[m] maybe i should cry for help

POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 12:47 am

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.


He had been following her for hours.

He wondered as he stalked her whether or not the pretty girl had ever known hunger or despair. There had been so much in his life that had been good and right – but it had all changed in an instant. He wore a sweater which barely warmed his patchy skin, the long scars along his arms and chest evidence of the poor lifestyle he had been forced to adapt to.

Winter had robbed him of a proper life. He was a single desperate man with protruding ribs and a sickly wheeze. He stood between the knotted trees and panted heavily, drawing the scent of her in over his tongue and along his crooked teeth. The dagger in his thin hands looked miserably small and glinted white beneath the cloudy sky – but he knew that his time would come.

He had become an expert in patience.

"Papa-" The man glanced at the malnourished cub that trailed groggily alongside him, "Not now."

She was beautiful, with long auburn hair that ran in blood-red rivulets over her shoulders. She sang as she walked, her skirts ruffled around the edges and brown from wandering the dirt path that lead through the deep forest. She had a plump looking satchel which was hung loosely over one of her arms, and the man was determined to leave this encounter with something.

Something in the golden Onuban had urged her to explore – to prove that there was more to the South than the tiny court with its tumultuous family ties and newly christened Queen. Odalis had found herself wandering the grounds absently as the tell-tale signs of winter had slowly begun to fade. The greenery spoke to something deep inside of her – and more and more she found herself dreaming of the crisp air that came from mountains.

The further she went, the more she considered that perhaps she was being followed.

It was nothing more than the subtle creeping feeling along the nap of her neck that said that eyes were on her - but suddenly she walked straighter, one hand clutching at the leather strap of her hand-bag.

He moved smoothly from tree to tree, each of his feet landing silently as he watched her - teeth bared hungrily. He had ordered for his son to stay behind hidden just out of sight.

She was singing again, a wonderful song that rose and fell as if to match the beating of his frantic heart.

When he finally leapt at her she did not expect it, her large blue eyes wide with fright. She held up her hands, pushing against his paper-thin chest with all of her might.

The forest erupted as she threw back her head and screamed.

come rescue my bb - I found a site with some interesting prompts that I thought I would use for my own nefarious purposes :)
"A working-dad desperate for money to feed his family turns to robbery, only to find that he’s chosen a wizard as his victim."

Last edited by Odalis on Fri Mar 30, 2018 8:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
did we light too many matches?
turn ourselves into these ashes?
Salsola
Indentured Servant
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Amanda

straight through the smoke

POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 11:38 am

No sooner had Neith returned from his previous sojourn had his anticipatory feeling of dread began to culminate. The Boss (or perhaps it was Elphaba) insisted on another Supper so soon after the last, naming the Heiwa’s nephew to be a Revlis and her half-brother, and announcing a union between Krios and one of Abeni and Heine’s children whom Neith had yet to acquaintance. Not days before that, Neith blurted feelings to the Hierophant he regretted, and the Warden spent all his days since in yet another provoked state of paranoia.

He wondered between highs and lows whether this had become his new norm. Paranoia. Broken promises. Feelings he couldn’t explain and were too afraid to act upon. An internal war of vengeance, fear, and liberation.

There had to be a way out. He could leave the Thistles, as he had implied with Ondine, but where would that leave his family? Where would that leave Elphaba?

Can you wait for me, Neith?

Neith pressed far and east, a vehicle for a labyrinthine mind, traveling the criss-crossing path by foot as he traveled the endless maze of anxieties inside his head. There was no risk of Briarblack this far south, that was certain. He searched for the first signs of spring, flashes of green in an otherwise brown and wet landscape, and found little. No matter. He could identify some of the herbs and plants he wanted by what remained of the last season’s stalks. He made sketches of their shapes and drew small maps into the margins of a beaten and broken book, notes of where to go further into spring and what to look for.

And he was interrupted in his studies, just as last time, not by an old friend but by a scream from the woods. The book in his hands fumbled in alarm, and was caught before it fell into the mud but tore nearly in two down the center seam. He swore, shoved it into his satchel, and slipped rapier from its sheath as he ran.

Neith hadn’t need to read the situation: A young woman was under attack, and he thought no further explanation needed. He identified an opportunity at the man’s shoulderblade and jabbed the blade’s tip—and saw a moment too late a mirror image of Briarblack’s exposed shoulder during the war.

The doctor stopped himself scarcely short and barked instead with rapier poised, “Let her go.”

HOPE IT OKAY IF IT ME

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Lin
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POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 1:15 pm

She felt as if her scream lasted for an eternity, echoing and echoing through the trees like a wandering echo. The man had tugged at her hair, shoving her sharply so that when she finally stopped screaming she was stumbling awkwardly away from him. Something in his eyes had changed as soon as she had started fighting him – and she wondered somewhere in the back of her mind if it was a sliver of regret.

She could feel him beneath her claws when she raked him over and over again.

Angry red lines appeared across his chest, the dirty fabric of his tunic hanging in shreds where she fought against him.

He was shouting, but she felt as if he was shouting at her through a layer of water – and her ears were ringing too loudly for her to understand anything.

”Give me your bag!” He was tugging on the leather strap, his yellow-teeth bared ferociously, ”Give it to me!”

She noticed the tiny dagger in his hand and stepped away – gasping in fear. It had dragged itself across the back of one of her hands, and now the wool of her skirts was stained a deep dark red. It was all she could see, that shiny tiny weapon - and she imagined it stabbing deeply into her side. She was so far from home... no one would find her for weeks.

“Let her go.”

She hadn't even seen the silver mans approach, for she had been too caught up in the wild eyes of the hungry man. There was a rapier pointed now at his back, and the cold expression of her savior was unflinching and teal. She was tugging again at the leather satchel, even as the desperate man began to back away.

His face was so thin, his throat bobbing as he gulped awkwardly in the ling silence which followed the other mans words.

"Let him go." It was a tiny voice, one that rose above the clamouring silence shakily and with an undertone of fear. The mans shoulders visibly sagged, "I told you to stay behind." His hands dropped the fabric of her dress where he had been holding her and she could see every wrinkle that had been left behind by his frantic hands.

Odalis backed away, still clutching the satchel to her chest. She was breathing rapidly, but glanced between the pair every few seconds.

She edged toward the red haired man and his rapier, trembling.

Last edited by Odalis on Fri Mar 30, 2018 8:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
did we light too many matches?
turn ourselves into these ashes?
Salsola
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Amanda

straight through the smoke

POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 6:48 pm

Evidence of a tousle was obvious before he arrived. Her assaulter was scratched up and her clothes wrinkled in the fray, but the scrap came to a screeching halt only upon the Warden’s intervention. Shaken observations of her assaulter seemed to come in tandem with hers—he was thin, thin in such a way that resurfaced memories of the Heiwa’s own reflection following clan captivity, but painfully worse.

A child emerged from the wood, undetected with gratitude to adrenaline. Blade unyielding, Neith glanced between man and child without drawing conclusions. He was unarmed, save for that little dagger, and Neith placed himself swiftly and boldly between man and the redhaired dog when she crept a safe distance. A scratch in his shoulder tinged, perhaps imagined, as a permanent reminder.

Rapier poised at the older of the two, Neith angled himself to maintain both in his sights. He was Salsolan, he knew a trap when he saw one, but this scenario left him questioning.

“Both of you, back up,” he said evenly, fingertips drumming once across the extravagant hilt. In that moment, he thought himself far more intimidating than he likely was—a bold and powerful hero with a dashing sword, rather than the stringy, pretty man with a stringy, pretty needle. Whatever the case, fortune found his side. “Explain yourselves. Who are you? What do you want?”

whose eyes you gonna use?

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Lin
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POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 8:29 pm

It felt childish in that moment to long for her mother and brothers. It was evident now more than ever that she was in this place alone. She clutched at the satchel as if it held the most precious items in the world, her blue eyes glimmering on the edge of tears as she stepped even closer to the mahogany tipped man. She noticed for the first time the long muscles in his arms, and the expert way with which he flicked the rapier against the mans skin.

She felt as if she knew nothing of the world.

The small boy was staring at them both hollowly, his sallow cheeks huffing as he shivered nervously.

The man did nothing, did not dare even move.

His weapon was pitifully small against the Salsolans rapier, and he refused to meet the gaze of the frightened woman who whispered in spanish to herself beneath her breath. Odalis wished for the light of the lantern to find her, to cleanse of of this man and the memory of his clutching fingers against her pale fur.

"I'm- We're-" He rattled a breath through his jaws and it sounded as if his world was ending, "We're so hungry."

The boy was silent but his eyes flicked to the plump satchel which she held clutched in her arms. It acted as a shield between them all, and she bit her lip - feeling the steel rod of fear waver in the wake of her newfound perception. How long had they been hungry? Where was the childs mother? The mans wife? She trembled again, her shawl slipping from one shoulder with the force of her movement.

The man held up his hands as if he were exhausted, the tiny dagger tumbling from his hands as he backed away from the long silver sword and back towards his son.

"Please, anything you could spare..." His eyes were large and glassy, "You were our last hope."

Odalis felt her lips drawing back as finally she found her centre - a place that was far removed from the fear and worry that coursed through her veins. This, this was anger - and it boiled red hot straight through her. "You could have asked!" It surged over her white hot, "Did you think you would kill me?!"

She hissed, "And then-" The man was shifting his weight, stepping further and further away - but she saw the note of shame and hunger on his lips - the way he glanced at her trembling arms and wiped his mouth with a dirty hand.

There was no food in her bag. There never had been.

She heaved a breath and felt herself retch, over and over again.

did we light too many matches?
turn ourselves into these ashes?
Salsola
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Amanda

straight through the smoke

POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 9:19 pm

The man blamed hunger, and dropped his dagger to the ground.

They weren’t lying. Father and son—Neith assumed son, anyway—both were built of sticks and skin stretched taut, like tanned leather drawn out and exposed hours in the midday sun. They asked for scraps. The woman at his back screamed at them, criticizing, and Neith did not intervene. Though his eyes watched the man, he focused on the child in his peripherals, too young to be exposed to hunger and violence. A father and son down on their luck, perhaps talentless like himself. Perhaps unequipped even to set traps, the least of the Heiwa’s talents in survival yet the most integral.

For a blissful moment, Neith found himself grateful for Salsola. Grateful for his station, for those who cared for him. For mothers who raised him capable, raised him well.

Sympathies dwindled fast, given rising revelations.

The woman behind him faltered. He turned his ears away, a burning developing in his chest never before experienced as observations clicked into place. For all his hours wondering of what the world outside Salsola was like, this was never what he had expected. These were levels he thought no one capable to drop.

“Don’t hurt my dad,” the boy cried, putting himself between the Heiwa and his father, and earning the rapier’s blade reflexively pointed his direction. This was no place to be a hero. Not for reasons like these.

Neith raised the blade parallel to his face and breathed, settling the turn in his stomach and silencing the woman’s trials behind him from his ears. “There is a trap south of here,” he said, eyes closed, focusing on his breaths until the tension in his innards passed. “Hours old. Something should have caught inside it by now. I don’t want to see you again. Go. Now.”

PPing NPCs with permission~

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Lin
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THE GOOD DOCTOR

POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 9:56 pm

Perhaps the boy had never grasped his fathers intentions. Like Neith, Odalis considered the life with which she had been thrust into and was suddenly thankful for the over-ambitious mother who had brought her into this world. The silver man was glacially still, the teal of his eyes unmoving as he glared at the man who stood across from them.

Odalis stood and finally wiped at her mouth, her long ears twitching as Neith Heiwa spoke.

It was obvious by the way that he spoke that he was familiar with the area - he had been through here before and understood the terrain. Mention of traps had her standing straighter and ignoring the nausea which roiled in her gut, "Traps?" Her voice was nothing but a nervous whisper cast out into her bloody hands. Who was her savior?

The child had padded closer in an effort to be closer to his father, his reedy voice causing Odalis to flatten her ears. The sword seemed so large against the dagger which had been cast aside, and quite suddenly all present knew that there was only one outcome that left everyone with their lives. Odalis felt a whine build in her throat, and she silenced it with a chuff.

The man was swaying nervously, his whiskers twitching. "I don't know what to say." Blood trickled from the wounds where Odalis had claws at him viciously, "We will go." He glanced at his son, "Now."

He glanced at the satchel for a final time before gesturing with his nose. "C'mon now Booker."

Odalis watched them vehemently, her lips drawn into a firm dark line. They had come so close to ending her life, so close to stealing everything from her. She felt her teeth chatter, and she suddenly clutched the mans lean arm, her bloodied hand leaving a long in-graceful stain against his pelt.

The pair disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

As soon as they were gone she felt herself lose her nerve, large tears angrily tumbling over her creamy cheeks.

"Dios, dios - Dios!"

She held his arm tightly in an effort to prevent herself from shaking, "Thank you."

did we light too many matches?
turn ourselves into these ashes?
Salsola
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User avatar
Amanda

straight through the smoke

POSTED: Fri Mar 30, 2018 11:15 pm

Just like that, they were gone. No thanks, no gratitude. In their wake, Neith wondered if he should have offered to teach them how to build traps, and trusted the father would take the time to study that which Neith left behind and attempt it on his own.

He was not certain whether it was right to let them go. To let them prey upon someone else, to possibly commit the unimaginable. He memorized their scent in his nostrils, and made a commitment to ensure it never reached Salsola.

Composing herself, the woman took to his arm and left behind a smudge of red. “You’re wounded,” he said, slipping away his rapier in a hurry. Gently, Neith took her hand and flipped open her palm, exposing a series of knicks and scratches throughout her arms and shoulders. Frowning, he shook his head and urged her away from her own vomit and down to a seated position. “You should sit. I’ve some supplies on me, hold on.”

He glanced once over her shoulders to ensure the man and his son were truly gone, then released her and swept the satchel off his person. “I’m—” a pause, as the remnants of adrenaline almost drew forth his true name, “—Rust. Gods, I’m glad I was nearby.”

Settling down on the ground beside her, the doctor began to dab at the scratches with a wad of green leaves taken from a jar in his supplies. “He knicked you pretty well, didn’t he... Tell me if this is too much pressure.”

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Lin
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POSTED: Sun Apr 01, 2018 5:36 pm

Perhaps there was good left in the world after all. The little boy only peered back at them once before trotting to catch up with the thin frame of his father. There had been no further altercation between them thanks to the silver man, her savior - and she found herself releasing a pent up breath when at-last they disappeared from sight. She thanked every deity she could think of for the mans sudden appearance, her spanish words lilted with a musicality that her english tone sometimes lacked.

She trembled again before taking in the long tress of mahogany hair that spilled across his shoulders - the bright teal eyes filled with concern.

Odalis whined softly at the sudden realization that the blood - all of it, most of it - was hers.

She sat at his command, her skirts pooling messily around her as she pressed away angry tears from the corners of her eyes. There were smudges of red everywhere - along her jaw, at her wrists... and the blouse which had been so crisp and white now hung in disarray around her shoulders.

She took a deep breath, 'I am Odalis Amaranthe... I am so thankful that you were here." She trembled again, "I can't imagine... if you -" She glanced at the stain her retching at left against the wood floor and winced, not allowing herself to think of it any longer.

The man moved like he knew what he was doing, and Odalis held her arm as he took apart his bag - leaning jars and herbs against sticks and leaves as he sorted and finally came back to her. She found herself prickling with interest - who is this doctor? - before realizing that the blood was still seeping through her tightly clenched fingers and pooling in the wool edges of her skirt.

His hands were warm and soft as he examined her, turning her hand this way and that as his eyes narrowed with concentration.

She bit her lip, "No, thats quite fine."

She stared at him and finally whispered, "Are you a doctor? Where did you come from?"

:)

did we light too many matches?
turn ourselves into these ashes?
Salsola
Indentured Servant
User avatar
Amanda

straight through the smoke

POSTED: Sun Apr 01, 2018 10:18 pm

The women of Salsola were far from the frilly types, each beautiful but with a powerful and commanding presence. He had missed the women of the outpost, who wore their hair long and their dresses longer, who walked without exposed weapons but double the exposed skin. Busy as it was, Portland was a realm of culture and color rarely seen in the cold north. Odalis, as she introduced herself, stood out like a flame in the post-winter mess of browns and greys. He looked upon her and saw the people of the outpost, but was not struck with wonder and admiration as the younger Neith had been. No, a Neith seasoned with age could only question how she could paint herself so pubicly vulnerable and wander about as if to flaunt.

She was sweet, a little innocent. Unaccustomed to violence, and shaken by the sheer sight of blood (let alone the near reality of cannibalism). It was charming, somehow, and the young Heiwa found himself smiling to himself despite her tears and fretting. She stopped herself between words and glanced back at the mess deposited earlier. Her face turned, he saw a stain of blood at her chin, and with his free hand, licked his thumb and rubbed away the worst of the stain from the fur along her jaw.

“You’ll be ready should they come back, won’t you?” said Neith, smiling sadly. “Best to watch your back and move on than to dwell.”

Painfully ironic for him to say, as thoughts of both Ask Fylgja piled higher and higher upon his subconscious, ready to instigate panic the moment he allowed them freedom to roam his consciousness.

He applied next a greyish salve from a jar across the widest wound within her palm, no doubt the source of pooling blood and stains given all her fidgeting. He cupped her hand in his, and with the other pressed linen into it from his satchel. “More or less,” he replied, “but I’m still learning. Seems it always pays off to carry some supplies with me when I go out.”

He wasn’t sure how the inner circles felt about using supplies from their stores on strangers, but he chose not to think about it. “Uh, west. Not too far from here. I was hoping some of the herbs out here had started growing, but I came too early.”

Their hands together, Neith looked up at her. “And what about you, Odalis Amaranthe, she who goes out alone without a weapon? Hmm?”

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Lin
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