|
|
|
|
Author |
Topic: IC thread (Read 59 times) |
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
Outside the prison
Annie looked around, dazed. What had just happened? She looked around in fear at the dead bodies lying on the ground, and then at the casual faces of the dirty men near her. They had killed all these guards without a moment's thought, with such ease. She knew that her family's guards could fight that way, if needed, but she couldn't imagine doing it herself. She wasn't even sure she could kill someone, even if she wanted to.
Why in the world had she chosen to follow these...men? They were clearly thugs, as likely to kill her as the slavers, she was sure. But it was too late to go back. Maybe if she followed them quietly, they would forget about her, and she would not have to try to defend herself from them. She could get to a port, find someone who knew or knew of her family, and arrange a way home.
Her headache had started up again, making it hard to concentrate on her surroundings. She reached up to massage her forehead, and stopped when she saw the stains on her hands, dark in the dim light. Still wet. She scrubbed her hands on the grass, hoping the others hadn't noticed. She wondered whether she was still asleep, this just another of her nightmares.
Well, asleep or not, it was time to be practical. She pulled the armor awkwardly off the least bloody of the bodies, hiding her grimace, and tried to figure out how to wear it. She might not know how to use a weapon, but at least armor might protect her a little. That, and her ability to become...well, unnoticed. She took a deep breath, then started emptying her mind and body, becoming as uninteresting, as distant, as she knew how.
|
| « Last Edit: on: Mar 6, 2006, 3:08PM » |
 I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
Imillar regarded her carefully. She had promise, and yet she was so soft. Bags! Her nails were PAINTED! So reliant on her family, looking outward for help rather than inward for strength.
Still she was stealthy, and she managed to take care of herself when forced by dire necessity. She showed promise, and besides she reminded him of..her. No he couldn't abandon her. Not yet. For now the group would have to hold together. Besides the whole lot of them would be handy when the time of retribution came for the slavers.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
Night in the city
She felt the presence, although it was too dark to see. As she stood, stock still, forms started to resolve from the gloom around her. People, men, women, lying limply on the ground. Wiping her wet, sticky hands absently on her thighs, she stepped carefully over the bodies, looking for the Other.
A time passed as she moved, she couldn't tell how long. The bodies faded, and the darkness began to lighten in front of her. As she approached, a table became visible, a tall, shrouded form laid out along its length. Behind it, outlined against the lesser dark, stood the Other.
She fought to master the tightness in her chest, the twisting in her belly. Her legs felt weak, wobbly, barely able to support her suddenly overwhelming weight.
She pushed herself forward, struggling through the thickening air. Her body moved in slow motion, her thighs and calves starting to burn with the effort. But this time, she was making progress, passing the table, approaching him, that Other. She could see the pattern of the fabric along outline of his shoulders, his legs--a complicated brocade robbed of any color in this gloom.
This was the closest she'd ever come. Three arm's lengths away. The face was still a mass of black, though, a darkness deeper and more complete than that around her, behind her back.
She hesitated, slowing against the pressure of the air. Every piece of her body was telling her to turn around and run. Finally, she started to move again...
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
It was disconcerting. No matter how much she tried to keep the others from noticing her, staying in the back, keeping her mouth shut...the others kept seeing her. Even that...earthy...one, commenting that her looking at him would make the others jealous.
But that one-eyed elf was the worst. She had tried to avoid looking at him, as his deformities made her uncomfortable, but he still seemed to watch her, know something about her that even she didn't know. That she didn't want to know.
At home, she'd gotten very good at staying unnoticed whenever possible. She had learned how to blend in to the crowd, how to let others take attention. She had still had to step forward when her family needed, but she had gotten good at that, too: charming someone important to their business, mingling at parties, occasionally even negotiating ship fees. Not that she enjoyed it, but she knew her duty. And a Tharson always did their duty.
As they walked, she tried to push the dreams to the back of her mind, both the old terror and that new, almost comforting, one. And she refused to look at her hands, her fingers speckled with gore. holding the dagger that fit there so comfortably, unexpectedly.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
Imillar stared at the girl for only a moment, and for once didn't have to glare her down with his one good eye. The empty socket and the huge scar running from the orbital to his jawline made her unconfortable. It's not that he didn't know that it disturbed her; he just didn't care.
In many ways he couldn't help but look. She reminded him of...her in so many ways, and each time he looked he found another window into his past.
He pressed the thought out of his mind, and focus returned. He sought out the shadows as he walked back to the bottom of the stairwell where the bookshelf had been. Perhaps there was a text in the disarray that would detail a new technique he had not yet learned.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
Imillar sat down and began his meditative exercises. It was all so confusing...He was so certain that ending the lives of those children on the farm, most likely in their sleep, would have been showing the ultimate compassion. A willingness to end another's suffering even though the guilt of the act would be his own burden to bear. Surely a quick and painless death was a better fate than the life of difficulty those grieving orphans would have to endure.
Yet Roland had reacted as if he were a monster for even suggesting they harm the children. Roland was the one who killed their father, probably while trying to snatch what little coin the poor man had. Even now something in the back of his mind told him that Annie would appalled as well. Crube on the other seemed totally numb, devoid of nearly all emotion; his focus was admirable perhaps even enviable.
What was done was done. Imillar had instead decided to forward the coin to the children. Nearly 30 gold marks, a small fortune to a farmer really. He could only hope that it would spare them some pain. He still wondered if it was the right thing; the compassionate thing. His master, Pai Mei, had always taught him to use his abilities for knowledge and the aid of others. Imillar took some solace in that fact that Pai Mei would have approved of his decision. It was resolving the approval of his old teacher with what Imillar thought was a lesser service to those children than his original plan that troubled him.
He dwelled on it no more, letting the past be the past, and returning his thoughts to the present. Inner peace finally settled on him once more and focus returned…
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
Being with these men was...wearing.
For whatever reason--fate, gods, luck--Annie had to travel with them now, whether she wanted to or no. Her duty was clear, and responsibility was not to be refused. She would not be a Tharson if she tried to evade her obligations. And yes, in spite of her still new marriage to Robert Wilkinson, her loyalties belonged to her father, her family, and the recovery of their businesses. Not that she would ever work against the Wilkinsons, but after all, her father had arranged her marriage in order for the Tharsons to gain access to the rich silk trade controlled by the Wilkinsons.
These men were her only protection in this dangerous quest, but they, too, were unsafe, unpredictable. Annie had been trying to stay silent, to divert their attention from herself, to protect herself. But they wouldn't let her. The long looks from that scarred elf when he thought she wasn't watching. That shifty human who had started following them in the monastery. He kept so close he nearly stepped on her heels! At home, she had been so skilled at avoiding attention, but these men would not let her.
But since that had not worked, she had chosen to use her other skills. In spite of her desire for anonymity at home, she had had to step up, become charming and vivacious, flirt and make allies, negotiate, all in the name of the Tharsons, of the health and expansion of their business. She was good at it, but it always tired her. The day after a function, she stayed in bed much longer than usual. She had to work hard not to snap at the servants--even when they did nothing wrong, their mere presence, her need to maintain appearances, was more than she had energy for.
So, she had drawn herself up, gathered all her energies, and used her abilities of command to get that devious, untrustworthy man to leave her alone. He had clearly resented it, but it had worked. The effort had been worth it, in spite of the energy it had drained from her. She was already tired from the constant need to keep an eye on the men, watch for any danger from them, let alone the effort required to handle the perils of their journey. But the freedom from their scrutiny, even if only for a little while, was worth the energy.
|
| « Last Edit: on: Mar 31, 2006, 4:35PM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
The men Annie traveled with were a dangerous bunch. Maybe even more dangerous than the journey they took. But she had to admit that she needed them, needed their experience with fighting and risk, in order to stay alive. Their unshaven faces, their rough speech, their coarse ways disturbed her, but she did her best to hide her discomfort, and accept it as part of her duty.
The one-eyed elf was an enigma. She tried not to think of him too much, but he unsettled her. So mutilated, he must have done awful things in his past. He had a deep anger in him. and little pity or understanding of others. He seemed sometimes like a wild animal--capable of hurting others in an instant, with no planning and little regret. And yet, at moments he acted like a gentleman. Or someone who had once been gentle...?
The healer had been kind to her, but he, too, was dangerous. He seemed as capable of violence as any of the rest, and there was no telling when he might consider her useless and turn on her.
That furtive man who had joined them was the worst. She knew his type, had seen them standing in the shadows behind the powerful men. No regard for life, only for their employer and coin. She had even heard whispers of secret killers, assassins who were hired to eliminate political or business rivals. Her family never used such, and she had never experienced those kinds of machinations, but she knew it happened.
She didn't know why he followed them, only that the others hadn't tried to send him away. Not that they hadn't argued. There was constant tension between them. But at least that diverted some of their attention from her. But it was important to watch him, try to discover his motives, before he betrayed them all.
In some ways, the elven mage was the safest of them all. He might enjoy, even seek out, fighting. He was coarse and vulgar, and the dirtiest (and smelliest) of the lot. But he was predictable, and he seemed to have little interest in her. As long as she didn't cross him and kept herself in the background, she could probably protect herself.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
Annie knew how the men saw her: rich, spoiled, weak, useless. Jokes about her nails, her accent, her manners. Sly comments on the way she had gotten the guard captain on their side. But of course, they were used to using force to get their way, not persuasion.
Weak she might be, but to her surprise, she was not completely useless. She had never trained in the arts of war, learning only what she needed to run a household and a business, to make contacts, to negotiate. Not that these men considered fighting an "art," more as a sport, it sometimes seemed. She was surprised by the excitement, the exhilaration of her surprising physical abilities. Using her body skillfully was a tremendous change from the tedious round of house accounts, shipping manifests, supplier negotiations, bookkeeping, and all the other little things she had to keep track of in her life.
It was strange, though. During every fight she seemed to see herself from a distance, as if someone else controlled her body. Her abilities surprised and scared her--she had never seen moves like that, even from the most elite of the Tharson guards. The words "a deadly dance" floated, whispering, in her head.
But fighting exhausted her. She came back to her body with a throbbing headache. Too many fights at once, and the headache worsened to the point where she could hardly see. Sometimes it seemed that her dark dream had followed her into the day, the shadowed presence hiding just around the corner, glimpsed from the corners of her eyes. But she hid the pain as best as she could. She didn't want the men to see her weakness. She didn't want to again anger that scarred elf, or allow them to think of her as a target. Strength was probably her best defense. If she could manage it.
|
| « Last Edit: on: Mar 31, 2006, 4:29PM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
deegan
Veteran Poster
Last On: 08/22/06
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 63
|
...damned mayor. He has sent that sniveling kobold over again to collect another tax of some sort or another. My parents are besides themselves. It has been such a hard winter and we are down to stale bread and what little that arrogant bastard has left us to live on...Im not sure how much more my father can take...
...My younger sister found him in the barn. Poor, poor Kate. She is too young to have seen such horrors. This last assessment was too much for poor Father. While dangling from the rafters in the barn, moonlight illuminated his face. He looked more at peace then he had for some time. I must be strong. Strong for the family. That greedy monster will pay. I must contact my cousin Joachim. He knows people. He can help me avenge father. Yes. Tomorrow...
...Walter, the guildmaster, was a bit surprised upon meeting me. Most of his pupils are halflings, and slight of build. A fully-grown human is a rarety he said, but not unheard of. Joachim must truly have something on this guy, though, because he opened himself up to me. I explained my interest in the guild, but told him that petty theft and selling traps did not interest me. I wanted to learn the ways of the Yakuza, the dark ones, the assassins. His face grew dark, but he told me, "If this is your calling, the training will uncover those talents. It always does...". That corrupt, greedy politician will pay for my father. I swear it...
...hard work. Long hours. Gifted they say. Locks quickly fall to pieces in my hands. My best friend while a farmer's child was the blazing sun. Now the gloom is my ally, the shadows my closest friend. Who knew there were so many ways to kill a man?...
..Graduation Day. Independence Day. Liberation Day, no... Vengeance Day. I am now officially indebted to the guild for my training and have a year to repay them. Most likely they will take it out in theft and assassination. At my request, my "check-out" task is to assassinate that damnable mayor. This is one task I truly look forward to. Now to start the planning...
|
| « Last Edit: on: Apr 1, 2006, 4:07AM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
deegan
Veteran Poster
Last On: 08/22/06
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 63
|
...Damnit, it should have worked. Everything was planned perfectly. Just a drop of that poison that Walter had given me. A quick cut, even the tiniest of slices would have put that fat bastard in his grave. Who knew it would be her...
...What could that slimeball have on sweet Gina to make her turn from me, and betray her lover. True, I was using her to get to him, but I thought I saw selfless devotion in her eyes. Next time, I must be more careful...
...On the run. Grimwald's thugs in constant pursuit. From the moment things went terribly wrong in that bedchamber I knew this was going to get ugly. Living on the lamb, camping in the wilderness. Every time I think I am safe, another of this man's agents turns up. I know of an ancient abbey not far from here. The monks should give one of their "own" solace. Some old robes and a good story and I will have food in my belly and a place to lay my head until things die down...
...There were three of them. They caught me with my pants down, literally. Nature calls at the worst moments sometimes. I was able to catch one in the eye with that thrown dagger, but the other two pursued me like hounds on a fox. Luckily darkness was falling. Thank the gods that abbey wasnt further. I will let myself in once the sun falls and the shadows take over...
...So much for food and a warm place to sleep. Even I was taken aback by the carnage in the antechamber. And to think that rogue's gallery wrecked such havoc. A one-eyed elf, 2 weaklings, and a young woman. They should provide good cover if the monks are indeed dead. I will help them until they are no longer useful to me. Ultimately, I have to finish my mission, but I cannot do that if I am dead. Damn Grimwald...
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
deegan
Veteran Poster
Last On: 08/22/06
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 63
|
...Such an odd bunch. They seem to know nothing of survival. They berate me one minute and plead for my help another. Greedy to get into a locked chest, but how awful I am for picking a pocket...
...Damned farmer. He couldnt have left well enough alone. And his mangy mutt. My ass will be sore for quite awhile. But the elf's reaction was the most disturbing. Killing children? What a monster. The cuts that left those scars must have addled his brain a bit. Even a rogue like me has some moral standards...
...Distrust. I cant blame them for not trusting me, but I have to try to get along with them. They are my cover and my backup if Grimwald's thugs reappear. At least until I get on my feet. That girl seems to be the key. They look at her and turn to blubbery mush. The elf especially tries to hide his gaze, but he is terrible at it. And the funny thing is that she KNOWS...
...I must befriend her. She looks down on me as if she were nobility. An air of arrogance at her core that she sometimes has trouble concealing. Her nimbleness in a fight is surprising, even as the others muddle their way around. I doubt Ill change the others minds, but if I can even get a shred of credibility, it will be through Annie...
...Silly quests and odd tactics. This group knows nothing of stealth. I must take care of my needs, because I could get killed taking care of theirs. I'm not sure how long this arrangement will work out. The woman is no easy mark. But she still seems to be my only key. I must try harder...
|
| « Last Edit: on: Apr 1, 2006, 8:19PM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
When Annie saw the fine silk of the robe Crube had found at the monastery, for a moment she smelled the exotic spices from the warehouses at home. She loved the smells, tastes, and feeling of the goods from distant places. When she was a child, the Tharson warehouses had been boring places, full of uncut hides, rough logs, and bales of uncarded wool.
In contrast, the warehouses and ships of her foster family were exciting, filled with the smells of spices and tea, and full of shiny metals. As a young girl, she spent hours in their depths, doing her work of checking inventories and verifying quality, but really just basking in her imaginings of far away places and strange peoples. And by the time she returned home in late adolescence, her family's warehouses had also begun filling with exotic goods.
The beautiful blue and gold fabric of Crube's robe was of very fine silk, from the goblins of Degoria unless she was mistaken. And after three quarters of a year with the Wilkinsons, she thought it unlikely she was mistaken. She had applied herself as soon as her father had announced the match with Robert Wilkinson, and by the wedding, knew quite a bit about silk and the silk trade. Once married, she had worked very hard in the Wilkinson's business, learning everything else she could. She believed she knew nearly as much as Robert now, even though he had spent his entire life among silk.
She saw the faces of her family much less often now. In the slave ship, she had held them in front of her like a screen. In spite of her overwhelming homesickness, it helped her believe she was still at home, and that the slave ship was just a bad dream. She had been surprised that over time, Robert's face had become clearer than that of her mother, father, and siblings. After all, she had known him such a short time, and they still were awkward and careful around each other. But then again, she had been fostered in Tazeron for enough years that the family she had grown up with had become near strangers by the time she had returned.
She only thought of her family occasionally now, the need to be wary of her companions and surroundings taking up most of her thoughts. But occasionally as she lay in her bedroll, trying to fall asleep, she imagined herself back with Robert in their bedroom. She tried to remember the feel of the fine fabric of the sheets, the process of changing and rebraiding her hair in the other room, and what it felt like to shyly climb through the curtains into the huge bed with Robert waiting there in his nightgown. After the first month or two, she had actually felt some comfort when she settled into his arm ready for sleep. He had even held her and tried to settle her when she had woken up from one of her many nightmares.
Annie tried to imagine that feeling of warmth and comfort now, but rarely managed more than a moment before she fell into sleep, moving closer every night to that dark Other in her dreams.
|
| « Last Edit: on: Apr 2, 2006, 6:22PM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
The others were behind him by a fair distance as Imillar scouted ahead. He moved silently through the thick shadows of the cavern. A flicker of motion caught his eye and then was gone in the darkness. It could have been his eye playing tricks, so he pressed on, his keen ears listening for the slightest movement. He searched the corridor intently; too intently. In a fleeting moment it all went wrong as he set off the trap.
A flash of light went off with the effect and his opponents were fully alerted to his presence; Dagorian archers, and worse their companions a wolf and a worg. The worg was closest, and its black shape revealed the motion he had seen. The dark fur was difficult to spot in the shadows. Dwelling on his mistake no more, he screamed for aid and loosed his first arrow, taking one of the goblins in the chest. The first volley from the remaining goblins went wide, as the worg closed rapidly. He loosed another arrow finishing the Dagorian, who was still clutching at the first arrow. The goblin collapsed in a heap, a pair of arrows jutting from his chest and the portion of his face where the nose had once been.
Imillar had no time to string another arrow. He threw down his bow and readied himself for the worg’s attack. It was a hopeless defense. The next volley from the Dagorians caught him in the shoulder blade, just as he set himself to take the worg’s charge. Imillar landed one glancing blow on the worg’s shoulder with his fist, and promptly crumpled under the weight of the massive beast. It took considerable effort to twist during the fall, but he managed to avoid landing atop the arrow still protruding from his back.
The worg landed atop him, blasting the air from his lungs. The creature snapped at him, and Imillar felt the warm blood running down his arm. His companions had arrived, but the ring of battle seemed extraordinarily muted. The world went black...
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
Imillar stood in silence and watched the pair scampering through moonlight forest. It was Imillar as a young elf, vibrant, eyes gleaming, and totally enthralled with…her. Imillar watched paralyzed by the fear of what he knew would happen next. He wanted to tell himself to turn back, to pay attention to what the elders had said. Instead he watched the two young elves venture into the forbidden lands. They thought they were invincible; the immortal youth. Fools.
The forest erupted in flame as the demonspawn appeared. They didn’t have a chance. Imillar watched and wept, reliving the nightmare that plagued him for so long. He watched as the demonspawn took his fair lover and had their way with her. He saw that young visage of himself beaten to within moments of death only to be magically healed, so those monsters could enjoy it all over again. Imillar remained silent, as the demonspawn forced the young elf to watch as they defiled his love. Imillar said nothing when the young elf refused. One of the demonspawn used a wicked blade to carve out his eye, and crush it into the ground. Though he was healed the eye never returned. The torture continued for hours.
After what seemed an eternity, another group of the foul creatures arrived, but this lot was different somehow. A melee broke out between the new arrivals and his captors. Rith Neren, his only love, lay crumpled on the forest floor. She had died. Exactly when he didn’t know, for he could no longer recall where her screaming stopped and his own began. He used the ongoing chaos to make his escape, abandoning Rith’s body in exchange for his own life…
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
A shape was looming over him, several actually. They’d found him! He struck out on pure instinct. He landed a blow square on Tendail’s jaw. He felt immediate remorse. He truly liked the archer. He was preparing his apologies when he caught the slightest motion out of the corner of his eye. It had never been like this before. His chi flowed and he found his center without effort. Usually, he had to concentrate and even then his senses weren’t this attuned.
The whole cave became grey to Imillar; except for Roland. He was somehow glowing like the noonday sun. It was the battle sense that his old master, Pai Mei, had told him about. Normally Roland’s speed was a match for his own, but he seemed sluggish and obvious. Roland had the bolt loaded on the crossbow and was starting to take aim.
Imillar exploded into action, entering a combat stance, his arm snapping up from his waist, the wrist turning to bring the palm face up as his arm continued its arcing path out and away from his body. The technique and timing were perfect. The bony part of his wrist contacted the shaft of the bolt, knocking it from its intended path. It had been a warning shot, but instinct and training had taken over.
The transcendence had started. Imillar was learning to harness his chi and become more than a normal elf. Any other day he would have throttled Roland for shooting at him, but Imillar had just taken the first step towards retribution.
|
| « Last Edit: on: Apr 5, 2006, 7:13PM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
For the third time that day, Annie found herself laughing at one of Crube's jokes, although she tried to hide it. He was refreshingly simple. She smiled wryly: not necessarily pleasant, but simple, easy to predict, and therefore slightly safer than the others.
* * *
Yet another nightmare had drained Annie, and the lack of sleep was starting to take its toll. The occasional bouts of nausea weren't helping either. She might be fine one moment at the sight of yet another body, but then the copper smell of fresh blood or the odors of strange meats cooking over a fire would bring on a fresh wave of sickness.
She knew she looked weaker than ever--so, so dangerous to her. She tried to smooth her hair and straighten her shoulders, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the pretense of strength and calm. It had been terrifying to find Roland standing over her bed. For a moment, she had thought she was still in her nightmare, and prepared to defend herself. He had seen her weakness, followed her, in fact. But to her relief, he hadn't said anything to the others. And neither had he tried to take advantage of her. Not yet.
* * *
Her standing in the group had improved now that she had begun fighting her instincts to stay hidden. Standing up to them had seemed to earn their respect. Stirring up their resentment was a small price to pay.
But more was going on. Roland wanted something. He had claimed that he was watching out for her when she found him in the inn, but she was sure that he was simply watching her. He wanted her to like him, trust him. She was used to people disguising their motives; after all, you never came into a purchase negotiation telling the other party exactly what you'd pay. But...maybe it was his anger? Maybe the way he wasn't open about anything, not even trying to lie? Whatever it was about him, it made his attention seem sinister.
Imillar was also not exactly what he seemed. He had even come to her to ask that strange question. She should have pretended she didn't know he was talking about the children of that dead peasant. She should have responded with some drivel about monthly visits to the slums to bring some small relief. But his softness had caught her off guard, and she had answered him kindly.
Then, when he had fallen in the cave, started screaming that name, her heart had reached out to him against her will. She had run toward him, started to kneel, to comfort him--him, the rough one, the dangerous one! But luckily, she hadn't gotten too close when he had startled up, nearly killing the one trying to help him.
* * *
She turned her attention back to Crube's complaints. Hopefully, focusing on the task at hand would keep her from thinking about how badly she felt.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
Back from the Degorian-infested caves
Annie was shaken to realize how much she'd forgotten about Halborn. "about Halborn"? Was it no longer "home" to her? So soon? She felt the all-too-familiar burn of shame for her insult to the son of the High Captain of the Halborn Guard--if she'd met him in the city, she would have remembered his name and shown the proper social responses. Her father would be angry when he found out. Not that he'd show it. He'd simply give her that look of quiet disappointment, the one that hurt so much more than anger. The one that made her stomach flip and face turn red. The one her older brother never even seemed to notice.
Thoughts of her family faded as she tried to listen to Crube's story, although the queasiness of shame stayed.
-----
She climbed into bed, hoping that she'd be able to sleep through the night this time. At least the stale bread and fresh milk she'd gotten from the innkeeper had helped calm her and settle her stomach.
She surreptitiously looked around the room for Roland, wondering whether he was in the shadows watching her. She wasn't sure whether he had chosen to stay hidden and silent in the cave, or had been elsewhere on his own business. Either way, it had been a relief to forget about him for a little while.
When she realized her thoughts had been drifting toward Imillar, she jerked a little back toward wakefulness. Sitting with him outside the waterfall earlier, she had forgotten his horrible appearance for a little. He had felt like a much younger man, one seeking his place in the world, one wishing for belonging. She had almost reached out to him in reassurance, in comfort, but had remembered who he was just in time.
She distracted herself by remembering Kerric's sarcastic words about her ability with locks. Why did these men persist in telling her she had some special "skill"? They treated her as if she was lying. Lying, just like they did. The locks and traps had been little more than crude twists of wire--only an idiot would fail to see that a jiggle here or a turn there would cause them to fall apart. It wasn't her fault she had what her father had called "mechanical aptitude" and a "head for numbers".
Wrapping herself deeper in her warm blanket of resentment and anger, she fell asleep. For a while.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
bjseaston
Extreme Poster
Last On: 11/26/07
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 317
|
Imillar's sleep was plagued by nightmares, and he soon awoke. He wished he didn't have to sleep at all, but after the caves he was just too exhausted to avoid it. The images of his past haunted him while he had slept; they almost always did. At least when he was awake he could focus on the present, and avoid his past.
Thank goodness, the meditation techniques he learned from his master afforded him the luxury of hardly needing sleep at all. With only a little time to meditate each day, Imillar had found that he could go almost a tenday with no sleep at all. The few hours he had gotten would last him a few days. He settled into his meditation exercises and began delving into his chi, searching for a deeper state of consciousness.
His breathing slowed, his eyes closed and his thoughts turned inward, he began to focus on amplifying his senses other than his sight. The sounds of the room flooding his ears. Annie's breathing was not the normal pattern of deep sleep. Without opening his eyes he focused all of his thoughts on the woman. She was indeed asleep. She was having a nightmare.
|
|
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
quirkster
Forum God
Last On: 10/19/08
View Profile
Message Player
United States
Posts: 694
|
Again, the shape. The Other. Looming darker than dark against the background, beckoning to her without motion. This time, she felt words hanging in the air between them, unspoken, but feeling like a hiss. "Don't you want to know who I am?"
She woke from the dream, stifling a cry, frantically trying to escape from the tangled, sweaty sheets. Only to see Imillar nearby. His eyes were closed, maybe he hadn't noticed? She tried to breath more slowly, to calm the quick beating of her heart.
Waiting for his eyes to open, she prepared a question to ask him. One to distract him from her, and to focus him on himself.
|
| « Last Edit: on: Apr 25, 2006, 4:09PM » |
I.P. Logged |
|
|
|
|
|
|
