the fallen princess

Talitha de le Poer · 04-22-2011, 07:23 PM

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Talitha's dreamworld; Mel can join if Mel would like to, since we talked about doing one with Ahren. Not marked Mature, since I see no mature content, but can be changed if necessary.

mall-caps;text-varientmall-caps;">IT'S ONLY cript;">FOREVER, NOT LONG AT ALL

Panic fluttered through the chest of the woman as she tore through the forest, slim body weaving about dark trunks. When in situations of fight or flight, Talitha de le Poer found it safer to flee, at least when it came to the dark face of her uncle. Andrezej had been lost in the shadows, yet she did not feel safe. Somehow, she knew he was still there. Her body froze, legs tensed for a sprint were her demons to catch up to her. Crimson eyes, full of fear and dismay, surveyed her world — what a strange place for her to run through. The trees seemed to sway in the shadows, branches turning to grabby hands and marks on the bark crafting faces in the darkness. They called to her, pleading for the princess to return to them, to the earth she stood upon, but she tried not to listen. Why was there never any damn sunlight? Why did she always suffer in the dark? Her hands went to her ears, trying to keep out the voices of the trees. Oh, Talitha, calm down! We aren't here to hurt you. A lie, of course, she knew that much. They hid devils in their canopies and shadowed her enemies amongst their roots.

Motion from the darkness caught her wary eyes and she turned in hopes to see a familiar face. Instead, nothing. Black, dark, cold, empty nothing. And where was the demon who had chased her so far? One step to the rear, and she found her answer. Slim coyote body met the dark fur of Satan personified, breath catching as heavy hands wound themselves about bony hips. She trembled beneath his embrace, unable to speak or run — why had she never tried to defend herself? What a good girl. Her ears flattened against her curls as the demon uncle wound locks of auburn about a finger. Disgust rolled through her body, yet she did not pull away. How could she? She was weak, that was clear, as Hybrid and Halo had pointed out her failures so easily. Perhaps she deserved the end that came with remaining in the arms of the dead.

Alarmed at her own thoughts, she made rash decisions, throwing her head back in the attempt to loosen his grip on her; the back side of her skull crashed into a snout and his hold on his slippery niece was removed to tend to his wounded pride. Talitha took the chance to continue her path from the dark shadows of the forest, hurtling twisted roots that sprung up before her feet. And there, beyond the tangled branches, there was light! Something new fluttered amongst her fear, hope she had never experienced. Had she truly made it through the wilderness? Were her days of sorrow finished?

In the excitement that her world would be made better, she did not realize the forest's new trick, and her foot found itself wound inside of thick taproots. Down she went, even as fragile hands sought to release the grasp of the damnable trees that held her. She could hear him as he approached, she could hear the heavy steps and the panting breath as the hunter found his prey. Andrezej fell upon his niece with all the fervor of a lion as it came upon a wounded antelope, hands grappling for control of a body that was not his. A panicked scream shattered the otherwise silent air, and the trees froze, watching the crime they had helped create, as warm blood soaked into the barren earth.

Ahren de le Poer · 04-23-2011, 11:36 AM

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Once, the shadows had belonged to another madman—one with a Cheshire grin of knife-like teeth and bleeding eyes. In this place he was not, but this meant little. A dragon of addiction and of heredity existed within the wolf, and the wolf recognized this and found the power his own. Each dream, each nightmare, they always changed. Some nights he was with his dead once-lover, speaking of the end of the world. Other nights he was with Misery, speaking of the thing they had created and how easily it had been destroyed. Ahren was no fool; the world was cruel and everything, eventually, burned.

He moved with an unnatural grace for a half-blind man, sensing the world because he had always been capable of this. The Sight had never left him, but even he did not fully understand it. In some dreams he spoke with Mab, and she told him the truth. His odd sister-cousin had always been a witch, but one who did not waste her time on tricks. Even Ahren feared her. Mab’s bombardier blue eyes were cruel and terrible, just as his son’s had been on that final night.

It was no stranger he found, but the granddaughter he had never met. Gabriel had told him he could, yes, but the wrecking of the days had come with such fury in those final apocalyptic hours. The blonde wolf did not hesitate, though, because the situation could have been his own; and Ahren had always hated himself for taking Aiji (though even now he wondered if she had wanted him to do so). One motion loaded the crossbow, and one shot destroyed the shadowy figure into the depths of whatever hell he had come from.

Silently, for his feet did not make sound in this place, the wolf approached. “You can’t run from demons, kid,” he offered her cooly, his voice rough from years of smoke.

Talitha de le Poer · 04-23-2011, 12:06 PM

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mall-caps;text-varientmall-caps;">IT'S ONLY cript;">FOREVER, NOT LONG AT ALL

She twisted underneath a fuller form in attempts to save herself whatever pain could come in the future, yet all her trying was futile. Even she, stubborn as she was, knew when the end was near. As she waited for the dark monster to finalize the destiny he had attempted to start in life, she saw the faces of many memories past. Crimson eyes closed. The blow never came. Instead, the unfamiliar twang of a complex weapon destroyed her ghost, sending the Devil to shadowed smoke that invaded her lungs and disappeared on the phantasmal wind. Suddenly she could breath again. Her limbs were free. And she was still alive. The scrawny woman turned, chest heaving as she tried to rid herself of nausea.

Even as the rough voice of a stranger caught her attention, she gazed at the ground. The earth was black. Golden stars sprung up beneath her hands, glistening amongst the rest of the shadows. She was confused. Where had the end disappeared to? Where had her demons gone, and what was this man in their place? Questions went unanswered in the darkness of her mind, and she didn't expect these would be any different.

"If I don't, I'll never be like my father or brother." All her paths led to that, to be like Gabriel and Ezekiel. Strong. As it stood, she was a mess. Little did she know it was acceptable. Her father hid is own illness so well, and she knew nothing of the generations before him. Autumn fur gathered itself and managed to stand, unstable on two feet as her mother's crimson eyes sought the face of what had been her saviour.

It wasn't the blonde coat that startled her, but the red eyes she found in his face. Red like her own, but at the same time so different. It wasn't strange for her to see red eyes, not in her cousins, but this was not a hybrid creature of Inferni that stood before her. This saving grace of her nightmare was a wolf, a fact that — even in her dreams — held the worst connotations. She stepped backwards. "And am I to assume you're just the same? What demon are you to invade my thoughts?"

Ahren de le Poer · 04-24-2011, 02:05 PM

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Though once white, his feet had since become the no-color brown of the dust that clung to them. Yet he carried no smell, not of dust, not even of smoke or blood. The air felt strange here. His lips pulled away from his teeth, showing them in the darkness—it was a madman’s grin, so much like Laruku’s (no, the other) and Ahren felt it fade from his face quickly. This was not a familiar forest. Wherever he was, this place would not obey the rules he had established elsewhere.

Behind him, his shadow flickered and changed, but Ahren did not acknowledge it.

“Your Gabriel’s daughter,” he said, slinging the crossbow over his back. Bandaged arms, free, pushed his blonde hair from his face—this proved useless as they tumbled back to frame it, the singular black streak mixing against the light color aggressively. The wolf did not advance to the girl, for she was still wary and he did not wish to awaken the monsters she certainly carried. “I’m his father,” the red-eyed man explained.

Talitha de le Poer · 04-24-2011, 02:18 PM

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mall-caps;text-varientmall-caps;">IT'S ONLY cript;">FOREVER, NOT LONG AT ALL

Her careful, silent study of his features left her wondering just what she had allowed into her dreamscape. Never before had she dealt with another speaking creature. Only ever Andrezej, and the since-forgotten situations in her time away from Inferni where she would think of Ezekiel. But this was a stranger. This scentless stranger was not a being she had met in her lifetime. His smile was unsettling. She wondered internally if it was wise to entertain interaction. Something was clearly wrong.

As his shadow changed, her eyes moved toward it, noting in horror the shape that gazed back. Yes, he must have been a demon. Slower than most would have, her fragile hand rose to mark the sign of a cross before her body — it was a strange gesture she rarely undertook.

But he seemed to know her. He spoke the name of her father, putting away his weapon and trying to push away his hair. It all tumbled back into place as he remained still. He didn't come near. She appreciated it. As the truth tumbled forward, breath caught in her chest. This stranger in her nightmare was the unknown grandfather she had felt connected to. The musician Corona spoke highly of, the man her aunt had wished she could meet. For the briefest moment, she couldn't believe it, but it was clear as she maintained a steady gaze.

"Corona told me about you."

It was strange to admit that. She knew so little apart from his artistic abilities, as his daughter only spoke praise of his skills rather than facts of his person. Was this man, this unknown grandfather, like her missing aunt? Or was he like her father, like her, unwell? The glimpsed smile from before left her believing the latter.

Ahren de le Poer · 04-24-2011, 02:30 PM

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She crossed herself. He almost laughed at the gesture. How many people had done that to him? How many times had every limerick, every verse, been thrown at him? In Europe they had thought of him as nothing but a pathetic wino, stalking the streets at night. He had killed many men simply because they had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Never women, though he come to hate them. Never children. Every child looked like his children, and he could not hurt them—even though he had, in those last days, when the apocalypse came with fire and snow and silence.

His eyes, one red and the other a ghostly blue-white, narrowed at the mention of his favorite child. He thought of her often. Yet the image of her came with the others; with Gabriel as he had been, furious and war-like, and Draco, Mab’s child by all rights. He breathed out into the night and found the air cold. “Did she now?” Quiet, testing. She had seen the worst of him. What had his daughter told this pretty little girl?

Talitha de le Poer · 04-24-2011, 02:50 PM

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mall-caps;text-varientmall-caps;">IT'S ONLY cript;">FOREVER, NOT LONG AT ALL

She wasn't sure what to reveal to this phantom grandfather. Surely, he knew what he was, and surely it wouldn't matter if she said something truly foolish — she could only go upon what Corona had spoken, after all. She never had the chance to meet the man. She had never truly desired to. As his eyes narrowed, she moved, taking herself around the dark trunk of a dead tree to peer at him from a distance. It would do little if he decided to cause harm to his son's daughter.

How long had it been since she spoke to Corona about the blonde de le Poer? Years. Two, perhaps, for she had been young. While she remembered little of her childhood home, she had clung to the words from her aunt, using them to justify the artist's path she'd walked down. Of course, Corona had not told her niece everything. There was so much she would never learn, unless it came from the horses' mouth.

Her head bobbed in the briefest nod while glass eyes gazed upon him in both curiosity and fear. "She told me that you were an artist. A musician, the violin." Though her own skills in music were limited, with the beaten guitar she played so carefully, she felt a closeness to him on this fact alone. "And she told me that you lived with them, in Inferni, until the Aquila made you leave." Perhaps it had not been an Aquila then, but she knew no other name for the leadership. The smaller details, such as Chimera and his own turn a the reigns of leading, were something she did not need to explain. Corona had told her only the pleasant things, painting the elaborate and beautiful image she had used in place of a living grandfather that — despite her desire for it to be so — was so very false.

Clawed fingers tapped against the rough bark of her hiding place. "She told me you were smart...you taught her things, about art and music." Corona had wished her niece could meet the living man, but it simply wasn't meant to be. Whatever path God was sending her down hadn't allowed for a true meeting between them. Only in the phantasmal world of her sleeping mind.

Her voice quieted as her longing to see her aunt grew. "I can tell she really loves you." It was so clear, and mirrored her own love for Gabriel. Firm and undying regardless of the crimes the men committed.

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