Worthless

Shawchert Menue · 01-31-2012, 08:47 PM

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WC: 308
OOC: So you know he is a big guy, in lupus for aaannd everyone knows him by Goliath

It had been many days since Shawchert had woken up and found himself fully chained and now in the pack that had been so quiet. Now things seemed to scream at him, and he wanted to scream back. He hated this place. He just tried to think he was staying strong, but he didn’t feel he was going to get anywhere, and deep down he felt he deserved this, mostly for the death of his son, because the boy, who’s ghostly figure stood by him even now, had been quiet ever since Shawchert left Cercatori. He found himself bored, as he was in lupus and unable to change and he was chained up and still broken, he found little to do. His mind was racing to do something, if he had his hand he could make something, or if he had his flute, oh his flute.... where ever it was it had not joined him here in this hellish place.

He occupied his time by staring out hte window. He couldn’t even lick his wounds for his tongue wasn’t there, he had backtalked the wrong woman and she had taken it as a souvenir. He had not been given a task which was good because, though he was learning, he would still turn a defiant eye. He would be far my subtly at it than he had in the past. He was learning, but many would call him a slow learner. It was hard to forget he had once commanded a pack himself. Or to keep raised hope of being rescued, though who would know he was here? He had told Skye that he was leaving for good. Everyone would know that by now so there was little hope other than that spot where he had been taken, his blood would be hard to wash away.

Lana Realm · 02-02-2012, 09:43 PM

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Let me know if you want anything changed.

The sun bloomed above the horizon and cast radiant fingers between the trees. Lana watched charily from the shadows. She didn’t care to go out during the brighter hours of the day but she had heard from the young healer girl about a new slave in need of care. The woman was curious and had yet to return to the main dwelling of the pack. A light dusting of snow had coated the ground several days prior and remained although the heat of the day was already present.

The village wasn’t far from the cave and she got there quickly in the growing morning. Cas trailed her closely but became as weary as she felt as soon as the large wooden buildings rose on either side of them. She followed the scent of blood since there were no worn trails and could even taste it outside the slave quarters.

The door was heavy and Lana closed it behind her as softly as she could, allowing her burning amber eye to adjust to the dimness. She found the man easily enough and stood watching him for a long moment. He didn’t move, but instead found some sort of sanctuary through the only window. Skeptical glare took him in as if he were behind bars.

Lana approached him slowly. She wasn’t afraid, despite his size even while he lay chained in his birth form. He looked patched up, not that she expected less, but she could see in his own distant gaze he was till broken. There were a few large wounds enthusiastically bleeding so Lana circled him once more. Sharpened nail prodded one of his broken legs in a place where she knew it would not cause much pain. Silence splintered between the two as the woman looked on cynically.

She pulled her bag in front of her and dug through it. Cas found a spot in the shadows and sat, jade irises glowing the satirical light. A jar was pulled from her items and Lana unscrewed the cap. The scent was not dominating but it fled from the glass before she brought the herb to the man’s sores. Skilled fingers traced the outside of the bleeding gashes with a supple touch before bringing the cayenne to the source. It would sting just like the fragrance that permeated from the jar so Lana placed her palm on the man’s ribs. She shifted, moving to a reddened scar on his neck. Only a soft jingle from the beads on her necklace broke the silence.

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Shawchert Menue · 02-06-2012, 05:09 AM

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WC: 361+
OOC: Sorry for the delay, had a bout of more writers block stinky shawwww

He had felt her presence rather than heard it. She was silent in coming in the room and he didn’t move. Whatever she was here for it probably wasn’t good. At least not for him. He had met the other healers and they were not anymore easy on him that he was sure she would be. She circled him, blocking his view of the window for a few seconds, where he showed the only life, but trying to look around her, when she moved away again he put his head back on his paws. He made to move his leg in as she touched it, but it hurt to move it even the half inch he did, and he stifled a whine. His eyes had caught more movement as something fluid moved into the shadows’ but what it was he could not see. It was too dark and after looking out of the window it had seemingly grown darker in the room.

The smell of what was in the jar wafted towards Shawchert and burned his barely healing nose. The intentions of the jar were soon clear as he tried to squirm away in pain as she put pressure on his wounds. He made to bite his tongue so not to whine, but all he got was air and he did his best to keep himself from making such a pitiful sound, though he had already made it once in the woman’s presence. His chest moved up and down revealing his fear, and want to get away from the pain, though it was not as much pain as the setting of his leg took him, nor the resetting after that. THey wanted it broken, but still functional, and Shawchert hated every single being that touched the broken leg, but now everything was starting its healing process, and though he had been here for many days he felt they were trying to keep his wounds from closing at all. He moved his head to see what she was doing, not giving any emotion as to what he thought of her actions already, though he was sure they were aparent already.

Lana Realm · 02-09-2012, 11:16 PM

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No problem! <3

Her mind wandered as she listlessly kneaded the smoldering powder into the man’s cuts. Delicate fingers sparingly traced his ribs as she moved to another wound. She followed his gaze absently out the window which she now noticed was framed with cobwebs and glazed in dust. There wasn’t much behind the brown smudges. A few buildings exposed their roofs and an abundance of green washed out the background. Suddenly, the large man twisted in pain and Lana involuntarily let out a reprimanding snarl of surprise. It was edged with correction, but soft enough not to disturb the silent darkness.

Having disturbed her trail of caresses, Lana capped the jar and placed it back in her bag. She noticed he was turned away from the window, another subtle sign the man was still living. Her back remained turned although amber eyes caught his flicker of movement. She removed a small vile with yellow petals stacked behind the glass. The healer swished her tail in his stare and flashed a smirk over her shoulder. The calendula petals were removed leisurely and pinched between sharpened nails until shredded strips lay in her palm. Lana turned silently and pressed the petals against the man’s bruises. Yellow tinted his fur after a moment of rubbing.

The woman found a new rhythm to work at, her alternative methods soon covered the body of the slave. Her hands found the bruises on his chest and neck and now agile fingers traced his jaw with flower dust. She found his eyes after a moment and doubled back, her mind rearing up like a startled horse. Blue eyes like that hadn’t faced her since … Lana growled deeply and returned her focus on the injuries lining his muzzle for although her head was raging she merely blinked and paused on the outside. Her expression was instantly guarded and stony but other than that her movements remained practiced a skillful.

320+

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Shawchert Menue · 02-14-2012, 06:23 AM

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WC: 244
OOC: Sorry for the delay Smile

The woman who was tending to him was far more commanding than the others, she did not ask permission nor did she care that he could snap at her at any second, but then he knew what would happen if he did, and that was probably what made her so confident. She had growled at him and he stopped immediately, though his breathing was strained, he didn’t want to be hurt any more he wanted the pain to go away, and he was learning the less of a fight he brought up the better he would feel, though he still bore resentment that it was them that had put him in this position. What she did next hurt far less and he remained motionless, yes the bruises hurt, but those were superficial to the pain in his leg and hip.

Her touch was foreign, leaving a dusting of yellow behind as well as a tingle where she had touched him. How long had he been without such a kind touch, and yet, he knew it wasn’t kind to him, it wasn’t really meant for him, she was doing the job she needed. Her eyes caught his, the red color piercing his own blue and then she growled, and he looked away, down at his nose. Her growl was all that remained of anything odd, she remained passive and Shawchert wasn’t about to remind her that he seemed to apparently make her angry.

Lana Realm · 02-21-2012, 11:18 PM

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Likewise.

She wasn’t afraid. Not of his size or his claws or the scars that littered his body that spoke of earlier disasters. She didn’t feel anything as her fingers danced softly on his bruises. Lana was used to the emptiness that always made her hungry for something out of her reach. But she knew what was in her reach and it didn’t fill the space one inch. When his blue gaze turned, she didn’t find what she hoped would be relief.

The silence became stifling as waves of heat clouded the small room. Lana dropped her bag carelessly to the stone floor and heard it echo even after she had settled in the open doorway. The frame groaned against her weight as she leaned, feeling the edges of her silhouette illuminate in the growing light. She crossed her dark legs and breathed in the fresh air quietly.

“ Se ho potuto bottiglia questa aria, vorrei,”

She said, of course referring to the natural spice in the breeze. In Europe the air had its own original tang, but it was softer and had hints of rotting citrus that made it exceedingly sweat if you inhaled too sharply. Everywhere she went there was a different flavor and the woman grunted silently towards the woods at the thought of being somewhere new again.

“It must be terrible, being away from the light of day,”

Lana spoke again, her cluster of accents enriching the words. The Italian was not an idiot and could hardly even be considered just smart. So she knew the man would not reply. Her tone was edged with yearning, hinting that she might understand, but it was bitter with sarcasm all the same. She turned to face the darkness again just in time to see Cas slipping out the open door with her maw slacked. Lana instantly felt her mood darken without the comfort of her companion that now slid into the pools of sunlight between the buildings. So she let the fresh air fill her lungs again.

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Shawchert Menue · 02-25-2012, 08:13 AM

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WC: 345
OOC: It' all good I'm not much better Smile

Shawchert was tense, laying there not able to do anything. He hated not being able to work, to move, to run, to dance.... to play his flute. To watch his daughters grow older, and have children of their own. His breath quickened at the thought, for that was all he could think about while the other remained as though she too could not speak. His ears flicked a little as she spoke in another language, but he dare not look at her in accordance to what she said. He had no experience in other languages, though he wished he knew the words that came from her mouth.

As she spoke a language Shawchert could understand he turned to her again, though his eyes not on hers, he nodded once, but that was as much as he could do to answer her. His mouth and nose still hurt furiously and even moving it a little caused pain where his tongue used to be. His eyes turned to the woman’s companion had been and blinked in wonderment. If the woman could have a lynx as a companion she was more likely a formidable woman indeed, then again Shaw knew the situation between woman and lynx could be the same as him and his ferret, who he hoped was doing well for he had not seen her and was glad for it. He just hoped she hadn’t become a light snack for any of the wolves around. He knew he had done the right thing sending her away. Looking towards where her hands had been, he felt dirty, though the powdery stuff seemed to help a little, he remembered a time where his fur was not in patches of dirt, it had been sleek and clean, washed every day by his own hands.... own hands. He groaned looking at his paws. He missed more than his tongue the hands that could shape anything he wanted. His carvers hands were no use in this form, hef could have made a grand escape if not for his position.

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