[P] [m] Ghost like you
#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.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: alcohol, language….

Quote:For veldt/Rand
set for right after the feast, Val is wandering near the outskirts by the Brass Potato 


Glacier colored orbs surveyed the lands, taking in every fast moving object, or blurred, as Valkyrie spun round and round in circles. Stopping to catch her breath, with two hands steadying herself on her knees. Those pallid fingers dug in as her vision blurred and spun around, finding it within herself to plop down into the fresh smelling grass, and give herself a small giggle. 

Alcohol was something she only indulged in once in a while, and the empty feeling in her stomach, made the Savoy child want to try to drink out of the flask again, yet, was met with only two drops that fell onto her tongue. Furrowing a brow, Val groaned before plopping it down beside her, the pretty hair that was once braided to her left had suddenly frizzed out in certain places, and come undone part way through. Leaving the wild-haired child looking like a candid picture of “freshly intoxicated”. 

Instead of letting the drunkenness take over her, and willing her eyes to pry themselves open. Val watched as the world somewhat tilted to the left, and then sat upright, careful to watch as the grasses before her seemed to spin, then still with a gentle breeze in the wind. Decidedly, two drops was not enough, and so she rose upwards and steadied herself against a tree, before placing two hands at the bark, using that as a placement to push off of. 

Pushing herself off the tree, the balayage became unhinged, yet she managed to wander further away from the area where the feast had taken place. (even though she was only a few yards from where she’d left her family, Valkyrie had made the decision to travel further.) Besides it wasn’t like New Caledonia was dangerous, if anything she knew everyone, and even more so, everyone knew her! Kalypso and her father, Tora, were practically celebrities, who wouldn't want to be nice to her? 

Sure, she could be a little rough around the edges, but it wasn’t like Val was unapproachable! Therefore, the tinier Savoy child, put her arms outwards, and heel-to-toe, began walking, very slowly, towards where the Brass Potato was supposed to be. Being very drunk, the path she took, was slightly to the northeast of where her destination should have been. 
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#2
thank you for starting !! >) lmk if i need to change anything.


He had developed something of a fascination with the Savoy-Tanaka children.

The parents undoubtedly hated him, for reasons that were not entirely unfounded. They were everything Rand hated about New Caledonia and more, almost as insufferable as the wretched Isiltári — but, just like her, they were prone to weakness.

If he could not strike at them directly, he would systematically prod his way in, one son or daughter at a time.

Dorian had been the first, but he would certainly not be the last. It was fate that Rand Coara happened upon his sister, smaller than him, with long winding hair that spilled over her slight shoulders.

The dog could smell the alcohol coming off of her in waves; young as she was, surely she hadn't yet found her limits. And still, she was just old enough that she began her ascent in the ranks, no doubt aiming for the same loftiness that her mother and father had somehow claimed.

She was just like the others, in spite of her greenness. They all saw it fit to overindulge and crow on and on about their pack's lackluster achievements. This youth was no different and Rand held her in the same contempt as any capable adult that disgraced his Kingdom.

Footsteps as heavy as falling boulders, the girl was stumbling towards the tavern, as if she needed anything more to drink. The riverborn followed her like a shadow, easing in closer and closer just out of her perception, until his hand snaked forward to grab hold of her arm.

"Oh, my," he rasped, her plush fur tickling his paw pads as he addressed her, with a trademark smugness he had been known for.

"You look far too drunk to be wandering here alone, my dear. Are you lost?"

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#3
Little did the Savoy child know, a lurking shadow was behind her.

For the moment she stumbled, forwards then to the left, a hiccup threatened her throat, and she choked it down with a swallow that felt like it burned the entire time. Those glacier orbs peered around her, staring everywhere but at the spinning masses the trees were suddenly becoming.

Then, something touched her— no someone. At first, her skin prickled and her hackles rose, a reaction to the unfamiliar touch, the voice a lull in her ears as her face swiveled around and she was nearly nose to nose with the creature known as Rand. A volatile feeling in the back of her throat trickled its way down to her spine, dropping into her stomach before it settled there and made her feel suddenly nauseous.

However, in her drunken stupor, Val’s guard was let down and she let out a small giggle at his next words, any feeling of paranoia or fear dissipating into thin air.

N-no.” She wobbled, reaching out to his forearm that was attached to the hand that was placed onto her arm, forcing herself around so she might face him. For an old guy he looked familiar, and attractive, perhaps that was the alcohol talking. Stumbling a step, the Savoy child nearly fell into his chest, but caught herself before stepping backwards, steadying herself with his weight.

I-I’m going for a—” a hiccup, followed by a giggle, her free arm not clutched onto by the prying hands of Rand, fixed her hair. “D-danshe.Dance. Valkyrie’s eyes grew brighter then, more clear, as if she recognized who he was finally, the interest waning momentarily, trying to step away from him, out of his clutches, but tripping over a stone her drunken eyes and feet carelessly missed.

And fall backwards she did, but not without those strong arms clutching out to her, reeling her far too closely to his body, but the warmth made her body melt, even though her mind screamed out it was perhaps too close for comfort.

Wh-whoops.” A nervous giggle, followed by a slosh of liquid from her tummy. All of a sudden she felt sick, unable to help herself, the yearling looked upwards at the only place that didn’t make her feel nauseous, which happened to be his face. Too close. Valkyrie was intoxicated, too quickly, too soon.

Here was her Knight in gleaming armor. Rand. A filthy slime, in the form of her white Knight.
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#4
She was wrong to trust him. But Rand would take advantage wherever he could, with whomever he could.

There was an initial recoil, the shock and terror clear on her features; he drank her fear like a fine wine, letting his pleasure etch itself into his willowy face and he gleamed down at her. He hadn't expected her to waltz so willingly into hold, not when her brother had bucked against his control — but alcohol was a powerful ally, as he had learned with Wither Rose. This was a method that proved tried and true.

The Savoy youth crumpled in his arms like paper. He was deplorable for so readily and closely clutching her when she fell — closer than what was necessary, far too intimate for a man of the cloth — but who was around to tell? And who would believe a drunken, stupid little girl?

"You're a bit far-gone for a dance, I'm afraid," the man chastised her, not eager to let her go so soon, and a bellowing chuckle rolled from his lips.

"What is your name, little bird?" He knew her face, her family, but not her. This, Rand was certain, would change very soon.

"Perhaps you and I can share a dance, right here, if you are so adamant about it — You want someone to ensure you make it home safely, don't you? There are bad men in this Realm, you know," he whispered in her ear, as if this was a secret to be kept amongst them, amongst friends; as if she hadn't been stalked by the very sort of man he warned her of.

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#5
And why should she not trust him? Was there a sliver of doubt engraved into her brain? Why yes, yes there was, the touch, too close, too unfamiliar, sent a shiver down her spine that the alcohol reeled as we like this. However she held her hands outwards in a distance trying to push against his chest, no strength left in her hands though, entangled in the fur on his chest. Absolved of any strength, they sat there like limp noodles, as she stared into those dangerous sunset orbs.

Too much alcohol, it was an ally to a predator such as himself, Valkyrie forbade herself internally, yearned to flee the scene, and yet, not even her legs would move.

He chuckled, the feeling echoing into her own chest, the fur stood on end. Was he dangerous? No, he couldn’t be, could he? Valkyrie’s judgment was clouded by the remainder of the alcohol, too much consumed, far too quickly. Rand was taking his sweet time, before he questioned her, asking her name, leaning in closer, the fur on the back of her neck prickled.

Little Bird.

Val…” Knowing wholeheartedly she should have lied, but she couldn’t, whenever he whispered in her ear, it made her freeze, growing rigid to his breath that tickled the inners of her ear.

The next words that befell onto her, swirled around in her mind, Valkyrie furrowed her brow, now having a hard time concentrating on him. “Mama say-says they are outside Caled-Caledonia.” What other way than to lighten the mood than to speak about her mother? Valkyrie was trying to wrap her head around this, and in all honesty there was no problem having a small dance, was there?

Whats your name?” It was whispered as she leaned away, aiming to take hold of his much too large hand, placing her feet in a way that was somewhat pigeon toed. Staring at him, focusing in and out, a sheepish smile crept onto her face. They were to dance, and that is all she wanted, spin her round and round, just like daddy used to do.

But this was not her father, and the intentions were far too impure for the child. Ignorant as ever, Valkyrie hesitated only a moment, careful to correct her previous “falling all over herself” appearance, a stoic expression in place. Somewhat sobering up, staring at the taller, elder male. Intrigued in his response, somewhat blurred, though.

Go home Valkyrie, you’re drunk. Yet, she stayed.
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#6
"Val?" he repeated incredulously, as if he hadn't heard her right. "No-no, that can't be it... Oh, yes. I remember."

It occurred to him, now, the quaint little nickname spurring on a stray thought, a throwaway statement or piece of gossip his tall ears had heard and summarily relinquished from his eavesdropping in the City Square.

"Valkyrie, isn't it?" He spoke it softly, gently, cradling the syllables in his warm, venomous mouth and rather liking the taste.

"Oh, you know very well who I am," he answered, laughing still, as the girl tried to wriggle out of his hold — which he surprisingly allowed. They couldn't very well dance, otherwise, if they didn't readjust.

"Rand Coara, of Lorn. Priest of Nín." This was said with a grandiose sense of self that he was no doubt infamous for. The fact she didn't know his name was almost an insult; but then again, she was far too drunk to entirely blame.

He grasped her by her hips, positioning her to face him, before he placed her own hand into place on his shoulder. Her other hand he took into his own, leading her in a simple waltz, keeping her close all the while, her pretty dress flush with his white robes.

"Your mother is wrong," he said, certainly holding no respect or love for the Savoy woman in his tone. "They are everywhere. They are just there, in the tavern — they are in the City Square, your neighbors, your friends. They hide in plain sight."

He chuffed, swaying back and forth with his captive audience before reaching up to place a finger under her chin and make sure her clear blue eyes were on him and him alone.

"It's a frightening thought, isn't it?"

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#7
The whole world had spun, round and round in her psyche, the icy orbs broadened a bit. As if she hadn’t spoken the truth, but of course she hadn’t. Val, she gave him that name, to throw him off, yet it disheveled her, causing an untidy mess of hair at her nape. A reproachful thought, commandeered by common sense.

Valkyrie.

No matter how many times she had spoken her own name, it was never spoken like that. Hackles rose, an entire row down her spinal column, signaling the unsteady grounds she stood upon. Yet, still, she stayed. “That’s right, Valkyrie.” Monotoned, without much deliverance.

They shifted then, her gown brushing against his robes, uncomfortable yet, unable to do much. The hands that grasped her hips sent a tingling sensation clear to the top of her tail. No, he was old. A thought, and yet, still, Valkyrie obliged, offered herself to him, in a way to dance. Because that’s what she wanted, and yet, his name made her prickle. Brows furrowed.

I remember you no-now.” A brief reply, followed by a curious glanced whenever his pointed claw found the underside of her chin.

O-oh.” All she could muster, nothing else to say to the Priest of Nin. Immediately she changed the subject, hearing the venom in his tone, careful to not step into those catacombs. “Who is Nin?” Explanations needed, an interest of sorts, yet she tried to appear unfazed, partials of the night skies were visible within his eyes. Watching, and waiting for him to strike, like a cobra. Yet, she did not blink, as she stared into those bloody red peepers.

As they swayed back and forth, the Savoy child allowed herself to lean towards him, if only a fraction, breaking their eye contact.
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