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| [P][GRP] A Second Dance; GRP: Harvest; Cordelia Brooks; Joint-writing exercise | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat Aug 20, 2016 4:01 am (151 Views) | |
| Eliel | Sat Aug 20, 2016 4:01 am Post #1 |
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Eliel walked alongside his companion for the evening, keeping a wary eye out for any followers but finding none. He'd spread his allies out across the forest in search, but to all appearances Cordelia's pursuers had given up on the area. Once night fell they had departed and taken to the paths, coming out on the main road near the village with other travelers come to celebrate the year's harvest. "How are you feeling? Still having reservations?" Though she walked alongside Eliel, she was not looking at him -- she was looking at the tents and paper lanterns. She knew she ought to have been more cautious or alert, but she had never seen a harvest festival before, and if she had, she did not remember it. When Eliel spoke, she whipped her head to look at him, and sighed. "Yes," she said, "but... a little less so, maybe. I'm actually feeling a bit... Excited." He watched her intently as they entered the village proper, enjoying her features lost in thought by the lantern's light. The elf schooled his features a little as she looked back at him, wiping away a measure of the longing. "Excited is good. Excited beats boredom any day. We've been locked up in a cave for the last couple of weeks. You need to get out. It's good to see you when you aren't quite stressed out of your mind." "I was right to be stressed," she said. "I'd be dead if the lawmen caught me." She tilted her head back as they walked under multiple lanterns hung from the branches of a tree, and the glow illuminated her pale face and her stark blue eyes. "I was a monster, wasn't I? Before." "They wouldn't have you once you made it here. We wouldn't let them have you, one way or another." He let his gaze wander back to her before drifting over the lanterns and festivities. Glancing around, he pointed out a tree with a bench set underneath. It was relatively isolated, festival goers far enough away for a measure of privacy. He ignored the question for the moment. "Let's sit and talk a bit. Been on my feet a while. Starting to feel like I'm walking on nails." He took a seat on one side, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. After a moment, he spoke up. "You were... something else. I don't know that I would say you were a monster. Just a woman given a whole host of problems normal people never have to deal with." And she had been. Her trial by literal fire. Her children, their own adventures and the depths that he'd dragged her through. The ordeal with her husband and himself, and his own near-permanent death. She smiled, softly, but let her gaze drift away from him as well. When he pointed to the bench, she scoffed, and looked elsewhere to the more active areas of the festival; the curiosity still lingered in her eyes, even as she followed and sat in the other corner of the bench, leaning back comfortably. "I killed people," she said, "... I could probably do it again--probably will, knowing...what I am--if I weren't so afraid of people coming after me. How did I ever handle lawmen on my own?" He smiled at her curious looks, understanding her eagerness to join in, but the festival was just beginning to get busy. It would last. He wanted some time to talk to her alone without the press of people. “You killed people. You were cold, merciless. People shivered when you walked by, never knowing why their spine just tingled. Mortal lawmen can only handle so much and at a certain point, it's out of their hands. I said you were a woman who had to face a host of trials. Never said you weren't a flinty bitch.” He wore a grin at the prod. Cordelia burst into hard laughter as he called her a flinty bitch. Despite the insult, she seemed amused rather than insulted. When her laughter quelled, there was a small smile on her face, though it was mirthless and more thoughtful now. “I've killed people too. It's hard at first, but it gets easier. I'm not saying it's a good thing, but it's something I understand. Some people are monsters. And sometimes decent people have to do monstrous things to survive. They make mistakes.” He reasoned. "I don't think I was decent," she said. "I'm a vampire. I drink blood. I know I killed to survive. And I doubt I only targeted people who were monstrous. That doesn't seem decent to me. I wish I could live my life with a bit of peace, though with what I was... Well. It does seem very doubtful I'll have any peace at all." His own smile widened at seeing her own, her laughter a welcome thing after so long. It was exactly the way he remembered it. Hearing it again warmed him over some, chipping away at the wall made of heartbreak and long, lonely nights in the company of a bottle. “Decent isn't a good word for it, no. You did terrible things. Hells, I'd hunted people for less. But you were the exception.” Because you were mine. “Because you were your own person. You were strong. Weren't a slave to your thirst. There was something intoxicating about you.” There still is. “How many real, true monsters do you hear about who just want a bit of peace?” His thoughts drifted to her talking about her thirst. She sounded like she regretted her need to harm others to feed herself. Would it be so terrible if she could feed without hurting anyone? He reached up, idly running his fingers over the silvery puncture scars on his throat. A shiver ran through him, a reformed addict remembering the best experience his drug of choice had given him. A moment when he wanted nothing but to give in to a moment of weakness. |
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7:28 PM Jul 11

