witchbane
#1
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This occurs on the night of May 12th but carries over into the 13th.


By the time it was dark, she realized that running off on her own was perhaps not the smartest thing to do. Of course, she had not been very smart running in the first place—she was now miles away from any sort of civilization and hopelessly lost. Every step meant another burr or twig got stuck in her hair, and every step brought her further and further into the woods. Rowan was tired and hungry and wanted nothing more than to sleep in a bed.

For the past several days she had been sleeping in carts, but it was uneasy. She had trusted the couple that had taken her at first, but the last few rides were with shifty-eyed men. They had told her they knew of places to go, and initially, she had trusted them. The last one had gotten too friendly and unwilling to trade her body, she had been left with no guide and no clue as to where she was.

This was what led her to stumbling around in the dark. She was capable of seeing, of course, but she was not used to such woodland. It was a deeper darkness than the cities. Even though Freetown had been small compared to Europe, it had beds at least. A smarter wolf might have taken to four legs, but Rowan was stubborn and refused to do so. She had no way to carry the dress that was quickly turning into a rag. This was only furthered when she slipped in soft ground and fell into a heap in a pile of mud. Cold, dirty, and now terribly upset, the girl began to cry.


Larkspur D'Angelo

It was the sheep that first alerted him to the stranger. Larkspur had been finishing up with them, having gauged which were carrying young and which were not. They started bleating from a distance long before he was done, when it was still twilight, and by nightfall they had all fled south. His horse was uneasy in the dark, but the moon was nearly full and provided more than enough light on the clear night. The wolf mounted with practiced ease and headed towards the disturbance.

What he found surprised him. A thin woman with a mass of thick hair was half-seated in the swampy land, crying. Despite his gruff exterior around so many, he had been taught how to take pity on those who needed such things. Not wishing to frighten her further, the wolf dismounted and approached slowly. “Y’all right?” He called out.



The jingle of metal had broken her crying fit, and when she had looked up from the remains of her once pretty dress she gasped. A man taller and broader than most she had seen was on a golden horse. He was imposing, dark and light, and when he approached she tensed up like a deer. Ringlets of curly-wavy hair tumbled around her face. She was terrified, and not simply because of his size.

She didn’t understand what he was saying. Keeping still, she finally found her voice. Je ne comprends pas. Parlez-vous français? Very few people had, like the fur-trader who had taken her this far before he decided he wanted more than her now-traded jewelry.


Larkspur D'Angelo

The moonlight changed and with it he realized something; she had red fur. This changed his stance on the situation with a sudden and terrible need. Larkspur was a man that desired that color, for he had not seen it in many. She hid it under the dirty rag she wore, but when she moved oh there it was. His pupils widened, seeking to suck the color in. They also began to work the spell he used on the sheep, even as her melodic and softly-sweet voice came across the bog.

He did not recognize the language and frowned. She obviously didn’t understand English, and he was incapable of identifying what it was she currently spoke. Ich kann Sie nicht verstehen. he said, the German flowing with ease like English never could.



Rowan considered, for a moment, taking her chances and fleeing back the way she had come. Yet as she watched this brutish looking man, she found herself drawn to his fire-colored eyes. That was when she was snared. The trick was one she was oblivious to, and he captured her in an instance. Wide-eyed, she found herself trapped by deep holes surrounded by hellish fire, but found suddenly the fear was gone.

His voice, deep and masculine and welcomed, sounded like music to a girl who had been trapped too long in a world of foreigners. Ja! Oh danke, ich habe es nicht gelungen, mit niemandem sprechen. Mein Name ist Rowan, ich bin schrecklich verloren. She tried to climb to her feet, and found his strong hands helping her up. Touch, while it had been horrible before, was now welcomed after the hellish journey here. Wo sind wir?



Larkspur D'Angelo

She was feather-light, though the bog and mud wore her down. Larkspur frowned at her appearance, generally displeased by the filth. Since leaving the Khalif, he had come to see cleanliness as a sign of one’s reign over themselves. Having the time to take care of such a thing now, he no longer looked ragged and worn. He intended to change this quickly with her.

Rowan. It was a type of tree, this he knew, but beyond that the word meant little to him. He nodded, leading her towards his horse.Mein Name ist Larkspur. Du bist in Salsola. He hoisted her up gingerly, pleased to see she had some sense and gripped onto the saddle horn tightly. Was können Sie tun? Wir erlauben keine Fremden, hier zu bleiben ohne Ursache.


Cold, filthy and miserable, Rowan accepted both his help and the ride without thought. She could not break the spell of his eyes, and followed his face with every movement. When the question came to her skills, she put her ears back and dropped her head. Now came the same, for even though she was free, she did not recognize such a thing. Ich bin ein Diener. Das ist alles was ich weiß.



Larkspur D'Angelo

A servant. Someone like Axi, who did whatever Eris told her. They really had no further need for such a person, but Larkspur wanted power over her. It was a sick and sudden desire but one he could not help. He had no power in the Khalif, and no power in either of his former packs. Even here, he had little power. Now an opportunity presented itself and he took it. Dann wirst du mein Knecht allein zu sein. Ich werde Sie ernähren und ermöglichen es Ihnen, zu bleiben, aber Sie müssen tun, was ich sage.



This man, as he spoke, revealed a great deal to Rowan. He held power in these lands, for he would allow her in. He further offered to feed her and give her shelter without any barter or anything more beyond serving him as she once had. There was no talk of sex or anything else of that nature, and he had not touched her save to help her when she needed it. Thankful, she nodded and sunk into a half-sleep as he led the horse further into the lands that would now be her home.


OOC Ending

Larkspur takes Rowan back into Salsola. He has Axi, with Salvia translating, clean up the woman. Once she is presentable and fed, he introduces her to Eris (who was out doing who knows what) who makes this face :| and is generally not pleased to see another woman in her home. Larkspur explains that she is his slave and will assist Axi in caring for their home and children as their duties demand them elsewhere. This is so a subtle jab at Eris being out late, so she makes a >:| face but agrees that Rowan may stay. At some point in the morning they take her to Tlanti, who gives the girl her facial piercing.

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