I peed on Alaine yesterday. ^_^

Ykesha of Lynn · 01-08-2011, 05:16 PM

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I'm so sorry about the wait! Been working so much lately then when I get home I just want to curl up with a beer and go to sleep. -_-; Word count 1224 - 10 points

Ykesha’s thoughts limped through her mind on spoiled legs. Their toil was obvious; these ideas were heavily burdened by frustration and lethargy. The woman’s mind had become so congested and bothered that the concepts which filtered beneath her eyes no longer held meaning. They were simply metaphor. Despite this, the woman’s pupiless eyes grew large and intense from the vivid displays her thoughts presented to her. Her conscience was labored by a large steamship embedded on a sandbar. In her head, the fae saw this ship with the clarity of one seeing his own hands. She did not doubt its existence, nor did the strangeness of the sharp metal structure amongst an urban setting disturb her. Ykesha wasn’t aware of the incongruity of a sea vessel’s presence on the streets of a city - say, Halifax? - but so firm was her belief that she’d witnessed such an occurrence that the oddity of the matter was not questioned. Within her mind, there was a large ship parked upon the sand, surrounded by a city dripping with decay. Outwardly, the woman smiled, her teeth showing like barren bones stripped pure white by years beneath a desert wind. She didn’t laugh, although her tongue rolled jealously across her teeth. What entertainment these images were! The hybrid became unaware of the disguises her thoughts wore, her attention instead solely focused on the obscure imagery she had encountered. Her internal grin widened.

Each thought and concept became a masked soldier tasked with dragging this vessel through the city streets, scraping large tracks in the pavement as the boat’s keel carved out its mark on the asphalt. The sound was horrible. Unnaturally high scrapings of unnerve echoed past the she-coyote’s mind. The men assigned to pull this burden were overwhelmed. There was no other word for their effort. Their backs were carved entirely of muscle, though not in an attractive way--they seemed to sweat toil. Each lad looked as though he was made of clay. Their unnatural shambles were made more erotic by the occasional moan that drove a sign of weariness from open mouths. Ykesha didn’t pity them. Their struggles were her own--the boat harbored within her own mind, after all. It was with emotionless boredom, then, that the lass watched the men charged with dragging a ship through unmanageable lands. She half grinned at them, half winced. In response, a well practiced chant met the fae’s brindled ears.

Come in my boat.

Each lad tugged vengefully on the rope which tied him to his plow. He, the ox, dug his heels into the soil to upturn the fallow earth. How stiff the ground had become in just one winter!

Come in my boat. I’m desperate for a crew.

Ykesha blinked in awkward surprise as the keel of the ship inched further into the urban maze it had been set within. The groan of the metal bending under the weight of the stern and the tork of the men pulling it sounded distant and horrible, much like a foghorn on an otherwise still night. Ykesha’s large ears flicked back in concern, her eyes completely entranced by the scene before her. How strange a field of vision her mind had procured for her. As the boat continued to slide like a hammer over a concrete wall the woman recoiled slightly, clutching her hands to her chest as her jaw tightened. The groan of distorted metal called out an unbalanced cry, and the lady’s heart thudded with unnerve inside her breast. She’d never expected these slaves of her subconscious to gain such footing. Ykesha had the mind to turn from their plight and flee further into the city, abandoning them as Olympus had Atlas. Her mind still unmade, the fae stood tense, watching the heavy boat inch closer as the masked soldiers tugged with fervor on the ends of their ropes.

Come in my boat.

The best seaman,

Was I.

Ykesha’s teeth clenched at the sight of their impending progress, her bright eyes becoming slits at the fearlessness of these tired men. The fae took a step back, her hands still cupping her ribs as a mother does an infant. As the boat continued to crawl forward at an unnoticeable pace, Ykesha felt her thoughts morphing into violence. Inwardly, she seethed, although she no longer remembered what had caused this original rage. Outwardly, the woman’s hand upon the tree trunk was tense and biting. Her nails had already plunged into the tree’s flesh and now they tightened. Her teeth were clamped together, eyes lost within her inward vision. It was in this confused and riled state that the smaller luperci approached, her obvious haste caused by the iron and berry smells emitted from her hair. It took force for Ykesha to pull herself from her mind and she blinked with startle upon seeing the world again, not her vision. For a brief moment the fae stared at the one whose movement had wakened her from her thoughts, her eyes combing over the white fur, the obsidian patches, and the dyed locks. Ykesha was taken aback by how small the girl was--she was even more delicate than herself--and the bright alabaster of her coat was a joy amongst so much grey and red, the signature of the rest of Inferni. Still, the white lass was unnerved at this sudden interruption to her brooding, and her face wrinkled in frustration. In this state of flux, Ykesha was unsure of whether to lash out at the female who’d come across her or to compose herself for a formal greeting. Fortunately, she didn’t have to decide.

The bacteria constantly breeding within Ykesha’s lungs churned and the fae’s eyes grew wide with sudden pain as a result. The hand which had embedded itself within the tree flew to her breast, clutching a handful of the white fur which guarded her bosom. Her mouth opened, tongue pressed firmly against her lower jaw as if to omit a cry which wouldn’t surface. Her chest wheezed, the fluid churning within it clearly audible through the stillness of the winter day. As Ykesha’s mind whirled in confused ache the woman’s white eyes darted to the luperci who’d just approached her. All disapproval had fled her expression. Her face pleaded now. The woman’s mouth was still open, allowing the rasp which rolled within her lungs to announce its presence as an opera singer does with a baritone chord. The fae’s body began to convulse slightly, her hand tightening open her chest as it did so. She was repressing the urge to cough--this was clear. And all the while her eyes never left the skinny woman who’d passed her by only wishing to rinse free her hair.

Please, her face pleaded.

And with that the white luperci collapsed to her knees beside the dying oak, one hand still firmly collecting her ribs while the other covered her mouth as the cough she’d tried to stifle rippled through her body. The sound was violent. Ykesha’s eyes squeezed closed with the exertion her lungs were producing. As the fits became more aggressive, blood squeezed between the fae’s fingers and rolled down her white arm to drip silently from her elbow.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a clay-like man tugged sharply on the end of a rope.

The best seaman,

Was I.

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