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Yay for beating up Deuce. LOL
She'd heard there was a pack in this area somewhere. She figured she'd go meet them, find out about them. It couldn't hurt to make allies among packs. She paused at the borders, then leaned against a tree, letting out a long howl. She wasn't demanding attention, just announcing her presence. Her dulcet tones were unmistakeable as she let her voice ring out. Her howl held the same faint air of Eire that her voice did, an accent created by association with her adopted father, and now new ties with her adopted father's daughter.
Her adopted father was dead. She hadn't seen her half brother Edgar in years. He'd moved on, she supposed. He was more their father's child than she was. But he'd actually been raised by the father they shared. She hadn't. She ran her fingers through her mane and yawned. She'd stayed up last night writing in her journal. She was still trying to sort out her feelings for Haku and Lucifer. Not to mention all the reading she'd been doing to learn what she could about boats.
She let her glance slide upwards, to where the clouds were ready to let lose with another thunderstorm. It had been raining for what seemed like a month now. She hoped the water levels wouldn't rise much more or her beachside house would flood. And that would infuriate the woman. She lovd her house, and didn't want it to flood.
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What exactly do you want him to do to her, as far as wounds go?
He had caught her scent before the call rang out. That woman was here, of all places. What in the hell was she doing? There was no reason for her to be here. “Unless she’s after something,” he mused to himself. “, and we can’t have that.” For the moment, at least, he was lucky. Laurel had gone off to the city again, and his companion was probably sleeping heavily (she, it seemed, had also caught the illness). The blonde was still not completely cured himself, but the disease was on its last legs. His chest still hurt and random pain would shoot through his body, but this was nothing new. It had been the same coming off of heroine. It had been worse.
Above, the clouds rolled again and a distant rumble of thunder signaled that a storm was coming. It was just as well. They needed the rain, and the rain would suit his purpose. Even now, he knew what he was doing. He approached downwind, well aware she would probably remember him. That someone had told her his name. Smiling thinly, the sort of smile a half-mad stranger might give an unwilling companion, he closed the gap between them. “Aren’t you a little far from home?”
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Hmmm...I'm thinking a broken rib and some new scars, though none facial this time. She needs her fingers and arms functional. LOL
A voice sounded behind her, and she held her breath. A tiny voice in her head whispered, "run." Instead he turned slowly, letting her breath esape in a soft sigh. She lifted her chin bravely, facing the golden demon. "I came here in peace, Ahren. Not to cause trouble."
Trouble was all she would find, she knew from the look on his face. She took a step backwards, her eyes dialating with fear. Unlike her son, Taliesin, she wasn't fearless. She knew what this madman could do to her, what he'd done to her before. She didn't want tht again. Not when she'd come here in peace.
The voice in her head was getting louder until it was shrieking at her. "RUN DAMNIT RUN!" She gave in to it's warnings. She turned and fled, attemoting to dodge branches and rocks, her movements instinctive and reminiscent of a doe in flight. A doe who has seen the fate in store for her. A doe who knew she was going to die.
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There had never really been a plan, per say. There was an idea, an impulse, something like that. He kept his eyes on her and studied her body, reading the tension and the terror. She remembered him. She remembered everything. And truthfully, he didn’t want it any other way. A coy patience was in his walk, never adverting as her eyes grew wide, grew panicked. Then she was running, doing the worst possible thing she could have done. Instinct took over and he had no willpower—this was a game, a very dangerous game. He intended to come out victor.
Despite the fact his body was healing, despite the fact he could only run for so long, he knew if he caught here then everything would quiet down. The speed pushed them out of the territory, away from the borders, back into the wild. There, no rules applied. Really, no rules had ever really applied here. A few more steps caught him up to her, and one hand grabbed a chunk of the thick, snow-white hair, the other going out and striking her shoulder. The force sent her to the ground and he panted heavily, laughing quietly, almost hysterically as he tried to regain his breath. “Where are you going so fast on those little legs of yours?” Some arcane folktale wafted through his memory, distorting his vision. For a split second, she was his mother, and for a split second, she was Matinee. The hand around her hair tightened and he kept grinning, hair falling into his face and hiding the blind eye.
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His hands were in her hair. Her heart was racing, not from exertion, but from fear. Ahren was a mad man. Truly crazy. He had her on the ground, and she was scared. No, not just scared; she was terrified. A whimper sounded in her throat as she looked up at him.
"Please, Ahren, I came in peace. Please don't hurt me." She shuddered in abject terror, her ears flat against her head, her bi-colored eyes wild. She tried to squirm away, but he held her tight. His grip in her hair was ever tightening, and she whined.
"Please...." She brought her hands up to protect herself. Above them, the sky rumbled again. The first few drops fell heavilly, landing with a loup 'plop!' A drop fell into her face and she flinched, her body tensing unpleasantly. "Let me go...."
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The rain began to fall lightly, spotting the ground and their fur. Ahren was laughing again, but not very loudly, almost without noise. He laughed because this was all too easy, and it had been too easy the last time. “You shouldn’t have run,” he explained, and put one foot on her back. It slid because of the dampness, and reached her side instead. Though he did not put much weight on it yet, he began to do so gradually, slowly. “Only guilty people run. You feel guilty about what you did yet?” Another pound of pressure. The rain was still coming down, but not yet pouring. It was all right. The rain was doing its job and hiding them from the world.
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"Only guilty people run. You feel guilty about what you did yet?” She stared at him blankly. "I didn't do anything!" she screamed. "You're fucking crazy!" His claws were digging into her painfully, and the pressure from his foot was ever increasing. She whimpered, struggling to get away. "Damnit, let me get up! I never did anything to you, you stupid fuck!" She was thrashing now, mud coating her pristine pelt.
Finally, her energy mostly spent, she laid there panting, glaring balefully at her attacker. Fear mixed with anger, making her heart race and her body quake, and her feeble glare laughable. She was no different from a trapped rabbit. She was helpless against this male, and it infuriated her. She hated being helpless. "What the hell did I ever do to you?!" Her voice came out as a whine, puny and adolescent.
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She can probably pull away from him and get some scars on her right arm, and then take off running?
She kept struggling, but it didn’t do anything. Ahren stared at her with the serenity of a Buddhist monk, though his eyes were burning and his mouth was locked in a bizarre grin. Mud flew up around him, splattering his blonde fur. It was all right. They were filthy inside too. The question she whimpered made him laugh again, as if the idea was completely absurd. “Remember the boy?” He asked, lowering his mouth to her tattered ear. “Black hair, mismatched eyes…ja, I know you do.”
Suddenly, he brought his entire weight onto her side, and grinned viciously as he felt something snap. It sounded faint, like a wet branch in the forest. “See, the way I hear it, you’re a sick girl,” he continued, and grabbed her right arm. His nails dug into her skin and he dragged her up, drawing blood. The other remained half-entangled by her hair, as he pushed her forward, further away from Esper Hollow. “It’s dangerous to be a whore these days,” he trailed on, pulling his hand out from her hair. That same hand trailed to his side, and to the knife there.
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The boy? What boy? her mind spun, then cleared as he described who he meant. Jasper. She opened her mouth to speak, but screamed instead as something inside of her chest snapped, sending hot shards of agony into her body. He dragged her up, and a hand immediately flew to his chest, pushing uselessly. His nxt words chilled her to the bones. "It’s dangerous to be a whore these days,” he said as he reached for his knife.
His one hand had freed her hair. With a strength she'd never known she possessed, she ripped away. His claws dug deeply into her arm, making deep gouges, valleys of ruined skin. She wouldn't feel it until later. She wouldn't realize she'd lost her pack until later. Now she just ran. She ran like the devil himself was after her. And perhaps he was. Perhaps Ahren was the devil, sent to torment her. She sobbed breathlessly as she ran, her body aching, her arm bleeing, her chest tight with bands of pain. She ran for her life.
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There was a moment when he realized he had let her get away. It was a sudden flash of inspiration, like Technicolor in a washed out movie. He felt her move, and felt her tear away, and all too suddenly she was gone in a flash of red and white. The hand on his left side remained hanging in the air, just inches from the knife. Scraps of fur and flesh hung in his right hand, as if he had ripped them from the air. Then one shake sent it flying through the air, into the thick brush below.
He stared ahead, eyes seeing but not seeing, smelling blood and fear. This was a familiar thing, but unlike before, he knew why he felt the way he did. He could remember feeling this way in Europe, but then it had been waking up from a dream, or the dream of a dream. There was no vague sensation of sleeping, or the sunspot that swallowed his memory. She survived, and that meant she would talk. “She can’t do anything,” he said aloud. No, but what if she brought her pack down on him? “Won’t be the first time,” he said with a laugh, and turned. No, everything would be fine. “Yeah,” he coughed throatily. “Everything is gonna be just fine.”
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