Break Me Down

Yi TaeKyung · 12-01-2011, 01:07 PM

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Would back dating it to the 16th perhaps make sense? Let me know if I need to change anything. I have TK near Sal and Pan’s cabin, and, if it’s cool, I wrote that Sal tied her up, just because it seemed to make sense to not have her run off.... I left the description of being tied up open so that you could elaborate on it. But if Salvia would have done otherwise, PM me and I’ll change it up ^w^~
WC: 808

The tenebrous female had been bound and enslaved. Slowly, she began to understand that her life no longer belonged to her. Before, it was easy to imagine that she could simply defend herself, to kill and be free once more. But life was never so simple. As a wolf without family, without a pack, and without a country, she had wandered the these pack inhabited lands. She had been careful to avoid the pack wolves, but she had known that it would be inevitable that she encounter them; it was only the manner of the encounter that the foreigner had been unable to predict. And within the pack called Salsola, the enslaved wolf could not easily kill without the institution of the pack coming after her. She was but one wolf, and it was not in her nature to run. In a way, this slavery was her only choice of survival. And compelled always by the need to survive (as well as to fight), the black fae was able to accept her enslavement.

That was not to say, however, that the martial artist had given immediate obedience. To the contrary, the pride-filled fighter was not accustomed to accepting orders. Her position as a slave placed her in a place of pure subordination, but she refused to be the victim. Her master—whom she soon learned bore the name ‘Slavia’—did not allow the foreign female to go without penalty. In response to her wordless and vehement snarls, food was cut short. Already, the Korean wolf’s diet had been minimal to allow for muscle growth while maintaining a lean, fast body. With the additional cut on meals, the warrior could feel herself growing thinner, losing muscle mass. And with inactivity, her body turned to her muscles to nourish itself. While the black wolf valued freedom, she valued her fighting prowess to a much greater extent. Although she continued to resist full acceptance of her enslavement, as each day passed, her pugnacious behaviour grew quieter. The white, fathomless orbs would watch Salvia with both resentment and resignation.

By the time several days had passed, the Taekwondo artist had been forced to accept the gold-ringed septum piercing. Traditionally she carried nothing with her, and her body bore only minor marks from past battles. Only her shoulders had been given any distinguishing features—a brand of emptiness upon her left, and a cutting of martial upon her right. She did not like the colour gold, nor did she appreciate the metallic addition to her body. Upon refusal, both Salvia and the black-coated brother had bound and pinned her so that another pack wolf could complete the enslaving ceremonies. No tears or cries of pain were shed as the golden ring was inserted and her freedom irrevocably taken. Only barred teeth and a black, silent hatred were relinquished.

And now she was to receive proper instruction in the discourse of Salsolan slavery. Upon hearing the news, the Korean could only sneer. Hungry and itching to fight, she found also that she was still weakened. The lunar orbs had found the green eyes, a challenge still lingering there. “빨리 가자,” the alto mutter sounded with a sigh. She rose, her hands still bound, and allowed Salvia to lead her. The pale eyes of the black-pelted brother seemed to watch her carefully. He was definitely a threat to the Korean, who was much smaller in stature. Perhaps in prime condition she would be able to hold her own, but in this state, she was reduced to nothing. Now, she was nothing but that golden ring.

Outside, the sunlight blinded her. It forced her to turn away and her gaze to the ground. She squinted, her eyes watering slightly against the sensitivity. Night-trained eyes would soon vanish as well, so as long as she was made to be active in daylight hours. Salvia tied her off and left, leaving the Korean in a vulnerable state. In that moment without sight, the obsidian female could do nothing. Slowly, as her eyes were able to at least open and see the light-enhanced world, she could see that she was not alone. Eventually, the fighter straightened her posture, her lean form still bearing much sinew. The Korean was proud still, and did not offer submissive posture. Lunar orbs drank in the other’s appearance. The stranger was a large female. All wolves were fighters, the martial artist new, but it was a matter of whether proper training was done, especially in the less natural, anthropomorphic shape. “Who are you?” A flick of her strong maw in the stranger’s direction was made, as if this whole situation were nothing to her. No smile or snarl was offered to the pack wolf, but the lunar orbs did not become averted. It was obvious that there would be much for TaeKyung to learn.

Siv Helsi · 12-01-2011, 08:19 PM

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(318)

This peculiar place she now called home had opened doors Siv had not expected. There were subtleties and undercurrents in the ocean here, dictated by law and by status. No one could stand against the tide of their King, whom she had not yet met. Whispers of him lingered, and like a cloud over the sun, he flickered in and out of areas. Always moving, always doing. Siv was a wise enough woman to recognize that there was danger here. It existed in every step; she sensed it in the eyes of the Family, and saw their trepidation for what it truly was. Yet she had not gone out of her way to remain hidden. Siv was a woman with goals and desires in her head; she would make herself a place here even if it needed to be carved out.

So she had listened, as wise women do, and found gaps within roles. While the peculiar little man known as Bastion often attended to the slaves, he did not take care of them. While Siv dared not claim she knew all of the rules and regulations of the duty, she had watched. In truth, these slaves were no different than the men of the Hearg. Breaking them would be easier, though, for they were little more than objects here. It would be like training a horse, she reasoned, and thus offered her service to Salvia after hearing of the newest…acquisition.

The woman was muscular and obviously strong of will, which Siv lamented at (if only for a moment). She was, however, property. Falcon purple eyes were met by two flickering moonstones, and the witch smiled. “I am here to teach you,” she explained, her voice strong despite its low tone. “For your sake, you would do well to heed me. It would be a shame for you to be ruined,” Siv added, thinking of the crippled man.

Yi TaeKyung · 12-02-2011, 05:33 PM

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WC: 545

The black fae attempted to bring her bound hands up to shield the sun from her eyes. Squinting through dark lashes, she watched the stranger with a calculating gaze. The martial artist assessed the threat and potential danger. The female was large and broad—strong. But was she trained? Again, the martial artist could not know. And in her hungered and healing state, the Korean was resigned to simply comply with the pack wolves. They showed her no kindness, and they were not her family. It was made increasingly clear. While Salvia had indeed saved her from the sea, if she would not be permitted to train and fight, the warrior would have preferred to die and never fight again than to live and be restrained from the fight. And yet, because of her upbringing, she did feel that she owed Salvia something—not so great as this bondage, but something. In this way, her soul was trapped. It was a deeply frustrating matter.

At length, the enslaved woman rubbed her eyes and lowered her hands, able now to see in the sunlight. The strong voice was taken in by the dark, horned auricles. They twitched, sensing the threat that lay behind the seemingly amiable tone. Ruin. She had learned the word along the way—usually in reference to the collapsed and decayed concrete jungles. Yet it seemed to be directed at herself. An emotion tugged at the corners of her dark lips—bitterness? The black tail flickered behind her, almost thoughtfully. The lunar gaze flickered, but the slave was still. “I listen you.” the alto song came at length, burdened only by her Korean tongue. Her tone was nearly unreadable, yet it was clear that something lurked at the edges of her voice. The way she spoke, however, made it seem as if she had a choice in the matter; the foreigner knew that this was not true, but openly she was still unwilling to show acceptance of this fate. Her enslavement continued to tear at her mind. She needed an outlet, but ensnared by her binds and by the laws of the pack—by the boarder of the pack itself—there was nothing for her. It seemed an empty fate.

“What teach me?” Her posture straightened as if she prepared to toil over some task. She assumed, however, that most would be verbal instruction, the slave was not too worried. Although her Western tongue was still broken, she had picked up a much greater understanding of the language. The black fae held up her hands. “I am fighter.” An explanation. “태권도.” She doubted that this pack wolf cared. But it martial arts and taekwondo was all that the Korean new. She did not understand how she could be of use to the pack. Soon, when she was healed, would she not be a threat to it? But all at once the slave knew that she would not yet rebel. Again, her debt to Salvia was a strange thing. It was something that the shattered mind struggled to comprehend. It was as if, in some areas, she could not gather her thoughts, that she did not control herself. In the black corridors of her mind, His laughter clawed, echoing in the dead spaces there.

Siv Helsi · 12-05-2011, 01:40 AM

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It was curious to Siv that a woman like this had been captured. Salvia was a strong girl no doubt, but her savagery surprised the older woman yet. The drying scabs on the girl’s body spoke of combat, though she was not scarred yet. This, in some way, pleased Siv. To know that they were well protected and that her own daughter might one day become strong and capable in battle. While she herself was untrained, Siv knew how to throw her weight around. She doubted she could handle someone like this on her own, and was truly impressed that she had been taken.

The dark woman smiled slightly, though there was little warmth in her. Survival, and not sympathy, was what drove her. “You’ve seen the man without the tongue?” She stuck her own out, to further explain, and drew one claw across it. This was how she had begun teaching her own daughter how to speak, and believed it would work with this woman’s poor grasp of the language. “He did not listen. You listen and you’ll be safe.” Simple. She would be simple because there was no other way.

“I will teach you how to behave. You are a slave now, and not a free woman. Salvia is your master, but you are below all others here.” Her hands moved in slow, graceful motions as she spoke. One dropped below the other, showing the physical change in rank. “She may let you fight for her in time. But you must learn how to behave, first.”

Yi TaeKyung · 12-05-2011, 11:36 PM

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WC: 550

The dark fists were lowered as the cool smile and harsh words were given. The question was not one that she was meant to answer, but the Korean did not understand such discrete social conventions yet. A black aud flickered backward as the stranger’s tongue was stuck out. It seemed almost disrespectful and mocking, and the dark fae didn’t know how to respond to it. Her head cocked slightly. “No—I not see him,” the alto tones responded, the cool tones almost perplexed. But she understood the meaning of the gesticulation—the cutting of the tongue. The white orbs shifted from the tongue to the stranger’s face. She would not allow her tongue to be taken. A quiet growl rumbled in her throat, her strong maw distorting ever so slightly with her will to fight. The woman continued, explaining that her tongue would not be cut if she listened. This confused the simple fae. “I listening.” A curt nod was given twice, as if to emphasize her point. The Korean fae thought that the teacher was speaking with the present time in mind, not the long run. But the black fae remained silent.

The next few sentences were also received by silence. The dark fae was motionless, almost lithic save for the soft, rhythmic movement of her chest and belly as she breathed. It was heavier than her normal resting heart rate, as if this degrading talk greatly offended her and she would attack—bound or not—at any moment. Indeed, those dark jaws twitched and itched to sate the sanguine hunger that was growing so belligerently. Yes, she was a slave—the golden ring at her septum, the ring she had been forced to accept, spoke of it. But the pugnacious female was not so willing to accept her slavery yet. It was all very frustrating. The ropes that bound her frustrated her. The language that was not her native one frustrated her. And this predicament she found herself in, having left her homeland to be free of the stigma of her mixed birth was frustrating. The lack of control that now existed within that shattered mind was swiftly losing hold. The tail flickered dangerously behind her like a vehement snake. She may have been starving and greatly weakened still, but the martial artist, whose soul was not calm but tormented—would choose violence.

But the stranger spoke her last words just in time. The rage was quieted for a moment if only to better hear the words. The black, horn-like auricles pressed forward. There was a small promise of hope. A paled, pink tongue licked her parched lips and tested her strong, white fangs before disappearing into those hungering jaws. “I fight.” The words were a sentence, almost a demand—or a promise perhaps. Indeed, she would either fight with Salvia’s permission, or she would fight and die. “태권도,” she repeated. That was all that mattered to the shattered mind. “I listen. I behave.” The last word was repeated with minor struggle—a knew word in her mouth but not within her ears. There was a slight pause. “I listen, I am eating?” Salvia had been smart to give only enough for basic sustenance, but it would be taxing upon the martial artist’s body in the long run.

Siv Helsi · 12-08-2011, 02:00 AM

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In her world, there was respect for warriors. This idea clashed with what she saw this woman as, this slave, but there had been stranger things. Men shamed by defeat, who would not take a warrior’s death, they were like slaves. It was better to die in battle than as an old man, as a cow in sleep. Siv had carried this ideal even though she had lost her faith in Odin All-Father and his children. Thus she respected, but did not, the woman before her. A fallen warrior was still a warrior. Besides, she had been taken forcefully and without easy surrender—Salvia’s wounds attested to this.

Peculiar language, she noted, and smiled to show she did not understand. “Yes, you listen, you eat.” As a show of good faith, Siv put one hand forward. “I will take the rope off. Do not touch me, and do not run.” Her voice steeled as she spoke this warning, though there was little need for it. She imagined that this woman was swiftly learning what was expected. If she did either, then the slave would be killed or crippled. There was little doubt in her this woman would die fighting if that was the case, but she hoped it would not come to that. The illusion of freedom would aid her in taming this fighter, or so she believed.

Yi TaeKyung · 12-08-2011, 07:53 PM

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Meant to get this up earlier, but my muse was on break. She came back for a little though. OuO
WC: 521

The black nodded once. If listening—complying with their wishes, and the wishes of Salvia—meant both that she could fight once more and that she could eat and gain sustenance, then she was satisfied. Yet, suspicion was present as well. Did this dark-furred teacher-of-slaves speak truthfully, or with deception? The wolf’s mind was still aware of her status as a slave, and again she remembered the manner of her enslavement. To her, there had been no true reason for it. Indeed, she had been weakened by that mind shattering blow, as well as from the aggression of the sea. But why had the end of her weakness been slavery and not death? She wondered again, with suspicion, whether He had had a hand in this fate. For the dark female was not without pride, and her status as slave was most definitely insulting and degrading. But all at once that broken mind could no longer retain such concept. Once conceived, they left her mind, a simple, passing thought. And she remembered again that she would be able to fight again and to eat well again if only she was compliant. The Korean nodded inwardly at herself. It made sense to her.

The white orbs had narrowed with the thoughts of suspicion moving through her mind. But as the teacher-of-slaves extended her hand, the enslaved female had no choice but to accept the words as truth, for now. The black maw leaned forth instinctually, sniffing at the hand as if expecting something to be there. There was nothing solid, nothing apparent. But the idea was there. White orbs shifted back toward the violet eyes as words were spoken again. There was a warning there that made the warrior pause. Slowly, the Korean withdrew her maw, her movements deliberate. At first she said nothing—perhaps she had not understood. But at length, the slave offered a nod and an uttered, “Okay,” before extending slightly her hands. “No run. No touch.” Her body was tense as if she did not trust the purple-eyed woman—and rightfully so. But she did not move to touch or attack. Her maw twitched, always ready to attack should the gesture be in poor humor, but still she was unmoving. “You me trust?” An imperceptible wry smile seemed to linger briefly on those black lips. White orbs watched the other carefully. This may have been her new home, her new pack, but they were not to be trusted yet. Indeed, they had not killed her, but the threat was always renewed.

And the warrior did not fully understand why she did not attack either. Was it not better to die than to live as a slave? But no—there was always Taekwondo. The broken mind continued on the looped thought. Taekwondo. Taekwondo. It was all it could think about now. The young woman seemed to forget other aspects of life. Love, friendship, relaxation, socializing.... These were long lost in the sea. And with no one to extend such warmth to a slave, the one-track mind remained on its one track. With no reminders, she was left to forget.

Siv Helsi · 12-10-2011, 03:59 AM

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I meant to get to this sooner. <3

She was somewhat like a child, and Siv recognized this quickly. It was not her mentality, as it was with the man-child, but with her lack of experience in such culture. This perhaps explained why Salvia had been able to take her. Someone who had understood the implications and weight of such things would not have tempted their borders. How exactly Salvia had captured this woman still remained a mystery, but Siv’s duty was not to pry. It was not teach.

The slave smiled to show her trust was a lie. Siv smiled to show she knew it. One sharp claw worked and with another to aid it, cut the ropes swiftly. They were tight enough to not be undone elsewise. Siv’s show of trust was a false one—she knew that she was safe, and that this woman could not take her here. If anything, she might attack her and flee. Siv would not die. Of course, it would shame her if such a thing occurred, and so she worked fast to prevent such a thing.

“Tell me your name,” she said, tall form towering over the muscular body of the wolfdog. With her name, the training would begin.

Yi TaeKyung · 12-16-2011, 05:19 PM

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Sorry for the wait! A combo of finals and the holiday season >n<~!
WC: 539

The frail trust that existed between the two women threatened to shatter—and yet it held. Both women knew that the time and place for violence had not come. Regardless of that fact, peace did not reign within her mind. It grew even more turbulent, her magnified, belligerent nature fighting to break loose of the already weakened barriers. But the Taekwondo artist was not completely broken. The remnants of that shattered mind still lingered, simply unable to heal themselves. The tenebrous female took a deep breath to calm to torrent within her, but she refrained from any other extra gestures so as to not alert her enemy—the teacher-of-slaves. For that was what she was, correct? These wolves did not give her friendship. They were her enemy. And yet, it was a strange relationship, she found, that was forming between the Salsolan pack wolves and herself. It was difficult to explain, and her mind was not interested in explaining it.

As the bounds were cut, tension formed in her arms. The pack wolf’s claws were dangerously close to a vital place—she could be cut and bleeding—dying again. And yet, it seemed as if labor was more important than death to this pack. The bounds were cut, and she was not killed. Circulation flowed more freely into her hands. She felt a sudden warmth before it dissipated, and then a discomfort. As her limbs remembered what it was like to be relieved of their bounds, the sensation was altogether overwhelming. Dark hands moved slowly—no sudden movements in this engagement. The Korean rubbed her wrists, aiding in the dissipation of any sensation of discomfort. She admitted, if only to herself, that she felt much at ease—relatively speaking—now that her hands were free. Lunar orbs looked down briefly at them, noting their restlessness. For a moment, it was almost as if she considered attack as an option. But then her hands were lowered passively at her side. Not today.

As the teacher-of-slaves moved back, towering above the shorter Korean, the lunar orbs followed the form as if mildly curious. Yet that calculating gaze seemed to always be aware of the danger and threat against her that lurked within all wolves of this pack. While the frustration of her enslavement lingered within her heart, the promise of fighting motivated her silence and stillness. The dark female remained unmoving, and she fought to hold the violence in. The young woman, as if resigned, swallowed, but her parched mouth found it difficult to do so. The dark lips were tugged by the mirthless smile, but her face grew still. As the words moved through the air, the black auricles drank them in. “My name is 이태경.” The alto voice grew silent for a moment. “TaeKyung,” she repeated, a little slower this time so that the Westerner might better understand. A hand came up to pat her chest twice, indicating to herself. She felt, however, that her name meant nothing in this place. She wondered, even, why they would wish to know. Perhaps for convention. Perhaps to steal it. The martial artist grew suspicious, but it was too late. She was already too deeply drawn in to fully escape this fate.

Siv Helsi · 01-03-2012, 09:20 PM

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(288)

The final moment of doubt came and passed. Siv did not feel claws at her face or teeth at her throat, and the tension slipped from her body in waves. She was not afraid to fight, but she recognized strength even when it was muted and dulled from abuse. Salvia had not damaged the woman, no, but she was clearly malnourished and healing from some sort of combat. Discipline would bring radical rebirth, Siv decided, and she smiled at the thought. Perhaps by aiding the daughter of the Auxiliary her own talents would be seen—and broad and terrible they were.

Again that throaty and foreign voice cut through the air. How many battles had she seen, the witch wondered, and dismissed the thought. Hundreds. Thousands. Those chosen for such destines would fight until they fell, and if so worthy, would fight on into the halls of their fathers. Siv was not a warrior, but she would find her place in the afterlife none the less. As a witch, it was predestined. What she did now, in this life, was the test of how far she ascended and whose face she would see upon crossing the Rainbow Bridge.

“TaeKyung,” Siv repeated, though it was not as graceful from her mouth. She struggled with the pronunciation, turning it sharper as was common for more familiar names. “What does that mean?” The question came, deciding that there had to be power behind such a thing. Her own was not a strong name by definition, but she had accepted that it was valuable none the less. Brides came from free-people and with high prices on their heads. Father knew she was certainly a most wealthy woman in her talents, after all.

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