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| Whatever Lurks in the Woods; tag: sara! | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 20 2015, 12:12 PM (383 Views) | |
| Glede | Jul 20 2015, 12:12 PM Post #1 |
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And with his sword my breast he cleft, / My quaking heart thereout he reft, / And in the yawning of my breast / A coal of living fire he pressed.
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Autumn, 8 AR. “Margot? Margot!” Llewellyn had a hunting-knife in one hand and a scrap of robin’s-egg cloth in the other; he wore a worried expression on his long pale face and his brown eyes flicked this way and that, catching on the dewy branches of the pines. He wasn’t sure what he expected. To see her hiding ’neath one of the trees, maybe, shaking like a leaf, her dress all torn and bruises blooming from her rosy cheeks but alive and ready to come home – that’d be the ideal, he knew: that was as good as it got. But he had all sorts of queer pictures in his head otherwise. Some little voice whispered in his head that Margot had met the same fate as Susan and Jacob. There was something out there in the trees, Llewellyn knew, and every time the branches scraped each other or a rabbit skittered in the undergrowth he was put in mind of it. “Please let her be okay,” he was muttering to himself. “Please let her come home okay.” They said it was some sort of insect, but then they said lots of things. They said it could talk just like a human when it wanted to, to lure you into the trees or make you let it into your house. Some of them said it had a great long tongue it stuck you with, like a big mosquito – Bald Joseph swore up and down he’d seen it feasting on some poor fox that way, slurping it up and then carrying what was left back into the trees. Old Joe’s embellishment aside, they said it had eyes and ears in the mosquitoes, and if you were getting eaten up by the little devils... well, that’s when you knew it was around. This many mosquitoes in the fall wasn’t quite natural, but they showed no signs of going away. Llewellyn’s head jerked up; he listened carefully. A little voice: ‘Llewellyn! Llewellyn!’ He gasped, cried her name once loud and clear – once again, he heard a return, though quieter: ‘Llewellyn!’ Readying his hunting-knife and steeling himself, he charged off into the trees in the direction of the voice. The pines were thick here, and the grey autumn sky was no good source of light to see by. He felt lost in a labyrinth of shadows and treetrunks, as suffocating as the corn-mazes in the summer festival but with no pretense of fun; he imagined strange hands were pulling at the hem of his sackcloth pants, boots squelching in the damp undergrowth. Still he heard Margot’s voice, closer and closer the further he hacked and stumbled. He swatted a mosquito from his face, cursing in a way that would’ve made his mama wash his mouth out with soap. “I’m almost there, Margot,” he bellowed; a hundred birds, it seemed like, went careering out of the trees at the sound of his voice. He was panting and his sweat was cold in the crisp morning air. “I’m comin’--” It took another two mosquitoes for it to hit him – and when it did, he froze still as a scarecrow. The voice kept yelling, mechanically: ‘Llewellyn! Llewellyn!’ It hadn’t gotten any closer. ‘Llewellyn!’ He heard a twig snap behind him. * A rustle of mail and a deep sigh rang out among the skeletal pines. A great man in armor, faint light glinting in the contours of his impassive brass mask, sat leaned up against a tree, flexing his gauntlets against his knees with some agitation. He tilted his head back now, glancing up at the eerie dull sky – then he drew up his shoulders and surveyed the clearing before him, framed with soggy wet branches and thin still trees. It had been some time since Glede had last braved northern Morrim; he recalled with equal parts grimness and warmth that this was not far from the area in which he had met Silas, and had (necessarily) followed the boy to his ill-fated farm. With the troubles in the west, Morrim was a harrowed land, perhaps even more strained than Ashoka. Last winter had been bad for crops and portents of this winter held little promise. Everywhere the construct had traveled, before and after he had taken his leave of the farmboy-turned-mercenary, faces were haggard and hollow eyes stared out accusations. By Nailah, it seemed that the last thing these people needed was a monster hunting them! Proximity to Orl’kabbar ensured that the village of Aldbrook had never been the most safe retreat, but whatever they had been living in fear of for the past month was no brigand or escaped murderer. Thus far it had taken six individuals and left no bodies behind; the last two were young sweethearts, according to the locals, one Llewellyn and another Margot, the former of which had snuck (rather ill-advisedly, Glede thought) against his parents’ will into the woods to search for his beau. The people of Aldbrook had been suspicious of the great dark paladin at first, but so desperate were they for any help at all that they yielded the necessary information quickly. They had, after all, been posting many pleas for help in the surrounding area and sending word to the great economic centers via courier. Passing through and relatively unoccupied, Glede’s principles would not allow him to say no once he had wrangled out all the specific details. The slim chance that the village’s enemy was Dead made the venture, in the construct’s mind, worth a try; besides, he could not stand by and let more innocent people fall to the wicked Thing in the trees. Llewellyn’s foolish bravado reminded him too much of Silas for comfort. He’d ventured into the woods after a day’s preparation in Aldbrook; he had felt himself much unwelcome there and was glad for the peaceful solitude of nature, even with the grim weather and the eerie company of the trees. He was reinforcing his courage and preparing himself for what might lay deeper in the trees when he heard a sound. Glede rose to his feet immediately with a shuff of mail. He slid Arukah halfway from her sheath and stood looking around at the trees, bracing himself. “Show yourself,” he commanded, grating into the dusky shadows. Then, softer: “Who is there?” Night would fall soon – surely it could not be a person. Perhaps it had been a fox or an imagining. Edited by Glede, Jul 20 2015, 12:12 PM.
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| Sara | Jul 23 2015, 08:13 PM Post #2 |
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~Hail, Mysteria -- I shield my eyes...~
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"There has got to be a logical explanation." Says the skeptical mind. "There is always a logical explanation." Not so, said Sara. As comforting as it was to think that there were logical explanations for everything, there just wasn't. Some things, yes -- most things, actually. Most times, things happened for a reason and they could easily be explained away or rationalized. But sometimes things just happened because they could. Sometimes, she thought, the gods would come up with something outrageous, toss it into Mundus, and say something like: "let's see what they do with this!" Aldbrook, she felt, was currently experiencing one of these latter situations. Initially she had stopped in the sleepy little village on her way to the marshy woods, wherein lay, she had been told, a mysterious stone formation. It was just a rumor, but apparently visiting the stones and watching the sun rise overtop of them brought good luck -- and Sara needed all the luck she could get. The journey to this part of the marshy forest could be tricky, she had been told, for those who didn't know what they were doing, but she generally knew what she was doing when it came to natural landscapes. Usually. Besides which she had seen a hawk on her way to Aldbrook, and for her, hawks always meant safe travels. She had arrived in the village, however, to find it in an anxious state. Signs posted throughout the town suggested some sort of creature was on the prowl, preying on its people, and the folks she had asked so far either slammed the door in her face or spoke in hushed tones about an unspeakable evil thing. Some said it resembled an insect; others said it always looked like someone you knew. All anyone knew for sure was that people were disappearing, and no one had been found yet. So it was that with a burning, terrified sort of curiosity, Sara had found Bughunter a nice house to bunk up in while she was off chasing critters. "It's probably just some strange animal," Said her inner skeptic. She was good with animals: maybe she could figure out what it was. Of course, she had no plans of fighting the thing if it came to blows, but she packed her bow and dagger and checked her boots for holes and leaks and ventured out into the skeletal, boggy woods. There was something satisfying about trekking through a particularily wet forest when you were properly bundled up -- especially in autumn. Autumn, she had decided, would be a good time to go exploring, because the mosquitoes would be dead, or sleeping, or at some sort of mosquito convention and wouldn't be an issue. There were other animals to worry about: bears and cougars, for instance, were engaging in their last hunts and foraging sessions to fatten up for the coming winter. Sara was prepared for this. But it seemed as though she had prepared for nothing: the woods were eerily quiet, even for a marsh. The sun hung high in the sky, but it was somehow dark, as though twilight was falling upon the wood. Dark, empty... dead. As the young, hapless pilgrim passed through the edge of the wetland and beneath the piney canopy a strange feeling of dread niggled from the bottom of her heart, and it felt so much more lonely and depressing without Bughunter here with her. The pines, normally steadfast and eternal in her eyes, looked emaciated and a step away from death. Trees that represented immortality seemed to be shrivelling up, and this disturbed her on a deep, subtle level. Maybe it wasn't an animal, she thought, adjusting her pack on her shoulders and leaning over to examine some tracks. Maybe it was a person, and they were kidnapping people. Maybe they were taking people away to Orl'kabbar to be sold on the slave market..! Or for their innards, or their bone marrow, or some other grisly, ghastly thing. The girl shuddered and straightened out. "Nah," She whispered. Suddenly she was all-too aware of the loudness of the squelching sound her boots made on the springy ground. Another shudder was repressed. "That's just loony." A few more minutes in and the atmosphere was almost oppressive. A few birds called out off in the distance, which brought her some measure of comfort -- if the animals were still acting normally then things weren't likely as bad as she was thinking they were. Another set of tracks caught her attention and she knelt fully to examine them, brow furrowed. The wet ground preserved them nicely: two, perhaps three sets were here, small and roughly rounded, about an inch or two deep. Deer, She automatically diagnosed. But there was something off about them... "Show yourself." Sara nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling, eyes darting around at light-speed to locate the owner of the voice. Her heart hammered audibly in her chest. Oh god oh god it is a person, they're going to trick me or conk me over the head and drag me off to some horrible house or cave and split me open and steal my galbladder-- She readied her bow and nocked an arrow and tried not to show that her hands were shaking. She bit her lower lip fearfully and stepped with great care towards the sound. "Who is there?" The young pilgrim stepped out from a small, browning thicket. The dying sunlight glinted off the bronze mask, but barely lit the stranger's blackened armor. Whoever they were, they were huge, and well-armed, she noted -- but they didn't look like the stealthy sneaky gut-stealing type. Sara swallowed and kept her bow lowered non-threateningly (as if she could ever appear threatening), but raised enough to let the stranger know she wasn't going to be taken advantage of. "I-I am?" It came out in the form of a question, her voice squeaking a little more than she liked. She cleared her throat and tried to sound a bit more confident. "If you want my bone marrow you better prepare for an arrow in your face! Or any other part of me for that matter, I mean it, I'll hand you your ass...!" Maybe that wasn't the best greeting, but when you were an inch and a half away from pissing yourself it was the best you could hope for. Edited by Sara, Jul 23 2015, 10:20 PM.
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| Glede | Jul 24 2015, 03:06 PM Post #3 |
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And with his sword my breast he cleft, / My quaking heart thereout he reft, / And in the yawning of my breast / A coal of living fire he pressed.
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Logical reasoning was not exactly Glede’s forte. When he had caught sight of movement in the trees, he had had to stay himself from trembling – steel himself against the shadowy autumn wood. ‘I-I am?’ peeped a voice. Now he stood motionless, dumbfounded when confronted with the young lady and her bow and her nocked arrow. All thought had been stricken from his mind. For a few moments he stared, blade half-drawn, listening to the girl make her threats. On the one hand, he had felt a wash of relief to see another human being emerge from the gloom. On the other... She... I... what? Glede glanced down at himself, wondering if something about his aspect might encourage the idea that he approved of bone marrow theft. It is a countenance to evoke the thought of many malicious things, but none more or less so than the thieving of one’s bone marrow. It was a rather specific accusation, to own the truth. Finding nothing on himself to incite more than the usual bad feelings, he sheathed his scimitar and straightened, studying the prepared-looking hunter quizzically through impassive bronze. In a tentative gesture of placation, he lifted up his hands. “I have no desire to take your bone marrow,” replied the construct, “and I do not wish to be shot.” She has dressed for the climate – and she handles her bow well. An arrow would not do much damage, but the aftermath of such an attack did not appeal to him. “And I do not... want... anything else from you. I apologize if my greeting was less than kind; I was wary, but no insult was meant.” He took a small step forward, then lowered his shoulders in something of a pitiful bow, sacrificing politeness for the ability to keep his gaze fixed on her at all times. The girl seemed pressed enough – her bow was low, her posture not precisely unfriendly, but she did have an arrow nocked and had indeed just threatened to ‘hand’ Glede his ‘ass’ – and he did not want to take any chances. “Nightfall approaches. These woods are dangerous. Who are you?” He glanced to the right and left of her, into the misty trees, but she did not appear to have any companions. “I am here to investigate the troubles at Aldbrook,” he offered, sounding less than convicted. |
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| Sara | Jul 24 2015, 07:55 PM Post #4 |
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~Hail, Mysteria -- I shield my eyes...~
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"...you don't?" The bow lowered a bit. He had sheathed that wicked blade, and, with only one or two misgivings Sara put the arrow back in its quiver. She kept the bow on hand in case she needed to whack him a good one, but something told her she wouldn't have to. Perhaps it was her experience reading body language but something in this guy's earnest, carefully-chosen words made her feel more at ease. She straightened out and took a couple casual steps closer so they wouldn't have to shout at each other -- though the reverb from the stranger's mask made it easier to hear him, in her opinion. She scratched the side of her nose, ears burning now with embarrassment. "Um... s-sorry about that. I'm not a xenophobe, I swear, it's just these disappearances..." She trailed off, not sure that she really needed to elaborate. But she brightened when he disclosed his intentions. A comrade, perhaps! Just like in the stories.,! But it was best to not get too excited: he could still be a creeper for all she knew. "Hey, me too," A timidly hopeful smile lit her features. "I was thinking it could be an animal, or even a person..." No, best not disclose those details. It would only lead to further embarrassment. "But I just got here a few hours ago, so what do I know?" Feeling encouraged by... something, she stepped forth and cheerfully offered a hand to shake. Gods this guy was huge. "I'm Sara. Good to meetcha." |
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| Glede | Jul 25 2015, 02:15 PM Post #5 |
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And with his sword my breast he cleft, / My quaking heart thereout he reft, / And in the yawning of my breast / A coal of living fire he pressed.
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Not a xenophobe! This almost wrangled a chuckle from the dour priest. He wondered for a moment if the people of northern Morrim were accustomed to Ashokan marrow-thieves – if she had been troubled by his accent, such a thing would make the situation more clear. Otherwise, what relevance did bone marrow theft have to anything at all? He remained mired in – mystified by – this conundrum. Were bandits crossing down from Ashoka to steal the organs of hapless Morrimians? With stories of Lothiar Reik and his entourage alive on the chilly winds, such a wretched thing would not surprise him. Orl’kabbar, too... It seemed an ill-fated land these days. Glede perked when she explained her mission; most of the tension bled from his posture and he dropped into a true, formal bow, daring to let his gaze sweep down to her feet and then to the soggy undergrowth between them. He hung there for a few seconds – as long as courtesy seemed to require. “The disappearances have made everyone wary,” he replied as he rose, dipping his head in a nod, “including myself. I was quite prepared for some horrid villain to charge out of the gloom at me. I am grateful that it was only you. Being, ah--” He took her hand rather limply, oddly small in his great black gauntlet. “--Sara, I see. Thank you. It is a pleasure to meet a fellow ally of Aldbrook.” Has she truly come here to hunt the – Thing? Alone? How horrid! Then again, he had done the same, and he hardly knew what evils this young lady had vanquished in the past. As was often the case, perhaps her appearance belied her experience. She certainly knew well how to wield a bow, and he would not have been surprised if her eye for shooting was uncannily accurate. It was a feeling he had and could not shake – it was something in her eye, or her voice, or the curl of her fingers round the bowstring, even slack. A pause. “I am Glede, a healer and banisher from the north.” To tell her now...? He seemed to struggle with the disclosure of something – and then, as if having decided, withdrew his hand and gave another slight bow. “Nailah willing, it is only an animal or a person, as you say. But an animal leaving no trace of its victim’s body – that does not seem likely to me. Then again, I know little of the behavior of animals. I hope you are right.” With a shuffle he turned, peering between the trees. Not far from here, they became more dense; the light from above had difficulties squeezing through the canopy, and now that the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, shadows seemed to bathe and revel at the roots of the pines. Can I trust her? She could be a bandit. But they seemed to be alone, and he had been struck with an awful realization. “Sara, perhaps, ah – perhaps we should stay together, now that Kahlil has blessed us to find one another. We hunt the same quarry, after all. Does this sound acceptable? “...Have you brought a torch or a lantern?” Heavens! How could he forget? Unnecessary ‘necessities’ like food and bandages were one thing – light to see by was quite another! |
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| Sara | Aug 3 2015, 08:00 PM Post #6 |
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~Hail, Mysteria -- I shield my eyes...~
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Honestly, if he had asked, Sara would have told him that bone-marrow theft has absolutely nothing to do with anything but a train of thought that went waaay off the tracks. It happened to her astonishingly frequently, and was an unfortunate side-effect of being a daydreamer. No one had ever yet brought attention to it. But how else were you supposed to get to point A to point X, other than by swerving wildly around all the other letters? How else did all geniuses think? Well, logic of course, but logic didn't always do the job, some things just didn't operate on logic, like the situation here. For these situations, you usually needed someone so flaky, so out of touch, so incredibly airheaded, to find the craziest solution to an equally crazy problem. She broke eye -- face? -- contact to slap her cheek hard. A tiny black smudge appeared on her face and she glanced at her hand in disgust before wiping it on the leg of her pants. "Asshole," She muttered to its dead parasitic spirit, and scrubbed at her cheek with her scarf. She turned her head so that Glede could examine it. "Is it gone?" When she received her answer (with a "cool, thanks" in reply), she stepped back and peered around. The young lady felt them everywhere. Clouds of them drifted in the dying light, and more would be coming. Or maybe not -- did mosquitoes like the super-cold? "Mosquitoes." She decided aloud, voicing the age-old loathing mankind had for one of the world's tiniest creatures. "Those things'll kill ya. "Nah, you are right. It'd be pretty wild if it turned out to be an animal... No traces, not even tracks to go by. No tracks in this boggy earth means nothing has walked over it. I saw some deer prints just now, so whatever this thing is, it's not scaring the local critters." Just as Sara's wily detective wits were about to start on about point A and point X, Glede suggested something she had been quietly figuring all along -- though his wording gave her pause. There was a genuine respect for gods there, which suggested maybe he was a bit more open-minded than the people she usually hung around. "Sure, works for me." Sweet, my own meat-shield! Was her first thought. Instead, she said: "Probably safer that way, too." The advent of the mosquitoes was brought with a descending night, and soon it would be nearly impossible to see in such woods. Once again, Sara was prepared. With a smile she reached behind her and unhooked a lantern from her bag, and a box of precious matches from her pocket. "Sure have." She knelt to the wet peat moss to light it, and stood again triumphantly. "And, it has citronella oil: no bugs." The warm orange glow was faint now, but it would get brighter as the world around them got darker, and at least they wouldn't get eaten alive. At least, not by the wee biters. She blew some air out between her lips, puffing her cheeks slightly. "But... where in the world should we start? And we better find a spot to camp out in before all the light goes away." |
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| Glede | Aug 9 2015, 01:18 PM Post #7 |
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And with his sword my breast he cleft, / My quaking heart thereout he reft, / And in the yawning of my breast / A coal of living fire he pressed.
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"Yes," said Glede, with a bit more hesitation than was necessary to answer that question. In truth, he did not think that the insect was quite 'gone'. He had meditated on it for some moments, leaning forward and tilting his head and watching the dim light from above shiver over her cheek. It could have been a shadow, but it seemed to him that a faint, dark smear of something remained on her cheek. He felt constricted. He was not certain how to point it out without sounding rude. With another brusque nod, he repeated, "Yes," his voice a little stronger and more sure. A pause. The mosquito's presence disturbed him of a sudden. Glede shot a few glances about him and over Sara's shoulders; they clustered and fluttered in every patch of light that wriggled its way down from the stiff branches of the canopy. The construct let out a little grunt of discomfort, privately recalling the warnings of the villagers in Aldbrook. "Indeed they will." Clipped, short, and more than a tad forced. "Mosquitoes indeed. Terrible." No traces, no tracks... How to track a monster which left nothing behind to mark its passage -- it was a puzzling and perilous dilemma even for Sara, who seemed to Glede experienced hunting in woods like these. If any truth lay in the whispers that circulated Aldbrook, the presence and density of the mosquitoes might be the key to finding 'it', whatever it was. Or the warning to run, should they become the prey rather than the hunters. This was yet another reason, he thought, to welcome Sara's company. He had not noticed the great wavering swarms of them. Mosquitoes do not irritate those without flesh; Glede could not recall how a mosquito's bite felt. If any had landed on them, he could not even feel the skitter of their legs or the brush of their wings. The hardy light of the lantern tore him from his thoughts. Citronella oil! "Very good." Glede laughed. He moved a bit closer and bent to look at the lantern; the light made amber reflections slither over his mask, affecting happy and sad and ghoulish expressions all at once. "Very--" A noise in the trees at some distance -- a noise the likes of which he had never heard, and, though faint, was impossible to place or describe -- made him straighten with a creak. By all the gods, what-- His hand flew to the hilt of his scimitar; he tilted his head, listening, almost unconsciously placing himself between the young hunter and the direction from which the noise had come. It rang out again, even quieter, a click-click-click that seemed to grow more and more distant, a rustling that echoed into chill silence. The veil of mosquitoes, which had choked the air just moments ago, seemed much thinner. After a moment, his stance relaxed. "Did you hear that?" He remained reluctant to loosen his grip on Arukah, but turned back to Sara with a sigh. "What in all of Soare was that? I think that you are correct. I think that we should start moving. I take it that you are -- more experienced in camping than I. Please do lead on." A little shiver of metal, like leaves in the autumn. Embarrassed, he realized that he had been shaking. |
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| Sara | Aug 24 2015, 09:20 PM Post #8 |
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~Hail, Mysteria -- I shield my eyes...~
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The way the lantern light glanced off that mask he wore was at once enchanting and frightening, like standing stones themselves at dusk: something otherworldly that might be very dangerous, yet so incredibly enchanting. She found her smile fully reaching her eyes between the vision and his laughter, as weirdly hollow and bass-y as it was, and decided that she already really liked this guy -- though she wondered why he insisted on wearing a mask... She didn't have time to wonder, however. A strange series of sounds carried through the canopy, drawing both of their attentions. Sharpshooter eyes flicking through the needled branches to the darkening sky, Sara could make out nothing, and soon it faded away. A chill ran over her covered arms. The mosquitoes began to disappear, and she remembered what some people in Aldbrook had been saying about the diabolical buggers and the creature. Oh man, She thought, noticing now how dark is was getting and how cold, and how suddenly scary the woods had become. Why did I come here..? But there was someone else here with her, she had to remember, and it looked like they'd be relying on each other for at least the rest of the night. She steeled herself to try and be brave -- but only half-succeeded. "Yeah... sure did." Her voice was low, soft. Cautious. Her pounding heart was disguised by the hum of twilight insects. "Come on... let's boogie." She took them a short ways, testing the ground with her booted feet and examining the cover. After a few minutes she found a decent spot, rather small but big enough to fit them and a fire if they really needed it. Though she wasn't sure lighting a fire would be a good idea -- it could attract the monster for all she knew, or it could repel it. Besides which, the wet wood in this place would be absolute murder to try and start up. She hunkered down to lay some of her stuff on the moss at the base of a tree and felt instant relief from its weight. "Well... the bugs seemed to get really excited about whatever that was back there. Sounds like it's in the trees, though." The girl straightened and adjusted her bow and arrows for easy access.... just in case. "Might be tough to follow, but I think starting back there would be best." Just don't split the party, don't split the party... "...do you think a fire would be good, or bad..?" |
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| Glede | Aug 25 2015, 07:53 PM Post #9 |
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And with his sword my breast he cleft, / My quaking heart thereout he reft, / And in the yawning of my breast / A coal of living fire he pressed.
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The trek through the dusk was long, crowded by shadows and the bones of trees. In the falling light, Glede could see the shape of Sara’s back moving slowly ahead, cautious, limned with the light of the lantern. As the sparse limbs of the trees marched by, looming past in the mist, he shuddered. His thoughts to some extent echoed hers—they were strangers, and now circumstance had forced them to put trust in one another for this night at least, if not more. It was not a situation to put Glede at ease, and he could not imagine how the woman’s nerves fared, having to rely upon something that looked like him. Nevertheless, he also could not help that he felt more at ease around her now. It was unlikely that she had any but pure intentions; she was a bit finicky, but that was no great sin. (So, he thought reluctantly, was he, in fact—he had coached himself not to threaten people without certainty of their ill intention, but he had been prepared to cut through an army of the Dead before the lone form of the hunter had straggled carefully out of the pines. In a way, he even respected how vocal she had been, though threatening to plant an arrow in the hindquarters of an imposing stranger—or whatever it was that she had said—was not so wise.) In the monotony of their squelching footfalls he found comfort. This was not so bad. As foolish as he felt putting his faith in a stranger, he remembered the one other time he had done so—stranded in the Xeric, when all was darkness and the billowing wind. Just as he and Phaedrus had cut down the skin-changer, perhaps he and Sara would get to the root of this. With the solid fact the two of them working together, he felt oddly confident. Sounds like it’s in the trees. Glede shivered again, gaze drawn to the twilit shadows that hung between the slender trunks. He stood there a moment, listening to Sara drop her things by the tree and adjust her bow and quiver, but he did not look away just then; something in the curling shadows held his figurative eyes, impressed upon him the need for constant vigilance. At length, and with some reluctance, he broke his stare. His glance fled to Sara; he nodded. “I agree. There was certainly a sign back there, though I am not certain of what it… meant.” He shifted his weight and put a hand on his hip, sighing. “Doubtless the people of Aldbrook entertained you quite enough with their theories, but I am suspicious nonetheless of these great quantities of mosquitoes—excited or not. It is not the season for them, is it? They were a great deal more copious back there; I hardly see any now.” Truth be told, he knew little of insects; he did not recall seeing many mosquitoes in Ashoka regardless of the season. A fire. He thought for a moment, feeling a sudden prickle of anxiety in his soul. He himself did not require that warmth, but it might be a cold night for Sara without one; on the other hand, any kindling in the vicinity was soggy with dew and rain. “…I do not know. What do you think?” A pause. “I am able and willing to help you insofar as I can; it looks as if it would be difficult, what with the wet ground, but it might deter our predator. Merely tell me what I can do to help.” Or a fire might draw the thing near, he thought, though he let it go unsaid. How cold is it? Talk of fires and rest had put him in a state of singular discomfort; he felt cornered, forced to guess and take chances. She is bundled well—it cannot be warm— “I understand that this is a strange query, but perchance you could tell me what the temperature is like? Do not look confused, please. I have a… condition which prevents me from feeling it.” |
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| Sara | Jul 18 2016, 01:33 AM Post #10 |
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~Hail, Mysteria -- I shield my eyes...~
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"Oh." Sara responded easily to his explanation, hardly missing a beat; she had learned a long time ago not to make people feel uncomfortable about their conditions or illnesses -- not only did it make conversation awkward, but the guilt ate a hole through her guts every time. "Well, it's far too cold for mosquitoes, I'll tell you that for free." She held up the lantern and blew so Glede could see the steam on her breath. The knot in her stomach grew tighter, and she realized she was beginning to shiver. The cold had always aggravated her anxiety. A sigh. "Yeah, I better try and light one. If nothing else the smoke will keep the micro-vampires at bay. Would you be able to grab some wood, please?" She asked meekly. "I'll set up and try to bust out some sort of kindling." She hunkered down to make the pit, lining it with what few stones she could find, and searching through her bag. Finally she came up with a few scraps of cloth torn from the blue scarf about her hips, soaking them in lantern oil and setting them as a starter. From around the camp she snapped a few of the shorter, spindly trees about (with a guilty "sorry"). Her knife whittled away at the bark, and a tiny hatchet on the side of her bag assisted in breaking them lengthwise into smaller, thinner pieces of kindling -- it was painful work and she ended up with a few splinters in her nails, and smacked herself in the face with a couple of the sticks, but after a half hour of tedious labor and a few well-chosen cusswords, Sara managed to get the beginnings of a fire going. "Thanks for the help," She said with a smile, wiping the woody bits off her face and smacking at a mosquito on her leg simultaneously. "Wet wood is tough to get going, but it burns long. It should be fine while we take a looka-doo around." Unfortunately though, as she stooped to pick up her lantern and start investigating back the way they came, all the trees and branches seemed to twist to form figures, and trying to figure out which way they had come was difficult for a moment. "I hate swamps at night -- swamps and plains. Everything looks the same. Here..." Doing her best to ignore the shapes in the darkness, which truthfully wigged her out a bit, Sara followed their tracks back the way they had come, the boggy earth holding the shape well. She leaned down to investigate some other tracks that she was certain weren't there before, similar to the deer-like tracks she had seen earlier. "Look at this," She invited Glede to get a closer look. "These are weird. They almost look like some kind of deer, but the toes are way too long -- and this bit here..." She hadn't noticed it before, but in the lanternlight it became apparent that the print was actually a bit longer, though the very back of it was faint. "Think it's some kind of bird, maybe?" A crash from deeper within the forest, and a blood-curdling animal shriek was issued and cut off far too suddenly. Sara blanched and was on her feet in an instant, hand on her knife, eyes wide, lantern held up to try and see -- but it was far too distant. Her hand shook visibly, blood turning to ice in her veins in a moment of sheer terror. She whimpered, barely audible even in the unnatural silence that followed. "Oh god, why did I come here?" Edited by Sara, Jul 18 2016, 01:35 AM.
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