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The de le Poer panted and moaned in her sleep, tucked away in the back of her cave. As was the case ever since the attack, her mind tortured her at night. To her the attack hadn't happened just once, but countless times, almost always coming back to her whenever she closed her eyes. He lay there, hidden away in the dark recesses of her mind, ready to strike as soon as her body sought rest. There was no rest for her though. Yes, she slept, but it was a fitful and unpleasant sleep that never brought any rejuvenation. If possible she woke more tired and exhausted than she had been upon falling asleep. Tonight was yet again one of those nights. The images were more vivid than they had been in a while though and she felt everything as if it were happening all over again. There was no escape, there was never any escape.
Right as the beast reached down to grab a hold of her arm and pull it back into that unnatural position where her bone always snapped like a dry twig her eyes snapped open, horrified. A scream ripped from her lungs and Rikka scrambled to escape the nightmares, the relivings, the pain, everything. With her one good arm she helped herself to run from her cave and from the shadows the enveloped her there. She burst out into the cool morning and didn't stop until she reached the place where the bay met the land. There she dropped to her knees and cradled her bandaged, broken arm with her good one as tears began to stream down her face. Her body shivered from the cold and from so much more. When will it stop? Will it ever stop? Rikka wanted to be herself again, she didn't want to be constantly haunted by what had happened to her. But her old life was separated from her by a wall that she couldn't see the top of and had no idea how to get across. The pale gold and silver hybrid knelt there in the damp sand, frigid waters lapping at her knees, and tried to shield herself from her own mind.
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@$%&Despite the early hour, Alacrity had already been up for some time. Habit had long dictated that she rise before the sun, and now with Anselm’s handsome gifts of two coatlike garments she was able to brave the predawn chill. She’d never had the need to don clothing before, and the fabric – soft and supple as it was – still felt odd and abrasive against her thin, coarse fur. The clothing was, however, intelligently made, and did not impede her swift movement through the Inferni lands. Many of the landmarks and trails were becoming familiar, but there was much the foreign woman hadn’t yet seen.
@$%&An echoed cry, or perhaps the memory of a scream, led Alacrity to alter her current course. Leaving the unexplored trail behind, she doubled back – it wasn’t very far -- and followed instinct down to the shore of the bay. The previous night’s mist hindered the effectiveness of her vision, but other senses soon located the distressed hybrid. Alacrity approached noisily, giving the other plenty of time to react to her presence. When drew closer, she spoke, and her richly accented voice was concerned. "Are you alright?"
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Her chest rose and fell visibly, her breathe leaving her in misty clouds. It was too much for her to handle, but who could possibly help her? If these were still the times of the humans they would say she needed a therapist or psychologist or something. No one in this world really held such knowledge though, and if they did they most certainly did not live in Inferni though. Unlike before, now the idea of leaving the clan's lands frightened her. This was the only place that she were physically safe, at least as long as this war went on. Besides, she didn't want to see what the ravishes of such a mass-scale conflict had produced. That was why she hid herself away in her cave and didn't leave to deal with her own personal conflict, for those outside would only compound her issues.
The approach of another wasn't concealed, and yet still the sound of it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Was it him? Logically she knew that was impossible. If he had gotten anywhere near the borders it would have been detected and he would have been stopped before he could have come this far. Still, fear was an irrational thing and she couldn't stop herself from thinking that. Gaze stayed trained on the water below her as her body shivered. When the voice that broke the silence was not only female, but exotic, she finally felt safe enough to look at who had come over. The form that met her was certainly different and highly unexpected and the confusion surely showed on her haggard features. "Uh...not really, but don't think there's anything anyone can do about it," she answered in a defeated tone.
Straightening up somewhat she looked over the bizarrely colored and shaped canine. It might have been rude, but she couldn't let the question go. "I'm sorry but, what are you exactly?" If she had been in her right state of mind she would have worded it better, but that was all she could manage right now.
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@$%&Being a creature born of desert and plain, the wide ocean still intimidated Alacrity. Although she’d survived the Atlantic crossing on a rather rickety old vessel, the sight rolling waves still threw off her sense of what was right in the world. And the sand! Desert sand flew up in every direction when the wind blew, but beach sand was sticky. It clung to toes and lodged itself in uncomfortable places. Alacrity was more practical than fastidious, but the unshakable coarse grains were damned annoying. Of course, she was perfectly willing to ignore both wave and sand for the promise of an ocean-borne meal – for her, fish was still a delicious and rare novelty.
@$%&For now, however, such thoughts were abandoned in favor of the present. The injured hybrid hadn’t sent her away, which Alacrity took as consent to her presence for the time being. So she settled herself in the sand near – but not too close – to the other woman, shuffling awkwardly with her jacket for a moment until the folds were comfortable enough to sit on. A brief, thoughtful nod indicated her understanding. "Do you want to talk about it?" Alacrity’s tone implied that while she was a willing listener, she wasn’t about to press the other into a conversation on personal matters. They were scarcely acquainted, after all.
@$%&Alacrity understood the confusion her appearance caused. Even while traveling through Europe, much closer to her clan’s homeland, her odd figure and coloration had drawn stares and awkward questions. In time, she’d developed a strategy for dealing with such questions, both the outright and the subtle. "My name’s Alacrity," she said, deliberately mistranslating the “what” for “who” (a common enough mistake for a poor listener or a new language learner, although she was neither), but continued with an indirect answer to the hybrid’s intended question. "Anselm invited me to stay with him for the winter. My homeland is far south and across the sea, and we have no cold season to endure." After time in this acute cold, Alacrity now doubted her ability to survive unaided. Fortunately, Anselm had been willing to help, and they'd both been eager for the company.
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Rikka liked to think of herself as a fairly worldly individual, but there was still so much that she hadn't seen. For example, anyone who even closely resembled the female that now stood before her. She'd seen dogs and foxes and hybrids of all shapes and sizes, but never anyone like the painted, lanky canine before her. Or at least she assumed she was some sort of canine. They could converse after all, so that seemed to be a pretty good indicator. Still, the de le Poer could not connect her to any other species of canine that she had ever laid eyes upon. Despite all she had seen, it was clear there was much more hidden away in the various corners of the globe.
The hybrid's ears flicked as the foreign female asked if she wished to talk about it. Did she? Rikka didn't know if talking would do any good, and it wasn't something she enjoyed relaying, but she supposed there wasn't much to lose from at least giving the woman a basic idea of what it was she was going through. "I didn't know we were at war." That was what she got for spending so much time away from clan lands. If she had been here maybe all of this could have been avoided. "I took a walk in the evening in the neutral lands. I ran into him. The wolf that sparked all this. I didn't do anything, but he chased me and caught me. Did this to me," she said, motioning at the scars on her hip and her still bandaged arm. "Every time I close my eyes he's there. I can't sleep without nightmares. I'm not myself anymore." It was as if the demon had stole her essence away. She wasn't the Rikka she knew any longer.
The woman handled her rude question with grace and it only made Rikka feel all the more guilty for asking in the way that she had. That guilt was compounded when she realized that this was the woman that her cousin was smitten with. "I'm sorry, that was really rude of me," the hybrid said frowning. "It's nice to meet you Alacrity. I'm Rikka de le Poer, Anselm's cousin. Sorry it's not as great of a pleasure to meet me." She couldn't remember the last time she'd made such an awful first impression. "Is your homeland anywhere near France? I've been to France, though I didn't stay long." Perhaps she could salvage the situation yet, even with her damaged social skills.
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@$%&She had only a vague idea who he was, despite Rikka’s clarification. Alacrity knew only the basics about the Dahlia de Mai male, the vicious beast they said was both rapist and murderer. How exactly his actions went unchecked and escalated to war was still a bit of a mystery to her, but she was quickly beginning to wonder if the knowledge of the details would be worth the pain of sympathy. And such sympathy would quickly engender anger, especially as the victims began to acquire familiar faces and beloved names.
@$%&She found herself replying with a slightly awkward, “I’m sorry,” unsure what else to say. Alacrity was accustomed to playing nursemaid and mentor to younger siblings, and had soothed away more than one fanciful nightmare. But what could she say to a woman whose dreams were vivid memories; undoubtedly connected with recollections of acute pain? Still, her nature wouldn’t let her keep silent, not when seeing her companion’s level of distress - thoughts supplied as comfort, not advice. “They say time cures all things,” she continued hesitantly, aware her words offered precious little solace. But she spoke on, gently, “and a mind needs time to heal, just as a body does.” Ah, patience! Perhaps the bitterest medicine of them all.
@$%& The introductions got off to a rocky start. Alacrity felt that Rikka’s apology was not needed, and that it was, on the contrary, a great pleasure to meet any family of Anselm’s, but she instinctively felt that saying so would only increase the awkwardness of their meeting. Seeking forward momentum, she asked what she hoped was a more benign question, “So are you related to Gabriel? Anselm mentioned that Gabriel was his cousin, too.” It would probably take months to untangle the roots of the de le Poer family tree in her mind, but a knot might unravel with each new introduction.
@$%&“Not very near France, no.” Alacrity had traveled through the edges of the country on her way west. It was a picturesque countryside, but too settled for her liking. “It is across the Med… Metedranian?” She frowned, struggling with the translation. “The little sea, between Europe and Africa. South across the water, then inland and farther to the east. There, in the great Nile River Basin, my sisters still run.” It was hard to keep the wistfulness of memory out of her voice. She was long past homesickness, but she had left a lot behind, not exactly willingly, and they were so very far away.
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She couldn't bother to ask or wonder if Alacrity knew of whom she spoke. Even if the other woman didn't know Rikka wouldn't have been able to go into great detail on the beast. She couldn't even bring herself to say his name. The syllables choking in her throat and making her feel as if she might vomit. If Alacrity wished for peace of mind then she wouldn't want to know anyway. The fewer details she knew of the monster's crimes, the better. Rikka shrugged as Alacrity offered her condolences. "I was careless. I should have been more careful." She had been under the illusion that if she didn't give anyone a reason to attack her that she would be safe. That had turned out to be painfully untrue. She appreciated the other's attempt to bring hope into the conversation, but all the hope had been sucked out of the de le Poer. She felt like she were slowly suffocating and dieing. "Yes, I only hope that time will heal me before it's too late..." There was little, if anything, that could truly comfort her. It would simply be better to move the conversation on to other topics.
Rikka knew she wasn't making this easy and she hated to be such a pain. Pleasant social interactions were usually her forté, but as she thought so often, she wasn't herself. At least Alacrity wasn't giving up on her, and she was grateful for the other female's effort, even if it were hard for her to display that gratitude. "Yes, Gabriel's my brother. He can be a little rough around the edges, but he's a good man." She wasn't sure who she was at the moment to say anyone else was "rough around the edges", but if Alacrity had met Gabe then she probably knew what she meant. Rikka loved her brother though, and even if they viewed the world through different eyes, she respected him and trusted him. Unlike their mother, Gabriel had a firm moral grounding and she knew he didn't kill for no reason. If she could stomach any violence, it was that which her brother deemed necessary. Even then, though, it was hard for the peaceful femme.
Her knowledge on the layout of the land and sea on a big scale was poor, and so she could not really picture what Alacrity was telling her, but she listened attentively nonetheless. It must be a very different landscape, she reckoned, given how differently the other was formed. What she could understand though was the wistfulness in her tone and being separated from one's family. "You miss them." It was a statement, for it was clear that she did. "Why did you leave?" There were a lot of probable reasons, but she wouldn't know exactly what it was if she didn't ask.
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