

Of course she remembered. How could she forget?







Hi new master. :> Rated M because of injury description. Shy


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