[m] malleable beings

POSTED: Sun Apr 16, 2017 7:59 pm

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.

spring sickness, marked mature for blood, vomitting, etc. (+437)

The steady rain brought with it a strange sort of malady. It came on gradually over the course of a few days and all too soon, the beautiful kingdom Plague had just returned to was rife with sickness. She woke up one morning, her joints stiff and her muscles sore, and tried to believe that this was normal. She continued on with her life and her duties to her home, despite all the signs that her colleagues and their livestock were showing.

Eventually, the sickness became too much to ignore. For days at a time, she failed to eat and Sorcha’s attempts at coaxing her to do so failed. The mere thought of food sent her stomach churning and when the retching finally stopped, her muscles seized in fear at the sight of blood. Her associate called after her in a worried tone, hesitantly asking if she would like to be accompanied to wherever it was that she was going.

“No,” she replied, throwing her cloak over her shoulders as she left her cabin in a fit of hoarse coughing. “I’ll be back soon enough.” A hand rose to wipe at her lips, her fingers shaking as she walked through the Ruins of her home.

----

She had heard whispers once before of Quicksilver’s prior relationship to her pale-haired sister. The young woman had made attempts to learn medicinal skills, but Plague’s knowledge of her skills beyond that was lacking. But with Bane’s retirement from the duties of a Cleric, she had nowhere else to turn. She had no choice when blood spilled from her lips and she became more gaunt with every passing day.

Her colleague had moved out from her father’s tower, the same whispers had said. Fortunately for Plague and her tired body, her new home wasn’t too far from the Crone’s and she found it with relative ease. She examined the tower she knew her “friend” lived in, noticing the vegetation that covered seemingly every bit of the stone that the tower was composed of.

A sort of trance came over her then, and she smelled the lavender, the honeysuckle, all the floral bits and pieces that decorated the tower. It overwhelmed her, and had she not began to cough horribly, she would have vomited. Plague tucked her head in her elbow until the coughing waned, a shiver running through her frail body. There had to be something to be done, she thought. Something the Lykoi girl could do to help her, even if it had been months since they’d last seen each other.

Last edited by Plague D'Angelo on Sun Apr 30, 2017 1:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Salsola
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Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Sun Apr 16, 2017 8:43 pm

A few nights had passed since the witch held the ritual near the Blackwoods. The old slaves weren’t improving and various other Family members’ symptoms did not relent. The animals that were not culled were falling dead. And the accursed rains did not stop—was this how the gods showed their wrath?

In public Quicksilver was dutiful and assisted in any way she could, administering her own herbs and concoctions to try to alleviate whatever was plaguing them. In private she allowed herself to crumble. She hid herself in her bedroom, and by large she slept to avoid confrontation with the stress that was beginning to pile in her head. It felt like her mind was swollen. But she wasn’t sick—so she continued.

She had returned home from the slave quarters after another round of exanimations with Corrine. Nothing had changed with Khirot and Tarat; they were still as bad in health as they were the day before. Their old bodies could only handle so much but Quicksilver did not want to accept this truth. She gave Corrine new supplies to test on the slaves and retired to her tower to rest.

But there was no peace to be found, for disturbance followed Quicksilver and knocked on her door. She had been resting unceremoniously on a love seat but when she heard someone at the door she jumped back to her feet. A part of her feared it was Corrine to deliver unwelcome news about the trells. Or worse: that it was about someone in the Family.

With a flurry of movement, the witch straightened her hair into a neat bun and picked up a candle from a shelf. The parlor was dark and foreboding aside from the small beacons of light that she had lit; it was simply too humid to light the fireplace without choking on the heat.

It was still raining when Quicksilver opened the door and lifted the candle to reveal her visitor. Her pales eyes widened and she almost dropped the flame. The familiar face of death stared back at her with venomous eyes and she spoke as if she was not certain of its existence. Was she daydreaming of ghosts now? The shock thrusted her forward and her emotions were left behind and she did not know what to think.

“Plague?” the silver woman mumbled. “Is it truly you?”

Salsola
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Shannah
Luperci Witch

POSTED: Sat Apr 22, 2017 11:00 pm

(+334)

The last time she’d seen the Lykoi girl, things had been different. They had been different. At least, it’d been different from when they had first met. For once, Plague had trusted someone. Perhaps, she had trusted Quicksilver more than she had trusted anyone else, herself included. She remembered sitting with her at the Last Supper, a subtle silver hand upon hers. She remembered, hours before, when the same hand had grasped lightly at her dark hair, weaving it into a beautiful crown of perfect braids. She remembered the nights they spent with each other, where they discussed at length about what in the world kept them up at night. They were nights that Plague kept close to her heart and protected fiercely.

But to no one’s fault of their own, it hadn’t been enough to keep the demons in her head at bay. They came to her once in the dark of the night, hungry. She saw the fires of khalif, smelled the burning flesh and hair, and felt a fear rush through her body. The last sound she heard before the psychosis took over had been her own screaming. When she managed, finally, to claw her way back into her body, she was at the Outpost. And it was there that she remained until now.

Plague lifted her head at the sound of the Lykoi’s voice, green eyes glassy and wet from the strain of coughing. She raised a hand to brush the hair from her eyes, nodding in confirmation of her friend’s question. The priestess had yet to realize how shocking the sight of her must be after months without a single word from her.

“Yes, of course,” she started, clearing her throat. “I am not a ghost quite yet—”

Suddenly, she hunched over, her body shaking as she coughed again. When it waned, the woman straightened herself and with exhaustion heavy in her voice, spoke again. “—But it seems I will be, soon enough.”

Salsola
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Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Sat Apr 22, 2017 11:46 pm

Quicksilver could only stare as Plague spoke as if she was not entirely convinced that she was there. But when the cough erupted from her mouth and made her bow, her heart was seized; the silver witch gripped the door harder and almost stepped forward to assist the priestess. But she remained still in the frame and watched, her face smoothing into something tense and emotionless.

“I see,” she agreed tersely. One look at the woman and none could mistake the malady that wrought her body. It was not unlike how Plague appeared when she first arrived at the kingdom. Quicksilver had thought the woman would never look as dreadful again, not when she could have helped it. But she had thought wrong. However, how could one predict a sudden abandonment?

The girl had wondered and worried and guilted that she had her hand in Plague’s flight to the Outpost. Plague had never given her an indication otherwise. But the woman had compromised and barged and concluded. She had arrived at her own resolution that, no, it was not her fault, and fixed her eyes forward. And she moved on.

But the nights of yesterday came rushing back as she stared at Plague and Quicksilver felt as vulnerable as she had been as a girl. Immediately, instinctively, she recoiled at it.

But she bade her tongue to move. “Come in or you’ll catch a chill,” she said quietly and side-stepped to allow the woman into her home. Once she was in, she closed the door behind her and placed the candle back in its place. She did not turn to face her right away, defaulting to keeping her back to her as she asked, “But a chill is the least of your worries, I assume.”

Quicksilver turned around to appraise Plague, a smile on her face. She spoke as if nothing was amiss and she gave a curious tilt of her head. “Shall I brew some tea? I’ve a new recipe that I think you’ll enjoy; it calls for a dollop of honey. We find that it helps the sick with sore throats.” Her smile broadened, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and she asked, “Or do you like honey? I may have misremembered.”

Salsola
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Shannah
Luperci Witch

POSTED: Sun Apr 23, 2017 2:02 am

(+319)

There was something off about her friend, Plague noticed. Something cold, something she didn’t quite understand at that moment. She thought, briefly, that perhaps the Lykoi was sick as well, but with no visible signs of illness, she could not confirm this. This puzzled her, and as she tried in vain to discern what was wrong, she failed to notice the tenseness in the silver woman’s face as she spoke. Plague had never been one to successfully spot that which was hidden in plain sight.

After a lull in their conversation, the Warden invited her in. Plague, being ever the pragmatist, entered with only a moment’s hesitation after considering the possibility of worsening her condition should Quicksilver be carrying the blight, too. Once inside, she examined the interior with great curiosity, having never been in the Lykoi’s new dwellings before. Candles dotted what she assumed was the parlor, and above them hung the sea-glass that reflected the light to and fro, giving the room a comforting and soft glow. It was very much befitting of the Crone’s daughter, she thought.

Behind her, she heard the door shut and as she turned, she watched Quicksilver place her candle down without even looking at her as she spoke. The raven-colored D’Angelo nodded, “Undoubtedly so.”

Finally, her friend turned to face her, and had she not felt so terribly sick, Plague would have smiled softly back at the other woman. She closed her eyes briefly at the mention of tea, the thought of drinking some soothing her mind. This moment of ease lasted only for a moment, however, for when she open her eyes, the air grew tense from the Warden’s follow-up question. Plague furrowed her brows, confused.

“Is something wrong, Quicksilver? I can go home if you aren’t feeling well,” she paused before adding, “or if I’m bothering you.”

Salsola
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Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Fri Jun 16, 2017 11:34 pm

Quicksilver watched Plague with a broad smile—her lips were pulled taunt as if they were held by strings. She pulled at her words in the same calculated manner, and enticed the reaction she wanted from Plague.

“Oh, dear, don’t trouble yourself with the thought,” the silver witch said easily, giving the counter an audible roll of her fingers before she spurred and crossed the room, stepping past Plague. Nestled in the back of the room was a simple fire pit and she crouched to retrieve a box of wood from underneath a bundle of colorful clothes.

“I just supposed that I may have underestimated how much I understood you after you left without a word.” Quicksilver gingerly placed a few logs into the pit, her face hidden from view. Her words were expressive enough—they were spoken kindly, too sickeningly sweet to be mistaken for anything other than sarcasm. “If you had ever worried about inconveniencing me, you are a few months tardy for such formalities.”

The fire was lit after a few cracks of stones and Quicksilver stood, facing Plague once more. Her slender face was furrowed, her eyes shrewd and unkind. “Do not pretend that you concern yourself with my wellbeing when you don't show any interest in it until when you need to use me. And I will not play any charades in kind.”

The witch broke her stare and started for another room, gesturing to the many sittings that surrounded the pit. “Take a seat,” she said, more of a demand than a suggestion, and disappeared into the next room.

Salsola
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Shannah
Luperci Witch

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