I never want you to know

p. Isolda | Gov't Estate | Double-Dog Dare #2 - Challenge

POSTED: Fri Jul 07, 2017 5:32 am

How sunshine steals from autumn frost

She had taken the dare, and hadn’t thought much about the preparation for the dare. However, getting the dye hadn’t been as difficult as she thought it was going to be. Luckily – and perhaps that’s all she had on her side: luck – there was a trader in the area, able to trade her some of her dye. Pink dye to be exact.

It took Lithia a few days to figure out a victim. She wanted to prank Nivosus – turn his whole life pink – but she feared the consequences. She took him as someone who couldn’t quite take a joke, and she figured she was better off leaving that one alone. So, she turned her gaze on less formidable foes. Namely, Isolda – the woman she had met only a few days before.

Applying the skills she had learned and practiced in her younger days, Lithia crept up the stairs towards Isolda’s room. The woman’s room was only a few paces from her own, but she had just come in, and well, it would have been easier to take the stairs closer. However, even as she crept as quietly as she could, the stairs groaned and creaked with protest. Eventually, Lithia crept up on all fours, attempting to distribute her weight evenly so that there wouldn’t be so much noise. It seemed to have worked for the last couple of stairs, and by the time she had reached the landing, she could see Isolda sleeping in her room behind the slightly ajar door.

As quietly as possible, Lithia approached the door and pushed it open, careful not to dally as she searched the room for the clothing items she needed.

I figured I'd give you a chance to set the scene before I get into the good stuff? :3 [000]

Image Credits: Eric Leslie . Table by Gen.

Salsola
The Family
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Sammiie
Luperci Your poison taints my blood
hardest of hearts
and from it she fled

POSTED: Mon Jul 10, 2017 12:00 am

Isolda Lyashev
  • Word Count: [414]
  • Form: Optime
I hope this is enough for you to work off of!

Isolda was exhausted, and still could feel phantom dirt clinging damply to her fur despite the rigorous and freezing river bath she had given herself in the Gaspesia area. She’d spent the day digging up roots of various plants and shrubs for identification. And to get away from the madness of the dares. She had little desire to be the victim of someone’s idea of a prank, and figured if she were far away from the Estate, her chances of avoiding such a fate were much higher. A sturdy stick and her beleaguered stone blade had made for rather inadequate digging tools, but it was all she had at her disposal. Wearily she made a mental note to try to scavenge or trade for a small shovel or a spade – and soon.

Her shoulders and arms ached, her hands stingingly sore where more callouses were sure to form from the unfamiliar work of so much digging. Briefly inspecting under her claws, the woman noticed some clumps of dirt that had missed her scrubbing earlier. She considered going to wash her hands again, but she had just climbed the stairs to her room and her leg muscles were protesting the idea after a long day of crouching and squatting for extended periods.

So, instead, she heaved a heavy sigh and pushed aside the curtain she’d found to tack over the doorframe. It was ragged and spotted with holes, she preferred it over having nothing at all. The door itself was off its hinges and leaned against the wall. The room had been swept clean of most of the leaf and paper debris that had littered the floor before Isolda had claimed the space, though some of it still clung stubbornly in the corners. Normally she made a token effort at clearing these stragglers at the end of each day, but this evening she simply stepped out of her simple brown loincloth and deposited it on top of the desk she had dragged from its former place in front of the window to the foot of her bed.

The bed itself was a mound of skins and furs piled atop an ancient bedframe that was listing steadily toward the floor like a leaky boat. Isolda was particularly glad to see the lumpy mass, and veritably dropped into it, pulling a heavy deerskin up under her chin. Closing her eyes was a relief and it was not long before she was drifting into the dreamscape of sleep.

Life, into nothingness

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Isolda Lyashev

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