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| The Groaning City; Open; cw: violence | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 25 2016, 07:14 PM (563 Views) | |
| Kist | Jun 25 2016, 07:14 PM Post #1 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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(Seriously, content warning for violence.) Kist and Briar had come to Madrid to seek out news of Briar's sister, but Kist had gotten totally distracted. She'd tried going around asking people at first, but she kept smelling all the flowers in bloom and, in the end, temptation proved too strong. It didn't take her long to transform into a moth and start flying from flower to flower to sample them all. There were just so many here, more than she'd ever seen in one place before. She buried herself in the deep, fragrant cups of the magnolias, probed the nectar spurs of the columbines that popped up in the street, crawled all over the flowering spurs of wisteria, alighted upon the gaudy moss roses, sank into the peonies – and so on. Though she should have been asking after the woman who used massive movements of water to put out a fire during the Battle of Madrid, Kist told herself that she was just keeping an eye out for the woman in the streets. She was flying all over the city this way, so if she was to be found, Kist would surely find her. That was good enough, right? The flowers were just so tantalising – the mountains of jasmine and morning glory, the coneflowers and mint! Without really being aware of it, the fluffy white moth travelled in a sort of spiral up the Capitol Hill. She was thus sort of surprised when she came across the massive black tree that spilled out of the ruins of the Guildhall like a leafy-headed Hydra. She flew in circles around it for a while, trying to understand the scope of the thing, but it was even harder when she was an insect. She landed on the tree's smooth black bark and scuttled across it, feeling the air with her antennae. By following the scents on the air, she discovered that the tree was also in flower: it had strange flowers, like tulip poplar flowers but way smaller, and white, like little stars. She didn't know what they were, exactly – but oh, that aroma! Kist crawled onto a big fat bunch of them and prepared to dip her proboscis in, but a face down in the plaza caught her attention. It was the round face of a young, short man, who craned his neck to look at the sprawling branches of the great tree. Kist thought she might be imagining things, especially since she was no good at recognising faces in her moth form. But, no, it just had to be him– that snub nose, the curly, dark hair, the creasy eyes and pointed ears and the dusty moth wings laid along his back– Kist fluttered down as fast as a moth can flutter and suddenly changed forms in front of him. It was as if Kist had exploded into being in mid-air. Any other person would have screamed in terror at so sudden an appearance, but Kist's brother, who had lived all his life in a faery town where such abrupt transformations were common, merely raised his eyebrows. "Who–" he said, but Kist interrupted him by throwing her arms around him and hugged him so hard that the rest came out as a desperate wheeze, "-are you?" Kist drowned him out with an excited squeal, "Cernunnos! It's me! Kist! I mean–" she drew away from him to show him her face, "It's Kestinella!" Cernunnos looked at her all agog, picking out in her face the features he recognised: the big, mischief-filled eyes, the long nose and the creases under her eyes that were so characteristic of the Hepialus family. She looked so different though: her hair was short, her face leaner, and she wore travel-worn pants and a shirt rather than the dresses their parents used to force on her. Her skin was so brown too, and her face, though currently filled with joy, seemed more worn than he could remember; it looked like she had seen some shit. Then there was the fact that, against the twilight gloom that was so constant in the blooming city, she seemed to glow, just a little. "Kestinella, holy hell!" he practically shouted, gripping her by her skinny shoulders, "What are you doing here?" "Looking for someone! It's a long story. What the hell are you doing here?" "I came to see–" "Fuck it, let's get a drink. Do you know anywhere good?" Cernunnos laughed convulsively. "If Ma and Pa heard you, and saw you...gods, I think they'd just die on the spot. Well, uh...I heard of one place with fancy mead. I think it was called The Gilded Lily? It might be a bit pricey though." Kist patted the purse at her hip to check its contents, and grinned to find it jingling. Of course, she could save it for something important, like food or lodgings or something, but, "What the hell, it's a special occasion." They chattered as they walked, occasionally stopping to asking directions from passersby, including a giggling satyr who waggled his eyebrows at Kist and a slender nymph whose beauty had Cernunnos all slack-jawed. Cernunnos told her about the goings-on back home, the most important of which was his own engagement. "Oh my gods!" shrieked Kist, scaring some doves out of a nearby tree, "Cern! Who is it?" Cern's brown eyes saw something far away and a dopey, adorable expression sat itself on his face. "Maja Thindon." "Who?" Kist scraped at the recesses of her memory. "Oh, her? She's alright, I guess." "She's great," said Cern dreamily. Other than that, they didn't really talk about anything important. It was as if they were saving up their serious subjects for the bar, where they could lubricate themselves and talk without so much distraction – for the streets of the New Madrid were very distracting. There were nymphs becoming trees, and trees becoming nymphs. There were gallivanting satyrs and chattering clouds of fairies and there were depressed Madrideans – original Madridean, who had stayed in the city for its fall – sitting on doorsteps, making dinner, singing drunkenly in the overgrown streets. Evening was coming on, and the forested city exhaled a beautiful perfume: the sweet, damp smell of greenery preparing itself for night. "This is so much better than what Madrid used to be," said Cernunnos. When they arrived at The Gilded Lily, Kist raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure we came here for the mead? This seems like a place for another sort of nectar." What had been a brothel under human rule was still a brothel under the forest's rule. However, it looked like some significant changes had been made. First of all, Kist doubted that there had been so much ivy before Méadaigh's rule. It ran up the walls and garlanded the magical lights, casting interesting shadows all over the parlour. Also, Kist doubted that there had been so many nymphs in the brothel's entourage. They were beautiful, fluttering about in gossamer or barely anything at all, cuddling up to their clients on couches and chaises while a bunch of them played flutes and harps and whatnot, mostly, it seemed, for the fun of it. It looked like some of the girls from before the takeover had stayed on – they seemed drab and sad in comparison to those lively, glowing nymphs, sulking as they did, with far-off looks in their eyes. Finally, there were two guards standing by the grand staircase that no doubt led to the private rooms. They were both female, and intimidating, wearing hardened expressions under their silvery helmets. Kist couldn't help but be amused, however, that even their armour had to be sexy: it didn't do much to cover them, more just decorated them in silvery swirls. No doubt the point wasn't in the armour so much as in the enchantments laid upon it, which would be stronger than regular armour anyways. Cernunnos' cheeks went ruddy as he looked around at all the half-naked women. "I swear, that's not what–" "Well, it looks like there's booze," Kist said, sauntering over to the bar and seating herself. "Do you have mead?" Kist asked the gossamer-draped nymph behind the counter. "We only have mead," said the nymph, leaning over at just the right angle for displaying her wares to them. Kist had to actively remind herself to look into the nymph's eyes as she went on talking in a ridiculously breathy voice, "Single-flower mead. The druidic beekeepers can commune with the bees and influence them to drink from one kind of flower, and that special honey is turned into our special mead." "Oh," breathed Kist, "That sounds amazing." The nymph prattled on for a while about how the beekeepers and the bees represented the perfect union between the natural and the sentient, or something, and Cernunnos had to remind her to list the different kinds of mead available. Kist wound up choosing the jasmine mead, and Cern picked the basil-flower mead. It was totally worth it. After the first sip, Kist said, "It's like the alcoholic version of being a moth." They chatted about that for a while, and then Cern finally asked what she had been doing in the eight years since she'd run away from home. Kist smiled and wondered how to lay out the twisted course of her life. After a few false starts, Kist found her way into the long story, from her early, fumbling attempts at living out in the world, to all the disasters she had found herself in. She related with pride the catching of Bitchface, the will-o'-the-wisp, proudly showing Cern the bottle she kept it in, and recounted, with fresh awe and terror, the life-changing incident with the Protector of the City of Oracles. Cern was most shocked, however, to hear of her adoption by Gozrik, for part of his devotion still laid in their parents. "They disowned me themselves, y'know," said Kist, starting to feel fairly drunk, "Tryna get me married an' all that. The didn't know who I was. Gozrik though, he does." She spoke sentimentally of her foster father, swelling with the warm rains of drunken emotion, and this seemed to appease Cern a little. She told him the story of Briar and his search for his sister (during which she finished her glass of magnolia mead and had to order another – this time rose) and thus circled back to, "So yeah...now I'm here." Finally, it struck her to ask, "So, wait, what're you doing in Madrid? I asked you but I never let you answer. Pffft." She laughed drunkenly, looked at Cern's flushed face, felt how good it was to be near her brother again, even though they'd not been too close before she had left. Yet she didn't wish for Serafim, who she had been closest with. It was him, Cernunnos Madrin Hepialus, who she hadn't even realised she had missed until she saw him again. "I came to see what Madrid's like now that it's been changed," said Cern, his eyes bright. "Isidore was in the fighting an' all and he sent a letter praising the city, sooo I came to see it myself. Ma and Pa are very excited. They said they'll come an' see it when I'm back to take care of the house." "Is it everything you thought it would be?" asked Kist, suddenly serious. She had liked the reformed city quite a bit, what with the plants and the single-flower mead and all, but she had her doubts, especially since her parents and horrible older brother were in favour of it. "I like it a lot!" said Cern, "It's beautiful now, part of the forest an' stuff, instead of eating away at it." "Ladies ain't bad either," said Kist, twisting around to survey the parlour. She watched a human man get led away by a pair of nymphs, who seemed to float on the air like butterflies. Kist felt a strange quiver in the pit of he stomach, or even through it, reaching down low... Cernunnos saw this too, and his cheeks, which were already like a pair of apples, grew even redder. "Yyyes, there's that," he said, but added stoutly, "But Maja has my heart." "Of course," said Kist, turning away from the pretty ladies, "So does that mean it's everything you hoped for?" "Well...It's still under construction, I suppose. And, really, I wish the Madrideans didn't look so sad. They're just moping around, or drunk, or–" "Maybe because their goddamn city was invaded," said Kist, sort of angrily, sort of miserably. "Yeah, there's that." They sat in silence for a moment. Kist stared into the honey depths of her glass, then broke the silence with, "So Ma and Pa were happy that the city was invaded? That Isidore helped? And you are too?" "Well," said Cernunnos, thoughtfully rotating his glass on the table, "Sometimes you gotta take extreme measures. Y'know, to cause change, change like stopping the suppression of the forest." "I just–" Kist struggled to bring her words together. "I mean, if the forest's first move was to kill people, who says it's a bad thing to have the forest suppressed?" Cern had a sour look on his face. "Think of all the killing that Sotoans do. You think that could be resolved peacefully? Nah." He took a swig of mead. "People'll realise it's better this way. Whenever a change comes there is of course a certain amount of nostalgia for the way things were before you realise that you like the new way better." "So when humans started being a thing and chopping up the forest and scaring the fae and stuff – isn't what the forest felt just nostalgia?" "We're just returning to the way things originally were – 'the Great Forest covered all.' That's what even the Sotoan myths say." "No, they say, 'Before this, there was nothing.'" Kist felt so invigorated she even slapped her hand on the table. "What's what's original, or so they say. So if original's automatically good, let's go back to nothing, right? Your argument's invalid." Cern grumbled. "Alright, so that's the wrong way to go about the argument. But still, I think it's better this way." "I know. I'm not tryna tear you down," said Kist, putting a hand on his arm, "I'm just tryna understand. I wanna believe that it's the right thing. But – look – what makes y'all so different from the Sotoans? Everyone's still livin' in a city and even though it smells like flowers and all doesn't mean people aren't shitting and being gross. You can prattle on about how we're not tearing up the forest now, but I don't believe it. People are still eating, right? Gotta kill to eat, even if you're just eating plants. I mean, even if all the nymphs only eat plants, that's like, cannabalism or something. It's still all fucked up, right? I mean, look, they're enslaving bees!" Kist held up her glass of rose mead. "So why isn't it just matter of who's on top? Why isn't this just the same shit, different ruler?" Cern meditated on this for a while. Kist looked around nervously, wondering if anyone, especially the barnymph, had been listening to her, but the barnymph was preoccupied with flirting with some sort of druidic character kinda far away from them. Looking around the room, she saw a nymph rose up and started walking towards them. Her important parts were just barely covered with garlands of ivy. "It's about the rapacity of it all," said Cern finally. "The rapacity?" "Yeah. The rapacity. The excess, the superfluous greed of Sotoan society–" The nymph inserted herself into the conversation, aiming herself particularly at Cernunnos. "You've been sitting here a while," she said, a lovely smile on her pale lips, "Are you shy? There's no need to be. Just ask, and ye shall receive." Cernunnos' eyes were practically popping out of his head, but he had admirable restraint. "N-no thank you. Just here for the famous mead." He held up his glass. The nymph pouted and turned her back to them, showing them her obscenely jiggling behind as she walked away. Kist had that feeling again – like her insides were water and someone was shaking the bowl. "Y'know, I'd mostly agree with you," she said, tearing her eyes away, "Except in some instances, like this one." They left soon after, both being somewhat drunk and unwilling to spend more money. They left talking of lighter subjects, with no plans as to where they would go next. Laughing, they went out the door and into the night, which was sweet and cool. Cern was saying, "So he gets real angry, like – red in the face angry. And he tells me to shove it–" when someone slammed open the doors, pushed Kist out of the way, and went shooting away. Kist caught a glimpse of curly black hair and – Kist shivered all over with horrible recognition – that face, it couldn't be– "Hey, wait!" she lurched into a run, leaving Cern behind. "Stop!" The girl – for she was sure it was a girl – didn't even look back, made to round a corner. "Wait!" First there was a sound, and heat. Then a great force threw Kist off her feet. Then she woke up on the cold, hard cobbles, seeing trees, leaves, cast against the brooding black sky. Where? Where am I? What happened? There was flickering light dancing on the leaves, made them look like fire – fire – Kist rolled her aching body over and saw a mass of light rising up into the sky. The building – the building was on fire, blown-out wreckage all up in flames. But there's people in there, she thought. Debris littered the street – bits of wood, all draped in smouldering ivy, the mountainous shapes of broken-up chairs, broken glass, and much more organic things. Bodies, she realised. Those were bodies. Kist struggled to get up, her head spinning horribly. She remembered she had been here with somebody, somebody important. Gotta find him. She was too weak, her head hurt so. She could only crawl on her hands and knees, and even then her limbs shook. She set her sights on the nearest organic lump, dragged herself towards it bit by bit. It was so hard to see in this light that she did not recognise him until she was right next to him – and she had to recognise him by only half of his face, because that was all that was left. Kist could feel herself scream, but her ears were too injured to hear it. Cern's body had been ripped apart by the explosion; it was ruptured, it was slick, but still she gathered him close, willing him to be alive. By screaming his name she might somehow be able to wake him, even though his legs were gone, even though his insides were trailing, spread on the ground like a skirt. It could not be, it simply could not be. He had his whole life ahead of him. He was going to be married. Movement caught her eye and she looked up, falling silent. Somehow, two figures were running from the wreckage of the brothel. It was the guards. They were coming to help her, they would come in fix this. They were very in charge, they'd know what to do. Kist cried out to them, her face streaming with tears, her mouth emptily forming pleas for help. Her fingers were wet, her shirt was soaked and rank. The women looked very angry. They were charging right at her. Kist didn't realise something was wrong until the moment before it happened: they snatched Kist up by her armpits, they shouted in her ears and she could just barely hear them from far, far away. "You did this! You rat! You'll die for this!" Kist struggled, kicking and flailing and heaving, but they had an iron grip on her. They beat her, they gripped her by her wrists and hauled her away, leaving Cernunnos Madrin Hepialus behind. "It wasn't me!" shrieked Kist, "It wasn't! Gods! Oh, gods! I swear, I swear it on the gods, it wasn't me! Please! My brother – I wouldn't kill my brother! I don't want my brother to be dead!" The reality she had been fighting against welled up in her, rose from her stomach up her throat. She vomited, blubbered it down all over herself, and it wasn't regurgitated honeywine but something thick and black. It moved, lifted itself up and swarmed all over her, separated into a tide of spiders and cockroaches and beetles. Kist howled sobs of desperation, fighting the iron grip of the guards as the insects swarmed under clothes, and all over her face, in her hair– "Help! Help!" she screamed, staring around for a saviour. Oh gods, they were getting into her mouth– "Help me! Please!" |
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| Pheonitia | Jul 7 2016, 10:25 AM Post #2 |
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Two years, no more, no less, while her time away had been longer than two years for the world she had only been gone for two. Only? Apparently it only took a moment for change to come and the land that once she took shelter in, one she had worked in alongside with an alchemist of old age. Maybe he was gone. In fact most of what she knew was gone, reshaped, owners of the past now ghosts on the street, mankind had lost a battle and now they suffered the oppression of defeat. Nothing new, she too had seen empires rise and fall back in her world, she had seen the cruelty of the victorious, and the misery of the losers, how history is written to embellish those who had triumphed while others were reduced to scum. She was not sad by what had happened, she was surprised, and somewhat disappointed to see that both her world and this shared many similarities, and not the best kind. Still, the disappointment was short lived, because the initial blow had stunned but the truth was no something unseen, there are all kinds of power hungry people, and they are followed by a trail of corpses. It is up to people like her to make sure that the body count is not as big, until her body too would fall prey to them. Such is the fate of those that dare to challenge overwhelming odds, and face unstoppable forces, for now though Pheonitia simply contemplated her last few days. Her arrival at Madrid was not met with smiles and friendly faces, no, each of her smiles was meet with scorn, as if she was the sole reason for many years of misfortune under the rule of man. Now under a new rule will man band together and reclaim what was theirs once more, would this turn into a never ending cycle of war? Consumption of life? As Pheonitia trekked the hostile streets she tried to shrug this feelings off, and at one point someone tried to have a go at her satchel, but was promptly greeted with a submission technique, and in response for attacking one of their own the streets turned on her. She was quick on her feet and a few well-placed jumps and grabs sent her to the roofs, and even if some could fly she had wings in her own way and soon shook her pursuers off. The city was big enough to get lost into or get lost in it, she had no desire to let it be the latter, and her persona reemerged on the other side of town. Most people did not want her around though, and even less have her help or show kindness, due to reasons such as these she lurked, tried to gain information and maybe she would cross the border over Morrim. The question was how to do it? She could do it by force and dare to face the forest that did not seem to welcome those that trekked along its grounds, or maybe she could get a boat and take it up stream and across the border. So she sat on top the now familiar rooftops, feet dangling while she ate another madalena, those she loved so much and would miss dearly once they were gone. She had to admit the city was prettier now than it had been before, from the smells to the landscape, maybe this change was for the better but something kept nagging her that this won’t do, that this would bring further chaos among nations, the arid lands up north had never been ones for peace. Though she was clueless as to what had happened in Ashoka in the last two years, but Morrim seemed like the best place to escape into for the time being. Or it could very well be that purpose could be found in Madrid, but that was an off chance as she exhaled and sucked on her greasy thumb, Pheonitia could eat another but she rather save them for later. Her relaxing moment and pensive states were instantaneously interrupted by not only the loud sound of an explosion but also by the sight of fire, the woman stood in awe for a short moment but quick shook the inertia off her body and mind. Someone’s probably hurt, got to move quickly. Shoes only scraping the roofs, as if she was flying as quick as she could, and then jumping from higher to lower roofs until she landed with a roll on the ground level. People gathered, children hiding behind their parents, their heads peeking unsure what they might see but curious enough to abandon the parental protection. Others opened windows, ran to the streets, in one instant the city was at peace and the next it was thrown into disarray. People looked and looked but none dared to go near, with the exception of the one pushing through the crows, jumping over them were she had to. The priority was to save people, the first one she found was a nymph sitting on the ground, back against a wall, bleeding from the ears. Pheonitia did not even try any difficult form of communication, gestures would do, hand lit by the yellow flame, a thumb up and a nod and she would mend what she could, as best as her ability would allow. Soon the nymph had regain strength to the body once more and walked away with a thank you, Pheonitia smiled a nodded, maybe there was hope in Soto. It was only as she got up that the sounds of an altercation reached her ears, someone screaming violently in despair, she glanced at fire and fire glanced into fire once more, she knew this commotion was within ear distance. Fire she had plenty, bouncing from flame to flame until she caught sight of it, backtracking the path she rushed to aid the one that called out for someone, anyone, and Pheonitia would fall into that category. What expected to see she already knew, although the words she only caught wind of what was shouted, not of what had been spoken, it was a tricky situation as she now stood before the two guards and the one held captive in their arms. Future uncertain but the present demanded action and she hopped they could listen, communication could not fail her now. – Hold it! I beg of you to let that woman go. Whatever the deal is, I’m sure it can’t be more important to saving the lives of the ones still trapped inside. Restrain her if you must, do what you wish to do when the time is right, but for now calm down and think, we have lives to save. I pray you listen to reason. – Thoughts ushered through the magic that surrounded her, nature was strong here, but until the others responded she had no way of knowing if her prayers would be answered to. Just to be safe she stood her ground, and closed her fists, steady gaze towards the two guards, when all reason failed and words could not deliver peace Pheonitia would speak through her fists. |
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| Kist | Sep 7 2016, 05:33 PM Post #3 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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The guards had seen the girl who blew up the brothel, but they had only caught a glimpse of her as she ran out. She was short, she had dark hair and pointed ears and, when she glanced over her shoulder at them, she had an impish face. Then she was gone and, before they had a chance to even go after her, the brothel blew up around their ears and they only survived because of the enchantments on their otherwise insufficient armour. They were convinced that the girl in their possession was the girl who had done it, for they did look alike. A red-haired woman stepped in front of them and spoke in a strong voice, demanding that they helped the wounded. The two guards stopped, anger running through their twin bodies like a vibration. The vomitous girl they held between them struggled to be free, screaming, "I didn't do it! I swear I didn't do it! Help me! They're crazy!" She was being too loud, so the right-most twin sent a powerful jolt of electricity into her body. Kist yelped and then went silent, shaking with shock. "You are right," said the guard, her voice completely bland with no admission of guilt, "But one of us must stay with the culprit, lest she escape with the help of some accomplice." She shot Pheonitia a glare from under her ornate helm. "I will go, sister," said the other, "You can watch her." "Let's take her further away first and then bind her." Together they dragged Kist away, ignoring the newcomer, and they eventually settled on keeping her in a narrow alleyway. Together they recited a short incantation and vines burst from beneath the brickwork and wrapped around Kist's limbs and body. The girl struggled, weeping uncontrollably for her lost brother, but the guards simply ignored her. Then the one left, while the other stood over Kist. The one who was leaving said to Pheonitia, "Well, are you going to help? It sounded like you wanted to." Without really waiting, she plunged indifferently into the flames, immune to the heat and the smoke because of the protections on her armour. Meanwhile, Kist had fallen silent. Shock had taken over again, and nothing seemed real. She thought little and knew very little, just that she somehow had to escape. She stared up and down the alleyway from her position on the ground and surreptitiously tested the vines the bound her. They held her tight. The one end of the alleyway was, of course, blocked by the guard lady, but the other – if someone should walk past, maybe she could cry out. There had to be some way out of this; she couldn't accept the idea of what would happen if there wasn't. |
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| Pheonitia | Oct 12 2016, 11:23 AM Post #4 |
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Please don’t fight me, please don’t fight me, please don’t fight me. Regardless of her entrance and how she made it a point to stand her ground, the red haired had little to no wish to fight, not these two and if at all possible not anyone. Wishful thinking she had to admit, sooner or later she would have to make use of her strength to solve a problem, but she would be a bigger fool if she never attempted using her wit to solve them first. Pheonitia was in no way comfortable with the situation as a whole, and as the girl in the guards arms screamed and kicked she felt sorry for the faery, but alas the greatest liars she had encountered in her life appealed to her good side just as much as this girl. Regardless how she felt this one they had caught could very well be culprit to a scenery of gruesome brush strokes. Discretely she exhaled, a sigh of relieve left her as one of the guards reluctantly admitted she was right, that there was something else more pressing, much more important that pining blame. Lives were at stake and what would more important than saving those? In her vision, nothing and in a way or another her vision must have been matched by those she called out for. She produced a small smile and palms came together in prayer, her head bowing ever so slightly in respect of the decision taken, her body now relaxed and in a way at peace in such a dire situation. There was this sense of hostility she still felt, that or she was being too negative in her outlook and maybe because of it she respected the space the others sought out for themselves, they would restrain the prisoner and keep her guarded. She could go by that, so while they went about to do it she took the opportunity to scout. Once more she gazed into the fire, until she was one with the source of heat, be it big or small as long as the flame was lit it could serve as her eyes. She bounced her spell from flame to flame, she knew there had to be people in there that would still be alive, as big as the explosion had been the fact that some part of the building was still standing made her believe there was hope. There was, one by one she found them, a man with his leg trapped would be struggling a lot more if not for the fact that life in him was fading. Another man was stranded in the middle of flames, arms open in despair as he tried to shield from the flames a child, a small girl that was curling up amongst herself praying for salvation. She saw two more, a man and a woman, bellow the rumble the man was caught and the woman not wanting to give up struggled to save him. In her sad vision she realized the probabilities that they could get out everyone with as little people they had were slim, and so they had to prioritize and hope they could get out everyone still, and while she continued to look out for anyone else she heard something, it was one of the guards. She blinked many times, but by the time she had come to her senses the other was already rushing in. Her magical form was a memory of the past, as much as she still felt fixated on fire, no matter how much she loved it, fire burned, smoke would choke her, going into the flames was deadly, but survival chances were good, this was not some suicide mission. Pheonitia just had to remain careful, least be engulfed in fire or trapped by falling debris, and not a moment after she too jumped into the hellish domain. Her lungs immediately protested this course of action, she knew it would be so, but fire had not only helped her locate those in need of assistance, she also got to know the layout of the place, in and out was the plan, she got this. Now if only she could share information with the other, should be easy, if they listened to her mind whispers before, this one could still listen to her now, if she could see her it would be easier to determine how much energy she would have to use to communicate. Alas that was not the case so maxed out her limit to communication as she whispered into the mind of all of those keen enough to be able to listen. – On the second floor, there is a man with a leg trapped, I think with your help he can be set free. Meet me on the bottom floor, by the counter to see if we can help out a man under debris. – With a bit of luck the guard had been the only one that had listened in, she rather not antagonize people as she prioritized someone over another, and that was also the reason why she tried to be as vague as possible. Eventually she made way to those caught in a ring of flames, was this really the smart choice? She was not immune to fire, but then again it would probably be just as hard to lift burning debris off anyone. It was getting hot, breathing was starting to ache, she had to be quick about it and conserve oxygen as best she could. – I’m here to help, please stand back as further to the wall as possible. – She asked, and hoped they could listen. She mustered up all her strength to pick up a broken table, it had but two feet left, but it would serve as shield so she could get across. It was far heavier than she had hoped it would be, solid wood as it seemed, she was big though and it was only for a brief moment, so without hesitation she plunged into that burning inferno. Emerging on the other side she found the little girl crying over the fallen man, trying to shake him into life, he had been standing, smoke got to him and as she knelt the girl looked into her eyes as Pheonitia grew worried. Moments later fingers pressed against the man’s neck would confirm the grim outcome, and the red haired outworlder slowly shook her head, denial, cries, protests emerged within the girl, and exteriorized but there was only one thing she could do. – Can you hear me? – No response, the girl could not listen to her and Pheonitia could not avoid a small frowning expression, this was not going to be easy. To convince one without the aid of words, was a challenge, but not an impossibility. Placing a hand over the girls should she shook her head, she might not be human but surely they could understand when someone was beyond saving? The denial continued, and Pheonitia pressed on since time was not their friend, she insisted, held the girl’s arm, pulled on it, eyes begged understanding, as sad as it all was there was nothing they could do for the fallen one, not even save the body, fire would claim it shortly and if they lingered any longer it would claim them too. One way or the other she was going, and she picked up the table once more and looked at the girl, gave her back to the other and she looked as serious as Pheonitia could be. One way or the other. Emerging on the other side Pheontia had the girl in tears holding onto her neck with her arms, and onto her hips with her legs, her shirt felt moist of tears but at least one was safe. Safe was probably an overstatement, fire worked far too quickly, she briefly scouted if the exit she had envisioned before was still there as the table fell on the floor. The smoke, the heat, claiming her slowly she had to get out of there, it’s still there. She was in luck and in mere seconds both of them were out of the flames and into the street air. Collapsing to her knees she coughed, it would have been easier if people were not as emotional when it was obvious they could not do anything about a situation. Her lungs still burned, by now more people seemed to have gathered, she just needed a few breaths of fresher air. At least two more needed her help, or their help. Eyes burned, she scratched them and got up, one more, at least one more before the building would meet its end, just one more. She gave the girl one last look, she really felt sorry for her, but hers was not the only tragedy on this day, and if she could help it, there would be one less. Plunging back into the fire Pheonitia hoped she could meet up with the other guard and maybe, just maybe help the man under debris, but also at the back of her mind one thing lingered. The culprit! If it had been the one that had kicked and screamed, then she should be responsible for her actions, this was too sad, an utterly evil thing to do. |
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| Kist | Feb 13 2017, 08:36 PM Post #5 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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(Sorry this took so long! I don't know what happened to me!) As the two darted in and out of the fire, carrying out what survivors they could, Kist laid on the cold cobblestones, her desperate eyes trained on the end of the alleyway. There was a chance – there had to be a chance – that some kind soul would walk by and listen to her pleas. Soon enough, a pair of silhouettes appeared at the end of the alleyway. Kist screamed, "Help! Help! She's holding me prisoner!" just to receive a sharp kick to the ribs. The silhouettes hesitated for the briefest moment, and then rushed on. They squeezed past her, their shoes pounding right by her face. Already they were crying out names – evidently they had been drawn this way by the fire, thinking that their loved ones werei n jeopardy. Once they were gone, the guard woman swooped down and lifted Kist up with one strong, tan arm. She slammed Kist against the wall so hard the breath left her lungs. Gasping, with stars bursting in her eyes, Kist was barely able to comprehend the guard saying, "Scream again and I'll break your skinny neck faster than you can say 'I'm innocent.'" With that she let Kist drop and stood aside as the girl began to cry again as if avoiding a worm on the sidewalk. Soon enough, Méadaigh's fire-fighting forces arrived on the scene: powerful mages and naiads who shot powerful jets of water at the building to quench the flames. Accompanying them were more female guard-types, who were admittedlmore well-covered than their brothel-employed brethren, and a contingent of healers who swept down on those wounded who laid out in the street. Most took the main roads, but there was a group of three guards that marched up the alleyway. Upon seeing the scene taking place there – Kist tied up and helpless on the ground, now too deep in despair to cry and the woman standing over her – they stopped. "What is this, Okaia?" said a strong, harsh voice. "The perpetrator. We saw her escaping the scene shortly before the explosion. I am waiting for Brindr to return before we decide what to do with her." Wishing that she could protesting her innocence, but knowng that she could die for it, Kist began to sob again. By now the sound of it was a mere rasping in her throat. "Well, it is good that you caught her. Is that not Brindr coming now?" A pause, then Okaia said, "Yes, it is. And that strange woman as well." "Who?" "The one with the red hair. She decided to help out, Goddess knows why. Looks like she made it through the fire alright. Maybe she wants to help with this too." "Well, we'll let you get on with it," said the harsh voice at last. Then the group marched off, leaving Kist to the mercy of Okaia, Brindr, and this mysterious arbitrator. |
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| Mairead | Feb 16 2017, 05:01 AM Post #6 |
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I reject your reality and substitute my own.
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One of the guards lingered, which earned a sharp tone from the leader as they prepared to march away from the trio. More guards have joined up, expanding the group to nearly a small contingent. They looked with budding interest at the exchange. "Hey newbie!" Barked the leader. "Get movin'!" Frown lines of annoyance crossed Mairead's forehead. She raised her nose in the air, as an upper-class born and bred would and snapped back. "I have no further use for you, peasants, be off!" A harsh retort hung at the tongue of the male leader who towered over Mairead's petite frame. His men were watching. There was no way he would live this down if he let a small woman talk him down. He wouldn't hear the end of it, he just won't. The small woman stared straight at him unflinchingly, blue eyes challenging. Then they softened. Mairead reached to grasp of pouch of her silver coins, then held it out to the leader. "We part now for I have business in these parts," said Mairead, trying to keep the usual haughtiness out of her tone. "And bid you and your men drink well tonight." The leader was almost relieved. His men would not say no to pints tonight now would they? The newcomer had just offered him a face-saving way out. Still .... Putting on a pretense of exasperation, he grabbed the coin pouch and gestured his troops to march away, which they did. "I thank thee and bid thee farewell," said he in a placating manner, before following his men. Resting her hands on the Brass Blades, Mairead gazed a while at the parting forms, before turning her attention to Kist and Okaia. The burning embers left by the fire flickered at the edges of her twin blue orbs. She had attempted to call her powers of water earlier to put out the inferno, but quickly thought against it. This was, after all, a different dimension, and elements that fared so well in her home world may react unpredictably in this world. Which reminded her, pointedly, that she was in need of 'allies', or at the very least, "news" sources. "Greetings," she said finally, looking to Kist and Okaia. "Why is this girl on the floor?" ~~~~~ "She is suspected of arson," spat the guard-woman. "And likely responsible for the fire. Must I repeat myself every time!" Mairead gave a thoughtful glance at the gagged Kist. Any wrong move and she might alleviate the girl's situation, though the last thing Mairead wanted was a fight. She had not been there to watch Kist, being busy with tossing water into the fire with the others, and could not be certain of the girl's innocence. The guard-woman could be merely doing her due diligence by restraining a would-be arsonist. Deciding, she turned to Okaia and trying to keep her voice reasonable. "Perhaps we could let her up, but keep her restrained, while we wait for Brindr?" Mairead's hands sub-consciously grasped the hilts of her Brass Blades tighter. Should negotiation fail, she thought. Edited by Mairead, Feb 17 2017, 10:14 PM.
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| Pheonitia | Mar 10 2017, 04:48 AM Post #7 |
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The smoke soon became too overwhelming for her, little by little she could feel its effects consuming her mind, body, her reactions were starting to lag, the task too difficult. Her aura burned bright, it helped at first but now the exhaustion of the spirit was making the physical exhaustion that more apparent, and as help came she decided it was enough, no good would come from her collapsing inside a burning building. Without any clue where the other guard was, Pheonitia stepped out, took a few deep breaths even if the air outside was still smoky it was a big difference, and then she noticed, those that came to help, mages and people alike, focused on putting out the fire. This is good, they can handle it now… I’ve done my part. She ignited her aura until she could not do it anymore, and some damage was healed, the remaining would have to follow nature’s course and heal over time. She stood up straight, and her eyes watches as the embers flew into the air, she saw the effort of those that wanted to put out the fire and was glad she could have gotten some out of there. With rest her mind traveled to far more interesting topics than her own welfare, they went to the why this had happened. Remembering the girl, she closed her fist until her knuckles turned white, she was mad, after being inside, it made her mad. Why would someone do this? All of her wanted to get to the bottom of it, but figured she would best wait for the other guard so they could understand if indeed they had the culprit apprehended. One exchange of looks later and she was following the one that aided her into the side alley, friendliness did not become these people, but that was alright. As she dove in, Pheonitia realized that a bigger crowd now wanted to get to the bottom of the situation. Much like those that joined in the fight of the fire, here too there were new people, far too many people, but then again it was a major explosion, maybe they thought they were under attack? Pheonitia entertained that idea for a while, but above all she wanted to listen in before jumping to conclusions and simply made herself aware to those around her with a bow and a simple introduction. – Greetings everyone, I’m Pheonita and if you’d let me I’m here to help. – Considering what she saw thus far everyone seemed proficient in one way or another when it came to the magical arts, the message should get across to everyone. Whether they allowed her presence there or not, that was a different subject, she would have to wait and see. |
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| Kist | Mar 23 2017, 04:36 PM Post #8 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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Someone else had come. Through a haze of grief and pain Kist saw a new pair of shoes, heard a new voice. The words that the newcomer and her guard exchanged meant nothing. Though she knew each word on some level, they did not connect into sentences. From her low position, she began to see that people were gathering at the end of the alleyway. No doubt they wanted to see justice served. She had no doubt they would get it. Okaia's face showed no change in expression. "No," she said with brutal frigidity, "I'd rather leave her there. Don't want to give her the chance to run away. Besides, Brindr is coming now." The red-haired woman returned first, however. She made a bow and introduced herself as Pheonitia. Beneath her helm, Okaia raised an eyebrow. What did she expect – a cozy little meeting where everyone shook hands and introduced themselves? Seeing Brindr shoulder her way through the crowd, Okaia said, "Well, if you're so eager to help, how about you see whose claim is more righteous and just?" Brindr nodded, "Good idea. You can help us decide what to do with this scum." The last word she spat out with great vindictiveness. After all, she had known the women in that brothel, she had cared for them. She felt their deaths like a keen knife and she felt the offense to Méadaigh's reign like an additional blow to the stomach. Okaia turned her panther-like eyes on Mairead. "You can help too. You two will be the jury. Got it?" At this, Brindr hauled Kist up off the ground by the back of her shirt. The girl was too injured and worn to make a sound. She lolled weakly, her legs too tightly-bound to fully support her, and so hung there like some morbid puppet, suspended by Brindr's tanned, muscular arm. Brindr's eyes widened as she noticed the wings on Kist's back. "By the Goddess," she said, her voice betraying shock, "You're a faery. Why would you do something like this to your own kin? Méadaigh is on your side and you – you –" "I didn't do it!" mewled Kist pitifully. Okaia clearly knew how to read her sister's intentions before they happened, for she said, "Please, no more abuse until we know that she's at fault." "We saw her do it!" Brindr couldn't help but shout. "Yes, we did," said Okaia to the crowd at large. "There are – were – security spells on the brothel. We heard that there was a breach in the store room and went in to see what it was. It was her, clear as day, setting up some..device. With some spell. Before we could stop her, she had set it off and run away. Then it went off, and this is what happened." She gestured at the burning brothel with a wide sweep of her arm. "I wasn't – I didn't...I was sitting with my brother, and we left and...and..." The words tumbled out of her like water, yet she was unable to open her eyes to the crowd gathering around. She shook her drooping head. "Why did you come to Madrid?" asked Okaia coldly. "I came with Briar, we're looking for his sister–" "And where's Briar, huh?" asked Brindr, shaking Kist like a disobedient puppy, "Nowhere to be found. Where's your so-called brother?" "Dead!" cried Kist, and broke down into sobs. "How convenient," said Okaia dryly, "Her only alibi is dead." "It was you we saw," said Brindr with conviction, "How could it be anyone else?" Kist choked out little husks of sobs. "Well?" said Okaia, looking between Mairead and Pheonitia, "What do you think? A likely story?" |
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| Mairead | Mar 25 2017, 02:54 AM Post #9 |
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I reject your reality and substitute my own.
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Mairead's eyes swiveled to and fro as Okaia and Brindr bantered between themselves. She found her grip on the sword hilts relaxing slightly; Kist was in no immediate danger, for the moment. The diminutive faery elicited concern within the forger. The illumination afforded by the fading flames have granted Mairead a chance to study the fae being. Kist had a child-like appearance. A twinkle of playfulness dwelt in those luminous brown eyes, even in her condition, though now they have become wet with distress. Curly brown hair capped her roundish head in a hobbit-fashion, similar to those cheerful imps back in her home dimension, Mairead recalled with fondness. Greetings everyone, I’m Pheonita and if you’d let me I’m here to help. A newcomer had appeared. By contrast to the faery, she was a tall-ish woman with sharp features. She had a commanding presence, though her voice was cordial. 'The guards would listen if she spoke,' thought Mairead. 'And so would I.' "Well?" said Okaia, looking between Mairead and Pheonitia, "What do you think? A likely story?" The forger's eyes snapped to attention. 'Diffuse the tension with official-sounding speech,' she told herself. "I'm in favour of freeing her, at least while we don't have any alibi, or hard evidence. We have fae beings where I come from, and I am well-versed at dealing with them. I shall watch over her and if she gets into trouble on my watch, I shall personally hand her over to the bailiff." With that, she looked to the tall woman. |
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| Pheonitia | Mar 28 2017, 11:05 AM Post #10 |
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Her introduction was met with silence, and she did her best not to furrow brows, after all she had met with many distrust before. Now seemed it would be no difference, but rose her head and dared not show weakness, instead she watched and listened carefully. It became clear that the girl had been harmed in between then and now, once more she forced herself not to let her body reveal judgment, and slowly let her hands rest behind her back. Pheonitia, looked at those around her and heard the story the two guards had to say, they seemed very convinced that they indeed saw the girl. The girl protested and deep inside she wanted to believe that those words were true, but sometimes it’s not about what we want, it’s about what it is. When the spotlight was aimed at the two of them, those appointed jury, before she could say a word the other had intervened. This woman had been firmly griping the hilt of her sword, from time to time, maybe it was a habit, maybe it was something else. Pheonitia would listen and even nod to certain statements made by the other, while at others she refrained from showing an agreement to, or lack thereof. Didn’t matter much as this woman focused on her attention towards Pheonitia and for a moment she contemplated in silence. - I agree that there is a lack of… hard evidence for the time being to hold someone accountable, but on the lack of any we have only the statements to rely upon. Difficult situation. – She paused once more, and one hand rose, a finger extended and after tracing the bridge of her nose in ponder she resumed. – Maybe someone else can attest to the suspects alibi. There were survivors and bystanders, were they not? If the suspects brother was indeed killed there should be a body to proo… - Reminded that there was probably no way to confirm identity in this world she shook her head. – No, decision should not be done until all the evidence has been gathered, but I feel it would be premature to simply let our suspect roam free, even if in custody of another. Far too unpredictable. After all, the two guards seem very certain from the beginning of who and what they saw, and theirs is the most likely story, if only just a story. She nodded and once more she held both hands behind the back and added. – Though I feel that physical abuse is not going to shine light to any truth. – She looked back at the other woman, maybe her reasoning would not warrant her any friendships but hopefully it would allow for a fair shot at justice for everyone. |
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| Kist | Apr 26 2017, 02:44 PM Post #11 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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(Sorry it took me so long to reply, I couldn't decide for a while what should happen next.) Brindr cut in after Mairead spoke, "What, and let her run practically free? How do we even know we can trust you, human?" She drew breath to say more but Okaia held up her hand to indicate that she should stop, for now Pheonitia had something to say. "What good would a body be? She could pick any one of them to represent her brother." "We couldn't even tell if it was a faery or what, probably," said Brindr darkly, "Have you seen the state of the dead out there? Missing their limbs, their faces, blown to bits..." Kist's sobs grew louder. Speaking over her, Okaia said, "Well, look, there's nothing to be done. We should imprison her until we can take the case to Méadaigh." "Do you think Méadaigh has the time for this?" interjected Brindr, "Let's take it to the triumvirate, or just deal with it now. Honestly I doubt the druids have the time either." "Ugh," said Okaia, pinching the bridge of her nose, "What a mess. There's no protocol for any of this. Where are we to put her until we find the druids? Méadaigh said that the old prisons are to be of no use." "Look, who else could have done it? We should just deal with her now, get it over with. We can worry about protocol and 'what should be done' when we're not at war." And so they argued. Kist stopped listening soon enough, thinking instead that, If I can tell them who actually did it, they might let me go. Her brain was buzzing, and as she tried to recall what had happened, her first image was of Cern's bomb-blasted skin, his wet corpse lying in her arms. Unnoticed, she shuddered and wretched, but nothing came out. Think back, she thought, trying to force her way through the numb wall of hissing fog that kept her from her memories of the Before. Think back. They had been sitting at the bar, the mead had been sweet on her lips, they had been served by a woman wearing so little it left nothing to the imagination...Then after that they had been walking out of the brothel, and someone rushed out, shoving them aside– Kist's stomach flopped like a fish on land. She had seen – but it couldn't be. But she had run after, for she thought she had seen herself. For a moment it was clear: her own impish face looking over her own shoulder, surrounded by black curls. Then Kist questioned herself, and the image disintegrated. That can't be, she told herself, I'm just thinking that because they told me that it was me. Still, it was something. She collected herself, and said, amidst the hubbub of argument, "I saw her." She clearly hadn't spoken loud enough, for Brindr said, "What? Speak up!" and shook her vigorously. Trying to place a little more weight on her feet, trying to stand up on her own a little and look more confident, Kist said, "I saw her. I know why you were confused. She had hair like mine, at least. She might have looked a bit like me. She was a faery, I think. I don't know. I only saw her for a moment. She was running past as we were walking out, and something seemed wrong so I ran after her. But Cern...Cern didn't." A silence followed her words. Brindr still glared at her with suspicion, but Okaia made a gesture of her hand that caused the vines around Kist's legs to loosen a little so she could stand on her own. "Well," she said, "We must search for a person like this then." She turned to the crowd of spectators. "Go, all of you. Look for someone who looks like her but isn't her." Some ran off immediately, some – especially humans – lingered reluctantly. "Look, do you want to do your civic duty or not?" Okaia asked the lingerers, "Do you want to avenge this atrocity? If not, I'll make sure the correct authorities know of your reluctance." So the rest scampered off, and Okaia shot the two "jurors" a glance that told them they should stay. "If this person exists," grumbled Brindr, "She's probably long gone by now." Okaia ignored her. "Good, there's some of our fellows coming now. I'll go tell them to search as well. They'll be more effective than civilians." She trotted off. Kist slumped against the wall of the alleyway, relieved to have found herself some narrow path to freedom. They might just find her, they just might, and then she would be let go and she could leave this city and never look back. If they didn't...She shot a look at the two interlopers, whose names she had not picked up due to their distress. A brown-haired woman and a red-haired one. She tried to communicate her innocence to them with her eyes – could they really think she would murder her own brother? |
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| Mairead | Apr 30 2017, 05:36 PM Post #12 |
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I reject your reality and substitute my own.
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Mairead listened to Pheonitia's reasoning with a nod. The logic seemed sound. She hoped the guards would take the 'physical abuse' part to heart, even if they did not free the faery. Vaguely, Mairead wondered how the red-haired woman spoke the length of words she just did without moving her lips. Possibly a ventriloquist, decided the forger. In any case, she was glad the situation did not come to blows. "I saw her." Mairead startled at this new development. Okaia gave her a glare that indicated she should stay, as she commanded search parties to go look for the other, possible, perpetrator. Well, as long as she stayed, thought Mairead, and if the rules of 'innocent until proven guilty' held fast - though she was uncertain of the rules that govern this dimension - she felt reasonably certain she would be free to speak with the potential convict. As long as she made no apparent moves to free her. Of course, she could be wrong. And a metal-clad toe might find its way to Mairead's face as she stooped to Kist's level to investigate. Physical abuse had always been a part of Mairead's life, she thought gloomily, another kick to her body would make no difference. But the child-like faery seemed utterly helpless where she was bound; that went far worse. At least, the forger always had her freedom. Hands leaving her Blade hilts, Mairead placed a hand on her bended knee and another on the curly hair of Kist's head. The little one looked at her with large desperate eyes, as if trying to communicate innocence – or to trick them all. "Are you alright?" asked Mairead. |
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| Pheonitia | May 3 2017, 08:39 AM Post #13 |
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Of course, they would nit-pick, wouldn’t they? They were right to though, no way to make a proper test a confirm who was who, in fact she suspected there would be many families with no real body to burry. It was gruesome, all the more pressing to find the culprit but in her view, in the interest of justice, not vengeance. Speaking of view, the guards had different points of it, one, was more on the side of getting things done, law a distraction to a swift justice served for those killed, no wonder the faery looked bruised when she was guarded by this woman. The other, no doubt about it, an uploader of good, like she, the woman too went into fire to rescue out the lucky few, and Pheonitia was glad to have a person like her in this situation. As well as she liked to company of the other juror, even if she thought they were a bit naïve in a sense, but their heart in the right place. Also in the heart of it all was the suspect, did this girl, really did it? Hard to say, she feared the truth was out there but would not be found, maybe she should seek it. As all this went on her mind, her ears listened and eyes remained sharp but lingered in no one for longer than a few moments, she held an upright position, grace, she carried the grace her father bore into her. The words of the other came out of the blue, the suspect spoke clearly for once, her tongue was not shut by the angry guard this time around, the girl had seen something, or someone. At first her eyes widen in surprise, but soon Pheonitia’s eyes narrowed, was this the truth or a fabrication? Another version of the story was given and while one of the guards might have its patience running along the daggers edge the other was eager to believe the story, maybe due to doubts from within, maybe because the guard had saw something but was not confident enough to say that the suspect in hand was the person they saw indeed. A prompt search was warranted, and soon many dispersed to find a look-a-like of the suspect, Pheonitia would have gone too but silently they suggested her to stay. Not sure, not sure! This is a mystery I’m unsure I can solve. Certainly, not with what I have right now. I have… Her thoughts were cut shot as she felt the burning sensation when someone fixed their glare onto you, the girl, she begged with her eyes if such a thing was possible. The look was disarming indeed, for once the other juror released the blade’s hilt and approached the suspect. Pheonitia watched from above, there was something she could try. It would not prove anything to anyone, but it would give her some idea of who she was dealing with. So, with an idea brewing she too approached the suspect and kneeled. – I don’t know if you can hear me, but I don’t be afraid. – She added a reassuring nod, and hopped her expression would convey what her words did. From the tip of her fingers a yellow flame ignited, it spread along her fingers to her palm, as it grew to a decent sized flame Pheonitia approached her hand to one of Kist’s bruises. It slowly began to heal, superficially, the tenderness underneath would not heal so quickly. As the surface healed, Pheonitia withdrew her hand and attempted to contain a frown. Same as father… She’s a big unknown. This crime could be very well committed by one such as she, but then again… I don’t think evil holds domain over her. Best keep this information to myself. With that she diverted. – Where else does it hurt? |
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| Kist | Jun 1 2017, 08:51 PM Post #14 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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Brindr tensed when Mairead approached and watched her movements suspiciously, attuned to any attempts to release her prisoner. She seemed ready to strike Mairead away at any moment, but was withheld by a curiosity about what she might do next. Kist, meanwhile, met Mairead's eyes until she was asked if she was alright. She was too affected to make amusement of it, to sardonically, bitterly say, "Do I look alright?" This first display of sympathy merely came upon her like a springtime flood and swept her into another bout of tears. She dropped her head to her knees and made a faint movement as if to reach out, but withdrew her arms to clutch at herself. Her beswamped brain manufactured regrets. She had made them pity her, but why should they pity her? Why should they care? Would she be here if she hadn't done something wrong – whatever it was she had done wrong? Was she somehow responsible for this? She peered up just in time to see Pheonitia approaching, a flame in her hand. Kist instinctively recoiled, expecting more suffering. Then, thinking that she ought to have more suffering she held herself in place. However, the flame brought her an unexpected relief, erasing a pain which she did not know she had suffered. This erasure made her conscious of others pains which plagued her entire her body and troubled her brain, her heart, her spirit. Pheonitia asked her where else it hurt. It seemed too pathetic, too cruel, in a way, to say "Everywhere," so she merely rubbed her hands up and down her arms, her teeth showing between anguished lips. She was dirty, the blue glow of her skin muddied by the grime of the street, and her dark hair was grayed by ash. Brindr, catching on to what was happening, suddenly stepped forward, inserting herself between the jurors and the girl. "That's enough," she said harshly, "Enough of your pity." Her blade was suddenly in her hand, hanging down like a sliver of moonlight. "Do you really think it wasn't her? A girl who looks like her – a likely story! My sister will go searching half the city and find nothing." She stood for a moment, evidently brooding on something, an eye turned to Kist. The browned face beneath the helmet was furrowed with debate, then more deeply furrowed with a growing rage. "Do you know how many people were in there?" she said, her voice tight, "Do you know who was in there?" At the thought of who, her restraint snapped. She swooped down upon Kist and lifted her once more into the air, this time by the throat. With an incredible grip she held the struggling, kicking girl, staring her deep in the eye. "You!" she spat, eyes bulging, "You clung to a body and pretended it was your brother's!" Kist's mouth opened but all that came out was a rasping choke. "But do you know who I have lost? Lalela – gone forever! What is my life now? For whom shall I wake in the morning? Méadaigh?" Brindr's harsh laugh cut the night and she slammed Kist into the wall. "Not just her, but so many others, and for what? A statement? A bit of fun? Who are you? I have half a mind to end it here, damn the rest, damn Okaia, damn it all!" |
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| Melden | Jun 8 2017, 08:22 AM Post #15 |
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Mairead She sprang into action, a swift arm chopping Brindr’s elbow and freeing Kist from the chokehold while a Brass hilt simultaneously swung up to telekinetically push the enforcer away, lending the surprised woman on the ground three metres away. “Take her and run,” she pleaded to Pheonitia. Mairead prayed they would heed her words, knowing the place would soon be swarming with soldiers again in no time. It would undoubtedly be a grand melee the two (or three, if you counted the faery) could not hope to prevail. She hoped to buy time, at least, if they chose not to run, that the red-haired woman would tend to Kist while she sorted things out. “YOU WILL NOT!!!” Brindr screamed, drawing her axe. She leapt at Mairead, who back stepped to keep herself out of range. Having a slow weapon, the soldier’s next swing was quickly countered by a materializing Blade extension. The parry numbed the forger’s arm. The other Blade followed up the counter with a swing at Brindr’s chest, but a dull sound told her the woman’s armour had deflected the attack. Mairead was dismayed, though she could not blame the soldier. What had she lost? There was no time to think of it, as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She knew neither word nor logic could calm the grief-stricken woman down now. Perhaps she could wear her out. However, the immediacy of the trouble left her with one road only: to fight. The fighters traded blows, with neither finding an edge. Mairead was swifter, but having no armour, she kept moving to protect herself from harm – painfully predictably. Brindr was better-protected and a skilled veteran, though the blue-haired woman’s unexpected ambidexterity with her two Blades kept her on her heels. Suddenly, a gunshot broke the fight. Both fighters jumped apart to look at its source. Melden A guffaw erupted straight from the stomach, at once piercing, and at once seeming eerily unnatural in its interruption of what should have been a tense moment. All gazes snapped up to his position on the wall, naturally, as he knew they would. The woman with black and blue hair stared warily at his, at the moment, smoking revolver. The man kept pacing on atop a low-hanging aqueduct, perceptibly unbothered; not by the distressed individuals, nor his colleague’s pronouncement of her dead ... Lover? Friend? Who cares? “Spare me the theatrics,” said the man with a chuckle. His arm swept expensively. He leapt off the wall. “Assaulting an enforcer on duty. My, my… Aren’t you bold?” he drawled, black eyes locking on the swordswoman’s blue ones. Coldness emanated from his gaze. The woman was not looking at him, though, as her eyes remained affixed to the revolver. Her arms had instinctively raised. “I am Detective Melden Ellis,” he introduced, before commanding. “Drop your weapons!” Mairead bolted. The chase was on. The small one didn’t own a bunch of sprinting champ’s medals for nothing, mind you. Her legs pumped furiously as she tore through the cobblestone bridges and leapt over gaps of streams, running in zig-zags in anticipation of revolver bullets. It troubled her that she had not heard another gunshot, as she fully expected the man to fire at her legs, at least, to slow her down. How odd! She was halfway through a bridge when Melden caught her wrist, then lost his balance, in an over-eagerness to catch her. As he dangled off the side, he looked up at the swordswoman. Shocked, she tried to haul him up. But Melden grinned, and shook himself free. The woman stared transfixed as he plummeted to the abyss below, his last silhouette disappearing into the mist. “What?” the forger muttered numbly. “What?” she said again. She stood puzzled for a moment, then finally turned to walk away – and banged headlong into the brown trenchcoated chest of a tall-built man. “Hullo, again,” came Melden’s familiar sing-song voice, followed by the audible click of restraining cuffs. ‘How did he…’ was Mairead’s last thought as the detective hauled her in a beeline to the bailiff’s office. Edited by Melden, Jun 8 2017, 11:15 AM.
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| Pheonitia | Jun 9 2017, 03:11 AM Post #16 |
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Well she could have seen this coming, of course they wanted no compassion shown towards the faery, even if she wanted a bit of information, this was for the time being her own use only and so her actions could not be perceived as anything but compassion. What she never saw coming was the violent outburst from the guard, Brindr was it? She already knew this woman had a temper, but she did not expect such a large outburst in front of the two that were picked to judge the situation. On that situation note, Brindr was escalating things rather quickly, action was being prompted, but that meant taking a side, even if she just wanted to protect justice she was an outsider and no one would believe that she acted in the interest of said justice. However, the girl… justice… the girl… the guard… evil!!! The hiss the blade made across the air made her freze in place for a second or two, her lack of decisive action gave room to the other to make her own. Take her? Run?! The other clearly wanted to save this girl, every action of this woman up until now had been in the best interest of the faery. Was she good or evil? The answer to that question could either resolve this case or leave her at square zero. Was there a relation between the two? So many questions kept popping into her mind, and while she took Kist into her arms, run she did not. She could not! What had she gotten herself into… … “What have you gotten yourself into?” Said her father as she came home with a bruised body and bloodied lips. “When will you learn that what society does is not your business, good and evil exist, and your actions make no difference. In the end, this behavior shall be your undoing Pheonitia.” … …the sound of the blade hitting armor made her snap back into reality, nothing like a lecture from her father from who knows how many galaxies away? How many years away? Planes of existence? There was great logic to what he said back then, but how could she turn the blind eye to evil? Is that not choosing a side as well? Is that not a greater evil on its own? To answer those questions she came here, but alas she could not simply side with the faery and the brave swordswoman, she could not, but she had to condone Brindr for her actions up until now. Motive?! There’s no motive! She thought briefly, remembering the questions the guard had posed the faery before, a statement, for fun? They did not know, and neither did she, but the lack of motive was very important when assigning guilt. Their case on the faery grew weaker by the minute. Turning to Kist she spoke her mind. – I don’t think your guilty. What I think however does not make you innocent, accept this crucible and come out on top. Only then can you truly be free. – If only the other woman understood that good intentions are insufficient to prove someone’s innocence. On the flip side of the coin, her actions could only serve to prove the faery guilty, good becomes evil, but there was a third possi… Sure, enough the loud bang was enough to stop everyone at their tracks, Pheonitia unwillingly tightened the hold she had on Kist. Friend or foe? It was hard to say initially, but soon his intentions were reviled, another one to this big mess, she was not sure if yet another involved party would bring any good to the situation. At least it stopped the fighting, the man ordered to drop weapons, she had none to drop unless he considered her bracers has weapons, that was unlikely. Probably feeling cornered and since the woman saw no actual help from her part, Mairead bolted and this prompted chase from this new person… at any rate she was not going anywhere but her brow hues turned sharply in the direction of Brindr. – This could have been avoided… I won’t let you anywhere close to this girl until others arrive. – The third possibility could very well be presenting itself before her eyes. – What is your problem? What are you worried about? Is this girl a threat to you in her state? Where were you really when the explosion happened? Why did you fail your duties as a guard? Did you really fail? – Pheonitia shot quick and dangerous questions to the other, narrowed were her eyes, they were full of intention and judgment, the hypothesis was very real. This woman had been hostile from the start, while the other guard was not sure of what she really saw, this woman had been a little too certain, maybe they were hiding something, maybe Brindr had allowed for this to happen or was the perpetrator herself and was hiding in layers of grief and sorrow to throw people off her trial. Quickly assigning blame to a nearby faery, trying to kill of the girl so that justice could not flow its course, this woman’s actions suddenly became… very suspicious. Pheonitia went nowhere, but used her body to keep the guard between herself and Kist. She did not know who the guilty party was, but one thing she was sure, guilty or not, this guard had a lot to respond for her actions. Oh! Mairead, she too had to answer to her actions, how unfortunate things were turning out, how right her father was. This was not her business from the start, but now she was deep into the mess and could not back down. For the sake of the innocent, and so that judgment could be brought down to the guilty. |
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| Kist | Oct 12 2017, 09:00 PM Post #17 |
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Gaudeamus igitur, luvenes dum sumus!
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(CW: language -casually replies many months later-) Kist was dropped to the ground, gasping for air. There was shouting, the clatter of weaponry, and then Kist was hefted into someone's arms all before she even had the time to catch her breath. She spasmed against her bonds in kneejerk fear and then came to her senses: the person carrying hair was the red-haired woman who had been recruited in her judgement. As her rolling eyes fastened on her saviour's face, the woman's voice resonated in her head. I don't think you're guilty. Had there been time for a sentimental moment, Kist's eyes would have melted. However, in this dire moment, she merely began to shout, "Then unbind me y–!" But a loud BANG! cut her off. Kist writhed around like a worm, trying to see what the cause of the noise was, but all she could see were the dark walls of the alley. Whatever it was, it had freed Brindr up: in that moment Kist saw her advancing on them. Before she could stop herself, she let out a pitiful cry of terror – No, no, she would not get so close to escape only to be snatched back – "You fucking idiot!" shouted Brindr, "I was there when the fucking place got blown up!" She gestured at her scanty bikini armour with a disdainful hand, accidentally flicking the bronze with a light ping! "This protected me from the explosion, but I was in there! I saw them burn! But right before that I see this cunt–" she gestured disdainfully at Kist, who was hidden from her, "–running out of the building, just in time to escape. Goddess – why am I taking the time to explain this to you? I don't give a fuck–" With an exasperated flick of her head she gave up mid-sentence and charged forward, axe raised. Clearly she didn't care whether or not Phoenitia and Kist both died, so great was her rage. |
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| Mairead | Oct 28 2017, 06:26 AM Post #18 |
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I reject your reality and substitute my own.
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Unceremonious. Unceremoniously, he had shoved her into a hardwood chair, bound, of course. A desk lamp in an interrogation room was turned on with its light in her eyes. Mairead’s eyes peeked under half-closed lids. The sharp lighting contrast made it impossible to see the detective. Stern questions were hammered out of the dark. She could feel sweat pouring down her face. The props were in place, complete with a cool glass of water, just out of her reach. It was clear what role she played and what role the detective played. He was perp-sweating her. His oily voice fell somewhere between gloating and mantric. “Patsy, in a word,” said Melden. “That is what you are.” “Patsy?” she repeated the strange word. “What is that?” “Tsk tsk. I ask the questions here. But if you must know, that is criminal term for a gullible person, which is what you are. You are being, poppy, the fairy girl’s acquiescent little patsy. Those doe-like eyes of hers convinced you to act on her behalf, haven’t they? And you walked…” Melden’s spidery fingers made walking motions on the table and Mairead’s eyes were drawn in. “… pliant like a little puppy, right into her trap. Don’t you feel angry now?” His voice had dissolved into croaking laughter. A trap? Did she think she was playing the hero? Mairead’s next words wavered in tone, uncertain. “The fairy girl looked in genuine distress. I was only trying to help.” But she was shivering. What was he playing at? What did he know? She tried to keep her nerves under control, to remember what had transposed. He had come into the scene late. How long had he been watching? Melden Ellis slumped against the chair opposite. He held up a light to an overly large pipe in his mouth, lighting it. His beady black eyes were away from her, for the moment. She hated his eyes. Her mind felt intruded on for some reason, like he knew all her thoughts from the start. That greasy smile either indicated he had the upper hand in the case, or it was merely a ploy. Eff it! She didn’t know. On the other hand, he gave the impression of holding all the cards. If he had seen her assault Brindr… No, the precise question was: “What do you want from me?” “Etch! Etch!” came his barking cough as he nearly choked on his pipe. The detective was all teeth, grinning, his eyes squinted. Then came the clapping hands. “Thought you’d never ask!” exclaimed the man. He had thrown her off again with unpredictable behaviour. Melden leaned forward, both his hands gripping the edge of the table. “What do I want?” His pipe was put to the ashtray in his sudden elation. “I am a detective. They say I am the best.” An uncommitted shrug. “Yes, maybe." "I want your service, in exchange for your freedom! Mademoiselle forger." Mairead's eyes widened. How did he know what she did? They have only just met. Or have they...? "Find me this Key. Find it, get me my promotion, and I get you your freedom. Deal?” |
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