Re: [M] Leaving shadows in my vision

[KR/SP] More mysterious maps - Site 2

POSTED: Fri Jan 12, 2018 11:33 pm

She heaved for a moment, desperately trying to block out the sound of gurgles and the smell of blood. She didn't succeed. She met Sebastien's golden gaze for a moment, their eyes locked and mirroring a mixture of horror and panic. The Krokarian said it was wrong - yeah, it was wrong - but that it'd be okay, okay, okay. He repeated that phrase, which normally wouldn't reassure anyone, but Brandy nodded firmly, tail rising behind her. Then, the man shouted a name - right, right, Tzila!!

"Yeah, yeah!" she yelled, whirling around to see how her packmate was faring. She looked just in time to see that Tzila was ... doing pretty well, actually. It turned out that the racket that Brandy and Sebastien had made had distracted her adversaries for long enough to allow Tzila to catch them both off guard. One was sent sprawling on his back, while the other met his end at Tzila's cruel blades, slumping to the ground in a puddle of dark red blood. Holy shit.

"Holy shit," she said, gazing at the sheer amount of death and blood surrounding the previously unmarred clearing. She looked at Tzila, something like awe as well as shock in her gaze; she never knew that the serious librarian had the skills, the guts, to be so ruthless and fast and skilled. She was glad that she'd gone with them - she wasn't sure what she and the Krokarian would do otherwise. She was relieved, at least, that the gurgling and choking of blood behind her had stopped.

She glanced at the Krokarian as he slumped on his hindquarters, clear exhaustion and stress in his eyes. She looked at the unconscious leader of the group, glossing over the felled man that hadn't been slain by Tzila. She didn't want to acknowledge that there was ... one more to "get rid of". At least the leader would be useful - she tried to remember that they had killed their friends first. They deserved this. They deserved this..

"Yeah," she said, looking to Sebastion. She looked back to Tzila. "Uh," she said, looking at the downed non-leader again. "Do... we have to kill him too?" she asked, clearly uncomfortable. "We can, like. Threaten him... or somethin'?" At that, the man's ear twitched; he groaned, trying to get up, but his arms gave out from under him. He turned his head slightly to look at Brandy, eyes pleading. Brandy grimaced, averting her eyes from the man's gaze.

"Won't ... tell ... no one," he rasped, staying low to the ground. Ugh.


'souls is best wolf rpg ;)

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fighting dog of troy

POSTED: Fri Jan 19, 2018 12:59 pm

925 oops this got rly long x~x

The taste of copper in her mouth, thick and warm and pungent, like it could never wash away. It was familiar, terribly so, how many times had she gone out to hunt and felt the same taste in her tongue? But as she glanced at the dead man in front of her, the man she killed, who's throat she broke in her jaws like a deer, like a goose's neck, the familiar taste felt tainted and twisted into an obscene mockery. Tzila knew her family history, they were fights and warriors and killers. Her own father would go out and return days later after his own sick hunts, smelling of death and fear and not the good kind. Not like hunting prey for food and leather and bones, but hunting for sport.

She didn't like killing, made a point not to feel anything besides rational reasoning. It had to be done, it was either them or her pack, her friends and family. They could bring harm to Sapient and other packs, other families, chasing them down and caging them, breaking their minds into labor fodder, or worse. They had to die, or her people would face a worse fate than death. And yet, the taste felt like lead in her mouth, heavy and overbearing, like it was trying to close her own throat and choke her. She embraced it, this feeling, let it remind her that she was not a killed,r but she would kill if necessary. She wasn't her mother, or her father. She was Tzila, and no one else. No matter what those insistent voices would whisper at her ear, alone at night.

Brandy's curse forced her head to look up, her face void of expression but the deep, measured breaths of exertion, and the Napier saw the look the dog woman gave her. She wasn't sure how to feel about the awe and shock in it, had they didn't have the time to figure it out. The blood on her and Sebastien's back and shoulders snapped her into action, as she moved swift like a ghost to kneel down before them, ignoring the throbbing in her tired arms. "Are you two alright? No serious injuries? How are your heads?" She asked in a near monotone, too many emotions bouncing in her head to dwell on any one of them, to properly engage with them, all that was left was the solid need to make sure her companions were okay and not in any immediate need of her hands to look at their wounds.

But they weren't quite done yet, and the sound of stirring behind her made her ears shift back, a snarl twist her face, to see the man she had thrown try to snap back to reality. Brandy's meek voice from beside her tempted her to just let him go, avoid the bloodshed, but it was too late now. Blood had already been spilled, and there was no time for weakness, for doubt or hesitation. Them or us.

Bracing herself, Tzila stood and reached for the club the man had dropped. She would not, could not ask for either of her friends to make the kill; she was not cruel. They clearly hadn't been ready for this kind of action, and she didn't blame them. But they couldn't allow the slavers to warn the others, and if she had to make the kill, then so be it. She could carry that weight for her friend's sake. Raising the club above her head, she moved between Brandy and the lookout to break their eye contact. What a coward, looking to the Blackrust to appeal to her kinder heart. As he noticed her looming, he looked up to her and she saw Death reflected in her eyes, the shadow she cast on him the last one he'd see. How bitterly ironic. "Don't look." Tzila spoke, not sure if it was for her friends' or the man's benefit, but still. The club came down swift and certain. Like culling sheep, she thought to herself, putting them out of their misery. No feeling, no attachment, just what was necessary. She held onto it like a prayer in her mind, and as his body slumped down on the snow, his head cracked open from the swing.

"There. It's over." She sighed, but the words rang hollow even to her own ears. This was far from over. But at least they could just grab their leader and leave this place. She could still come back to get rid of the bodies, find something to dig with in the Estate, come back and bury them. It was the most she could do; a more bitter creature would gladly leave them to the carrion to pick apart, but it just didn't sit right with her. Yes, she'd come back and bury them.

She stood and moved to the leader, taking off the slim leather belt on her skirt to tie up his hands behind his back as he groaned in pain from moving his injured arm. She'd probably have to carry him since the others were too battered up to do it. Wonderful. "You guys can go on ahead, I'll catch up. Get those cuts looked at." She offered, hoping they were too tired and stressed to stay longer. She didn't really want them to see all the grim work of undertaking the bodies, or even her having to tug her daggers free from the dead man's ribs. That'd be a spectacle all of them could do without.
Tzila Napier
Cour des Miracles
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I only procrastinate and yell at Kitty
woman king

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