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| [P] Starvation Mode FIN; Marion and Irena | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun Oct 15, 2017 4:15 pm (512 Views) | |
| Marion | Tue Nov 7, 2017 7:29 pm Post #16 |
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Marion wanted to stay. But Marion was afraid what staying meant. There were two other perfectly fine bedrooms in the house for her use, along with a parlor and a kitchen. All sorts of floors awaited the embrace of her body. "It was my room first," Marion grumbled. After a moment of frustrated uncertainty, she made a decision by sitting down a short distance away from Irena. "I do need to sleep. And it's probably safer if we stay here together. That way if anything happens, we don't have to run around looking for each other." She averted her eyes. "Are you cold?" Irena lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "A little." She replied. "But I've been much colder, and in worse conditions." She flexed her arm once again, and after a hesitant glance at Marion she began to unwind the bandage covering her skin from wrist to the crook of her elbow. "Have to make sure this didn't rot off during the day." She commented by way of explanation, as she gently lifted the last of the fabric from the pale skin. Grimacing, she gingerly probed her inner arm, fingers tracing over a searing red birthmark that extended the length of her forearm. Noticing Mari watching, she twisted towards her, putting it on display. "Awful, isn't it? If I don't let it breathe at night it hurts worse during the day though." Marion wanted to warn her—to tell her not to let her near a wound when she was so hungry—but she realized very quickly that she didn't smell blood. Irena wasn't raw, the way Eshan had been that night they broke into the estate. Peering curiously at the birthmark on her arm, Marion crawled over on her hands and knees until she was closer, so that she could get a better look. "What is it?" She asked. The skin was red, inflamed. "You don't smell… hurt." She wrinkled her nose slight. "I don't want to know what smelling 'hurt' is like. Save me the description. And I...don't know what it is. I've had it all my life." Irena turned her arm slightly, to offer Marion a better look in the glow from the streets outside. "It didn't start to look this bad until recently. I bribed a doctor to look me over once, he said he didn't know either. The closest thing he could tell me was a burn, like it was burning from the inside. Inside me." She closed her fist, bringing her arm back to cradle it close to her core. "It's not a burn." Marion shook her head. It looked like one, a bit, but burns, like all wounds, possessed a distinct aroma. She reached her hand out slowly, fingers poised midway to Irena's arm, but hesitated to make contact. "Could I see it?" After a beat, Irena shifted forward. Peeling her arm away from her chest, she slowly extended it out to Marion's reach, trying not to gasp at the cold touch of the other girl's grip. With Marion busy, Irena took the opportunity to study her closely at last. She was ...beautiful. Her eyes, which had been cold as ice the first time they'd passed over Irena, seemed to take on a deeper quality as she examined Irena's scar with interest. The vampire's dark hair tumbled past her shoulders, an eye catching lock of white mixed in with the other raven strands. She resentfully spared a glance at her own hair, stick straight and lank from a lack of proper care. You're the real princess here. She thought. Just no castle yet. Carefully taking Irena’s arm, Marion looked over the wound with interest and uncertainty. The mark had a scent—but it wasn’t the scent of a wound. Not a burn, not a gash, not scabbed or scarred over. Even coagulated blood had an ramona—dried, crackling—but that wasn’t it. Sniffing deeply, Marion grew more and more unsettled as she couldn’t pinpoint the nature of this painful birthmark. It smelled—almost like— Marion didn’t know the word. Didn’t know how to describe it. This was completely beyond anything she had ever encountered before. Still holding Irena’s arm, she met the other girl’s eyes with a skeptical glance. “What are you?” |
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| Irena | Sat Nov 18, 2017 7:39 am Post #17 |
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Quick as lightning, Irena ripped her arm away from Marion's grip. "You can tell?" She hissed, scooting over several feet to put more distance between the two. "How the [redacted] can you tell?" The lantern glow from the street outside filtered in through the large picture window, perfectly illuminating the different emotions flashing on Irena's face as she decided how to feel. She chose anger, in the end. Leaping to her feet, she paced the room, hands fretfully tugging fistfuls of her hair. "I didn't know there was something there, something left behind. I thought when I left that was the end of it. That I could disappear and be myself for the first time." She thrust her arm forward, staring hatefully down at her skin. "Instead I get this mystical [redacted]ing beacon burning me alive from the inside out. Summoning me back. Slowly killing me, until I give in and just cut the damn thing off. Instead of living my own life, I get to start out broken." She turned to look at Marion for the first time, the faint sheen of tears visible in her eyes. "Instead, I get to be damaged." She whispered, voice cracking. Chest heaving, she curled her hand into a fist and ground her teeth. The room all at once felt impossibly small, the air oppressive. Marion flinched back, her position defensive, discerning. Then, seeing Irena stand and make no move to hurt her, Marion stood on cautious feet, regarding the other girl with uncertain eyes. "Hey," she said. Her voice was soft, but firm. "Hey. Look at me." She took a step forward, regaining her confidence, slipping back into her fearless skin. "We all start off damaged. That's the way it is. We all get [removed]ed up before we even start in the world. I don't know what the hell is up with your arm or what kind of [removed]ed up place you come from, but it only defines you if you let it. You've got to get a hold of yourself." Taking a shuddering breath, Irena tried to relax her muscles. "You get a hold of yourself" She spat back, instantly regretful. "Sorry. I didn't mean that. That doesn't even make sense." She picked her pacing back up, careful to give Marion a wide berth. "You're just the first person I've spent more than fifteen minutes with in...well, it's been a long time. So apparently that means you get to deal with all my issues. I hope you don't charge by the hour." She picked up her frenzied pacing again, careful to give Marion a wide berth. "Quit joking," said Marion. Her jaw was clenched and her lips were in a thin, straight line. For a long moment she was silent, not sure what she could say. She could think of nothing to make this better, or, at least, make it stop. Stepping forward, Marion grabbed Irena by the shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing. "Whatever happened to you. Whatever is happening to you. There has to be a way out of it. We just have to find the way. Right?" Irena laughed, a short barking sound that echoed in the empty room. "What are you going to do?" She asked, reaching a hand up to brush away a stray tear that had fallen down her cheek. "You'd have to make a literal deal with the devil to stop what's coming. It's only a matter of time." She hesitated, taking a long moment to contemplate her next words. "Do you believe in destiny?" She asked, voice soft. It was obvious this was a question that plagued her thoughts often. "We're in Balefire. You could make a deal with the Shadow Plane at any point. All it'll cost you is a pretty little eye." Marion winked. But then Irena asked a question that deserved a thoughtful answer. Sighing, Marion lifted her hands to cup Irena's face, holding her jaw steady between her cold palms. "No. I don't. I don't believe anything that happens to us is meant to happen to us. The world is chaos. All of it. There isn't a world where I was destined to have my nose broke by my dad's boot. As there isn't a world where you're destined to be hunted. It's just the way the world is. And we pick up our [removed]ed up selves and we make what we can out of our [removed]ed up lives." Irena had gone still under Marion's hands, careful not to disturb the fragile peace between them for the moment. The vampire's words demanded a response, though. "So, nothing means anything? Is that what you believe?" She breathed, afraid too much movement would cause the other girl to withdraw once more. |
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| Marion | Mon Nov 20, 2017 6:42 am Post #18 |
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Irena's skin was so warm against Marion's palms it nearly burned. She never touched anyone, not like this—certainly not for this long. She found herself dedicating to memory how Irena's jaw fit inside her hands, how her own thumbs rested on her cheekbones, prominent from starvation. Her thumbs lay directly in the tracks of Irena's tears, preventing them from falling any farther than the oval tips of her fingers. "That's right," said Marion. "Nothing means anything, unless and until we give it meaning. And we get to decide what that meaning is. So if you want your destiny to mean that you're destined to be broken, that's your choice. But you can make your life mean that you're destined to get away. And you've already started down that path, haven't you?" "Yes. Sort of. Some life though." Irena said bitterly, taking a step backwards. "Theres not much time to wax poetically about meaning these days. Too busy staying one step ahead of the wolves. Dreaming is a luxury some people just don't have." Marion laughed grimly. "Hey, I'm with you there. I'm just trying to say some supportive shit to make you feel better. You're falling apart on me." She lowered her hands from Irena's face, palms still tingling where they had been warmed. "Don't dream. Get angry. And let the anger make something out of you." Irena cracked a slight smile. "Now that is something I might actually be good at. I was born angry. I'll probably die angry. It's a gift, really." She cocked her head to the side. "And what about you, Mari? What are you making out of yourself?" "Good," said Marion. "I hope you're angry forever." But then the question came, and caught her off guard. At first she thought she was making herself into an apothecary, and then, thought of herself as the girl who would leave Balefire. But neither felt full enough to provide a real, true answer, so Marion gestured to the floor. "I'm making myself into a sleeping vampire, no fancy coffin necessary. We've got to kill a man tomorrow, remember." The smaller girl shrugged. "Fine by me." Irena sauntered over to a corner, turning around and wedging herself into the space. as she slid down. She rested her head against the wall, arms wrapped around her core to conserve warmth. Seeing the vampires questioning look, she gave a slight wave of her hand. "I sleep like this all the time. I'll be out like a light in two minutes." Her eyes began to flutter shut before snapping wide open for one last brief moment. "If you look at me like you feel sorry for me, I'll deck you. Remember, we've already established we're both pathetic." Marion rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay," she snapped. Settling down into an opposite corner of the room, she laid down and curled into a ball. Knees to her chest, arms bent under her head like a pillow—this was how she always slept. Except tonight, she glanced more than once toward Irena. In the basement she always slept alone. Until tonight, she slept alone. She never let anyone near her while she slept. But tonight— Tonight there was a girl, pathetic and dirty and struggling, and Marion felt something stirring in her chest that she didn't know how to name. It was there whether she looked at Irena or not. And it was there when she fell asleep, and it was there when she dreamed of the two of them dancing in a blood-red street. |
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| Irena | Wed Nov 22, 2017 4:32 am Post #19 |
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The girl was back tonight. She'd disappeared for a few days. A waifish little thing, she'd been haunting this neighborhood for a few weeks before then. More skittish than some of the other women who stalked the streets, looking for a spare coin or just someplace warm to sleep for the night. He wasn't sure where she had been sleeping, she was evidently smart enough to hide the evidence of her brief living spaces. Lladdwr hated that. There were prettier women that could be found, who didn't value their safety so much. Someone who didn't walk around like she was always tensed to throw a punch. But he couldn't get this one out of his head. The first night he'd seen her, he had watched her toss her hair over her shoulder at something a peddler had said. She had smiled at the man's face, but when she turned to leave Lladdwr caught the roll of her eyes, the way her smile turned into a smirk as she eyed the small trinket she'd pawed while she'd captivated the trader's attention. He just knew, without ever hearing her speak, that she was the kind of girl with a snappy comeback to spare. Too smart for her own good. A girl who probably thought she was better than he was. Lladdwr wondered how many snappy comebacks she would have after he started removing teeth. She had more color in her face, tonight. Her cheeks had slightly more fullness, the dark circles that had been carved under her eyes weren't so sunken. Still, she was stumbling slightly as she walked, her path more crooked than the rest of the crowd's as they shuffled along the street. So, your last meal wasn't enough to undue weeks worth of wasting away. Pity that. I hope you enjoyed it, little one. The tiny girl paused at the entrance of a nearby alley, looking uncertainly between the lively street and the oppressive darkness inside. Why would you go in there? While he watched, she went rigid, and he followed her line of sight to the constable looking bored on the corner ahead. She seemed to make a split decision before darting inside, her bag clutched tight to her chest. In trouble with the law, eh? Don't worry doll, I don't want them around either. Lladdwr casually peeled himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against, sauntering down the street and ducking down the same alleyway. He watched the back of the girl's foot disappear around the bend, faintly illuminated by the lanterns glowing in the street. This part of the city was virtually a labyrinth once you got away from the main roads, a maze of interconnecting alleyways with no rhyme or reason to their path. A smile began to stretch across his face as he padded after her, his footfalls light. Your shortcut is going to be a lot shorter than you planned, girl. He made sure to keep his distance at first, only appearing around the next corner in time to catch a glimpse of her back. Slowly he tracked her progress, the two of them trekking deeper into the slum. Eventually he began to recognize the buildings looming overhead, the alleys becoming more narrow. No one lived in this part of the city, it had been carved out for criminal operations only. And nobody still here would want to risk drawing attention to themselves by alerting the proper authorities if something awful were to happen to a young girl in the middle of the night. The next corner she rounded would be her last. Lladdwr quickened his pace, coming up fast behind the girl and covering her face with his hand. The other arm wrapped itself around her middle, and he wasn't surprised when she began to thrash wildly. They always did. A muffled scream struggled to escape from her closed mouth, and he chuckled lightly to himself. He drew up against her ear, his hot breath ruffling her hair. "If I let you go, will you promise not to run away? I just want to look at you, that's all." He whispered, his heart pounding as she vigorously nodded her head up and down. This was always the best part. When they still had some hope left. One more thing to take from them. He threw her roughly on the ground, where she collapsed to her knees. The girl coughed, wrapping her arms around her midsection as she shivered. He moved til he was in front of her again, slipping the strap of her bag off her shoulder and throwing it towards the wall. He didn't miss the way her eyes widened, the sudden realization that he wasn't after her things. This was even better than he had imagined. Lladdwr crouched in front of her, level with her frightened eyes. Slowly, he reached out a hand to finger the long braid that fell in front of one shoulder. "This is new." He said mildly. "Someone must have prettied you up. You usually wear it down." His grin grew wider as she shivered again, flinching away from his touch. "Oh yes. I've been watching you. For quite awhile now, in fact. Watching may be the wrong term though." His other hand brushed his waist, reaching for the knife at his waist. "For what I have planned for you, hunting might be the more apt comparison." The girl's head dropped, her hands flying up to cover her face. Her shoulders shook in a violent spasm, and he had almost resumed reaching for his blade when an unfamiliar sound rang through the narrow space. It bounced off the walls and echoed to the sky, a shrill cry the he finally realized was coming from the girl in front of him. She lifted her face from her hands, and with a jolt he realized she was laughing. Her expression was alien, alive with a wild enthusiasm as she screamed hysterical joy into the night. "You think.." She choked out, awash in giggles, "..that you're the one who's hunting something tonight?" Out of the corner of his eye, he almost missed the dark shape peeling itself away from the shadows to his left. Edited by Irena, Wed Nov 22, 2017 4:35 am.
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| Marion | Fri Dec 1, 2017 10:00 pm Post #20 |
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Tonight she wasn’t Marion. Tonight she was monster, beast. Tonight she was murderer. It surprised her how softly she could walk. Her heavy boots barely made a sound against the pavement. Any other night the solid bottoms would have click-clicked with each confident footstep, but tonight she relished, for the first time, the power of silence. Moving with the grace and confidence of a cat, Marion followed at a distance, and even acknowledged a nearby constable stationed across the street with a nod of her head. On another night, she would not have even glanced in a constable’s direction. But tonight the courage of a predator suffused her. Her senses felt stronger: she could find him easily in the dark horizon, she could smell him as she followed in his wake. For the first time she felt truly awake in her body—with a predator’s eyes she noticed every small change in the way the lantern light flickered on the pavement. With a predator’s ears, she heard his heart. Heard his excitement. Heard how delighted he was to have caught Irena. Something protective surged in Marion’s heart. Even if it was part of the plan, she could feel her entire body growling with protest that he was so near to her. Tossed to the ground, Irena knelt, holding herself, and in the shadows across the street Marion’s heart darkened. Her teeth ached. A part of her brain shut down. Her sight narrowed, refocused— And in an instant she was on him, and Irena’s laughter filled the alleyway like funeral bells. Slamming him into the alley wall, Marion grinned into his face and laughed under her breath. “I just want to look at you,” she said. Her voice was deeper than usual, dripping with a sense of satisfaction for having him where she wanted him. Her eyes went up and down his body: he was equal to her in height, although somewhat larger in stature. But he lacked instinct. He lacked the primal urge to sink teeth into the nearest artery and bleed a body dry. “You like them pretty,” said Marion. It was a condemnation. “You like them pretty, and helpless, and young. The kind of girls Balefire won’t miss.” Her eyes narrowed. “Balefire won’t miss you, either. Come here. Let me get a long, hard look at you.” A brief pause. “Before I kill you.” (Perhaps she had gotten too confident, relied too wholly on her biology to sustain this encounter. Like a young leopard that has not yet learned the difficulties of the hunt, she believed that by virtue of her species she would have the upper hand. And so she did not see the hand snaking down toward the hidden hilt of a dagger.) |
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| Irena | Tue Dec 5, 2017 5:38 am Post #21 |
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Irena was positively giddy. Their plan had worked out better than they could have even dreamed. Her earlier suspicions had been correct, this pathetic excuse of a man had known the perfect place to strike. All they needed to do was bait him out. And oh, how he had fallen for it. Marion had knocked away his knife in their scuffle, and Irena used her foot to kick it away down the street. Grinning, she watched the vampire threaten her would-be assailant, pacing slightly. The taller girl looked alive in a way Irena would have never expected. Menacing. Dangerous. And confident. Too confident. The vampire had made a dangerous error, assuming the fight was over before it had really begun. She hadn't seen the man slip a hand behind his back, grasping at a hidden fold in his belt. But Irena did. "Marion." She warned, beginning to advance on the two. Her words went unheeded. "Marion! He's got-" A knife appeared in the man's hand, its blade glinting in the faint light. It was too bright, too polished for steel. Because it wasn't, and Irena had no more time to warn. It was time to act. "MARI!" The girl screamed one more time, throwing herself into the vampire's side, knocking her out of the way. Marion staggered to the side, the man released from her grip, and he took the opportunity to brandish his silver knife in her direction. Mari's eyes darkened, and when she moved as if to step forward again Irena's palm shot out, knocking her shoulder back and causing her to stumble. "Get back!" Irena hissed, before whirling to face their attacker. "Don't you hurt her! Don't you dare!" She spat, eyes wild. Satisfied that Mari wouldn't approach again, she adopted her fighting stance. Her feet shifted til one leg was behind her, halfway into a lunge. Her hands formed into fists, raised to protect her core. I have to knock that knife away. It's the only thing he could use that would harm Mari. Then we can take him out. He hesitated for a moment, then struck. His movements were clumsy, easy enough to block. Irena effortlessly wove forward, too close now to turn the knife against her, then let loose a flurry of punches into his abdomen. As he coughed, she ducked and tumbled out of the way, springing to her feet behind him. She aimed the heel of her foot into his kidney, eliciting a scream. "What's the matter?" She taunted. "Do you expect me to play nicer than this?" Sweeping a leg out, she knocked him to his back, staying out of reach as she circled the prone man. "Will you scream? I bet you liked it when they did. It makes no difference to us, though there is some poetic justice to be had if you do." He rolled and staggered to his feet, bracing one hand on his knee. It was the window Irena needed, and she lunged for the arm he was using to hold the knife. But she hadn't given Lladwyr enough credit. Or perhaps, like Marion, she had given herself too much. Quick as lightning, the man pivoted, lashing out with his blade and sinking it into the meaty flesh of Irena's abdomen. It was Irena's turn to scream as she scrambled backwards, one hand already clamped to her side. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she glared, eyes full of hatred. "I will be...the last girl you will ever hurt." She promised, voice low. Lladwyr lifted his knife again, but it was too late. Irena was suddenly in front of his face, elbow being driven into his breastbone. She whirled around, grasping his arm near the shoulder and twisting, tearing the tendons and ripping a shriek from his throat. His knife pinwheeled uselessly in the air as it fell from his grip before being effortlessly snatched by the small girl, who threw it down the alleyway with all her might. She turned and aimed a tiny fist at his throat, crushing his windpipe before springing away, throwing herself out of his reach as he stumbled. Irena landed in the dirt, one hand once more drawn to her side to probe at her wound. It was slight, no real damage done. The threat dealt with, she turned her attention to her waiting companion, eyes aglow once more. "[redacted] him up, Mari." |
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| Marion | Mon Dec 18, 2017 1:47 am Post #22 |
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[removed] him up, Mari. Like a dog let off the leash, Marion sprung. Crossing the alley within seconds, her hands found the man’s shoulders and she tossed him down on the ground. He didn’t resist; after Irena’s flurry of attacks, pain after pain after pain rendered his mind slow, his reflexes poor. Face down in the alleyway, he began trying to pull himself up—a moment later, Marion was on his back, knees digging into the bloom of his spine. She was gone, now. Not half-gone, but gone—she heard nothing but the pounding of his heart, strong and fast and afraid, no, this was not fear, this was terror, this was the knowledge of inevitable death. It filled her head, it filled her body, she felt as if she pulsed along with him, until at last she sank her teeth into his neck and ripped him open and he screamed, and she laughed, the blood filling her mouth and her throat, and he screamed and he screamed and writhed beneath her, and she forced him down into the gravel, alive and electric in a way she had never been before. How holy, how glorious, the blood. Only once before had she tasted it. A few nights ago, during the raid of Eshan’s family manor. He’d used magic to force her off the boy. We still need him, he’d said, and then killed him himself in the sewer. Now Marion knew how to kill, just like Eshan, she could do it too, and this time it was a man who no one still needed. But he wouldn’t stop moving. Marion lifted her head, and with the practiced skill of a hunter, snapped his neck. And only once he stopped moving, once she was sure of herself, did she lean back in and gorge herself on the eternal crimson bloom of his life. |
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| Irena | Fri Dec 29, 2017 1:46 am Post #23 |
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Irena wasn't sure how much the man was able to register in his terror, but from her vantage point she could clearly see that Marion had done him a small mercy by breaking his neck, even if that was not her original intent. The vampire had torn him open like an overripe peach, and as his body finally went slack the only sounds to fill the alley were the entirely unpleasant noises of Marion's...eating. The girl couldn't imagine how he must have felt in his final moments, the distinct realization that there was something above him on the food chain after all. She squashed it down and hardened her heart. The countless girls before her had probably felt the same drummings of fear in their final moments. This was more than he deserved. Nervously, she scanned their surroundings, mindful of any lanterns being lit or windows being opened. Their frenzy didn't seem to have attracted any attention after all, but it was still best not to linger. On the ground, Marion wrenched the man's corpse upwards, as if to hold it closer to her mouth. The well must be running dry. Irena cleared her throat. "Marion..I think he's about..done, you know? He was past death like five minutes ago. There's nothing else for you to eat here." The other girl ignored her and clutched her prize tighter, teeth still buried in the cretin's throat. Irena collected her bag from where it had been thrown, then timidly approached the two. "Hey." She said softly, reaching out one foot to nudge Marion's leg. "We need to-" Quick as lightning, Marion had whirled around, hand outstretched to strike. Irena was barely able to tumble backwards and avoid the blow, falling roughly onto her back. "What the [redacted]?? What was that fo-" Her words died in her throat as she heaved herself into a sitting position. Marion had let the body fall back to the street with a muffled thump, its skin paper white save for the gruesome wound ripped into their neck and shoulder. It could not hold her attention any more, it seemed. Instead, she crouched on her heels, hands skimming forward onto the cobblestones as if to crawl forward. The crystal blue of her eyes had been replaced with the black void of her pupil, huge and dark as she regarded Irena the way a cat might take note of an interesting insect. "Mari.." Irena whispered, feet scrabbling against the street to push herself backwards. The movement caught Marion's gaze, and Irena watched with growing horror as the other girl's eyes trailed up the length of Irena's body to the growing, bloodied gash in her shirt. "Oh.." She said softly, not sure she made any noise at all. I guess there is still something to eat after all. |
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| Marion | Sat Dec 30, 2017 9:12 pm Post #24 |
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Marion tossed the body down. There was another body here with blood. She could hear the heartbeat, holy in Irena’s chest. It quickened as Marion crawled toward her. That singular jolt smeared a grin across Marion’s mouth. All her teeth had sharpened, a row of tiny knives on top and a row of tiny knives below, perfect for severing open an artery. The ends of her black hair were wet with blood, locks matted together as it began to coagulate. It dried into the lines of her palms. It streaked down her mouth. The tip of her nose was rusty with blood. And her eyes—entirely pupil now—were locked on Irena’s side, where the knife had slit her open just enough for the metallic scent to fill the entire street. Marion lunged. She caught Irena’s throat in her hand. But before she lowered her head to bite, she searched Irena’s face, searched for the sound of a frantic heartbeat. All the better to eat you with. In this area of Balefire, the constables didn’t make a habit of nightly patrols. Inspector Hawthorn had not quite given up on this district—a combination of idealism and rugged determination prevented her from abandoning these streets. She was equally as dangerous as the criminals that lurked here. The fangs in her mouth proved as much. She’d been bitten in her old age. She’d already retired from the sheriffs when the monster came for her. But she hadn’t died—she’d mutated, become the very thing that tried to kill her, and thus restored to life. Restored to the force. She hadn’t given up on Balefire in life—she wouldn’t do it in her unlife, either. As she turned a corner, and saw the body in the street, and the one woman on her back, gripped by the throat, Hawthorne knew what to do because she was the same kind of monster. She loaded up her crossbow with a silver arrow and marched forward. Edited by Marion, Sat Dec 30, 2017 9:13 pm.
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| Irena | Sat Dec 30, 2017 10:10 pm Post #25 |
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The vampire that had once been Irena’s friend began to crawl forward, the lower half of her face dripping with still drying blood and gore. Vampires must not follow table etiquette. Her brain supplied, forcing her to hold back an entirely inappropriate fit of giggles. You’re losing it. The more helpful corner of her mind whispered. She tried in vain to compose herself, to think of any scrap of plan, but instead she just continued backing up until her body was flush with the wall behind her. She’d watched Marion cut down a man much larger than herself. And that was when she was still a person. This thing that was creeping towards her...well, there would be no holding back, or bravado anymore. It would be quick. It would be efficient. Here lies Irena, eaten by her only friend. She twisted her lips together again, locking away another fit of insane laughter. Under the dim lantern light, the crimson liquid staining Mari’s face provided an exceptional haunting contrast to her skin, which was still clear from her cheekbones up, like some kind of gruesome mask. Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood. Words half remembered from a storybook Irena read half a lifetime ago. Here is my princess. Look what big teeth she has. Marion was close now, level with Irena’s eyes. The vampire reached out one hand to grab Irena roughly by the throat, and Irena surprised them both by stretching out a hand of her own. Gently, she rested her fingers against Mari’s temple, the tenderness of the action shocking the vampire into stillness for a moment. “I hope you remember, after...that I said goodbye. So...goodbye, Mari.” She said roughly, before leaning forward to close the distance between them. Entirely aware of how exposed she had made the smooth column of her throat, she settled her lips against the untouched skin on Mari’s forehead, barely making contact. It was enough to make her heart explode into a fit of palpitations, and though the vampire’s skin was cold, Irena’s lips burned from the gentle kiss. In for a penny, in for a pound. She decided, throwing all remaining self preservation out the window as she threaded her fingers into the thick mass of Mari’s glossy hair. The hand that Marion had been using to grasp Irena’s throat began to move again, its grip relaxing without entirely letting go. Irena could feel the other girl’s thumb break free and begin to gently skim over the surface along Irena’s jawline, eliciting an involuntary sound from her own vocal cords. In one of her many mistakes that night, while Irena had been preoccupied with her impending death, she had forgotten to keep one ear open for interlopers.Thus, she was only vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps, too sluggish to react to the quiet click of a quarrel being loaded into a crossbow. Entirely too late, until the force of the blow ripped Mari from her arms. The vampire rolled and screamed on the ground, an inhuman shriek ripping its way free from her lungs, hands pawing at a growing wound on her shoulder. On the ground behind her, a shiny silver arrow had skittered to a stop on the cobblestones, bathed in blood. What.. Irena fought through the haze of her thoughts, senses only sharpening when she registered another click in the distance. She was faster, this time. Even as her muscles burned with the sudden exertion, she twisted around and flung her hand outward, momentarily able to see the dim lantern light bounce off the shiny surface of the coming projectile. Her fingers closed around the body of the arrow, friction burning her palm as she snatched it out of its intended path...right towards Mari’s core. Quickly, she flung the wretched thing aside, whirling back to face their attacker. “What are you doing??” She screamed as the constable stepped into view, hands ready to load another shot. "Saving your ass," said Hawthorne. "I wasn't aiming for you, I was aiming for her!" "Stop [redacted]ing shooting!" Irena shrieked back, hands in the air to deflect another blow if the woman took the opportunity. "She didn't do anything!" "She had you by the throat! I know what I saw." Hawthorne stepped closer, the crossbow poised and ready. "Who killed him?" She gestured to the man with a cock of her head, eyeing the wound on his throat. "Wasn't you." "He.." Irena swallowed the lump in her throat, at once keenly aware of how bad this all looked. "He attacked me. It was self defense." She finished quietly. Why won't you turn her in? What hold has she got on you? The sheriff wondered. Hawthorne inched closer. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid," she said. "I won't even hurt her, okay? But she can't be in public like this." Irena hadn't been in Balefire long, but she was no fool. She knew about Zakona. Knew that once Marion was marked, that would be the end. "You can't take her." She said weakly, stance already losing conviction as she realized their situation. Mari was still a screaming mess on the ground. Irena herself was injured. And the constable was whole and hale, with a shiny silver crossbow and a sharp set of fangs of her own, if the light didn't deceive her. "I've got to," said Hawthorne. "She your friend? Listen. If she was before, she isn't now. She hasn't got any mind left. The chances of her coming back from this and being herself, they're slim to none.” She sighed through her nose, though whether it was sympathy or derision was hard to tell. “We aren’t all like this.” She clutched the strap of her bag, heart already sinking with the choice she was about to make. I'm sorry, Mari... Raising her head to meet the officer's gaze, she glared. "You're right. She's nothing like you. You took your sweet time getting here, a little late for me. A lot late for about twenty other girls. She-" Irena jerked her head at Mari's prone form, the vampire's cries starting to quiet into whimpers. "did something about it. So you're right. She's not like you. She's better." As her sentence came to a close, Irena sprang away towards the side of the alley wall, hands gripping loose bricks as she hauled herself upwards, even as the sheriff shouted behind her. Hearing the telltale click of the crossbow bolt, she swung her body sideways, using her knee to smash the closed window to her right, throwing herself inside even as the glass tumbled down around her. Crumpling to the floor for a moment, she heard Mari's screams rise again briefly, as if even through her pain she could sense she was being abandoned. Better than me too, Mari. Irena thought, hesitating as she stared out the now open window. But in the end, the girl stayed true to her nature, and fled. Edited by Irena, Sat Dec 30, 2017 11:05 pm.
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| Marion | Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:52 am Post #26 |
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Marion lay on a cold cement slab facing the brick wall behind her. A trickle of water ran in a steady rivulet from the ceiling to the floor. Everywhere the thin leak touched was darker, in the same way the blood had stained the pavement like ink. The previous hours came to her in flashes: her teeth in his throat, his blood pooling beneath him, Irena’s wound. Two days ago she told Eshan they couldn’t be friends because he had killed twice in one evening. A scrawny boy who didn’t deserve it and his father. Now she lay here, wholly alive, warm in a way she had never felt before—she was aware of every hair on her head, of every nerve in the tips of her fingers. Her mind was alert, aware, the cogs in her mind spinning. All her life until tonight had passed in fog, in dream. Tonight, for the first time, she was awake and alive and it was the blood that had done it, the murder. Tonight she’d become what she really was. What she had been all her life. She’d stopped fighting. Wondrous as her body felt, her heart was broken. She’d given in. She’d become the worst thing. More than guilt, more than heartbreak, she felt panic. They would mark her a zakona, if they even released her from the cell. This brick wall and the bars could be her room for the next however many years, until they saw fit to release her. Maybe because she was young they would put her in a rehabilitation program, or maybe because the scene had been so bloody they would send her straight to the gallows. Marion covered her mouth with her palm and swallowed down a hopeless cry. It was Irena’s fault. All of this. The murder had been Irena’s idea. And Irena had abandoned her. Humans couldn’t withstand the terror of monstrosity. Marion blamed her, but didn’t blame her—maybe she would have run, too, if their places were switched. “You ready to give us a name, kid?” Marion didn’t reply. The officers had been trying to get her to speak for since her mind returned perhaps an hour ago. Maybe it had been less than that. Maybe more. As soon as she started speaking, that would be the end of it—as long as she lay here facing the wall, curled up, cradling her shoulder, they would think her head was still fuzzy with instinct. “I’m telling you, Sergeant, she looks just like that Brooks,” said one of the officers, retreating from the holding cell. “She’s too young. Brooks is an adult.” “Magic could alter her appearance.” “Do you really think Cordelia Brooks would get caught like this? She’s damned near a professional. This is just a kid.” A commotion drew their attention to the door, as a bedraggled figure stumbled inside, arms wrapped around her stomach. The girl was doubled over, weeping hysterically. "Help me!" She sobbed, voice high and frightened. "I need the police! He..he stabbed me!" Spreading her hands slightly, she revealed the crusted over gash in her shirt, the crimson stain blooming across the fabric. "I..it hurts!" She hiccuped, still bent over at the waist, long hair obscuring her features. Marion’s breath caught in her throat. Is that—Irena? “Gods!” The deputy at the desk stood up at once. Beside him was another officer, who rushed over to help the girl. “Come here, sit down!” he said. They were the only two in the office: it was a small, satellite station, with only three holding cells. The younger officer rushed to the girl's side, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder to guide her. The young woman's hand crept up to his, closing around his wrist as she straightened upright at last. "No thanks." Irena said breezily. "I prefer to stand." She punctuated her statement with a sharp kick to his shin as she held him in place, her other hand jabbing into the soft tissue between his jaw and neck. The officer shrieked and went down like a brick, allowing Irena the perfect vantage to drive her knee into his face, the blow knocking him unconscious or dead. Irena didn't much care which it was. Marion sat up. Across the station she heard the sounds of a fight—the sounds of a body hitting the floor, the sounds of bones crunching. Standing from the cement slab, she went to the bars, but the cell was at an angle. She couldn’t see, even as she turned her head, what was happening at the front of the station. “Irena?” she called out, and then, daring hope, “Irena!” The soft clinking of keys proceeded her arrival before Irena appeared around the doorway, leaning against the frame as she twirled the ring around her hand. "The security here is abysmal." She said mildly. "Sorry I'm late. Had to go stitch myself up a bit." The girl dragged up the corner of her shirt, revealing the freshly closed wound in her pale skin, scrubbed clean of blood. "The deputy had the gall to point a crossbow at me. I couldn't let that happen for the second time tonight, so I took it from him." Marion stared in wonder at Irena, at the ring of keys in her hand and at the stitching in her side. Even as she tried to blink away the shock, it seeped deeper into her, taking root in her stomach and blossoming into something embarrassingly moved. “You came back,” she said. Irena's eyes softened as her smirk faded away. "Of course I did." She said quietly, a million emotions subtly shifting across her face in seconds. Abruptly, she tossed the keys through the cell bars where Marion caught them on instinct. "You need to take these." The girl commanded. "Because I need to tell you something, and I don't want you to be trapped in there while I say it. I want you to choose to stay and listen." Marion ran her fingers over the keys. Somehow they felt more metallic than they would have before, just as Irena looked more. It was the blood, heightening Marion’s senses. “You’ve got my attention,” she said. “Spit it out.” Irena closed the distance between them as she began to speak. "I know that nothing means anything, and destiny is bullshit, and the universe has no plan for any of us. Everything you said at the house. But I still believe I was meant to meet you. Or maybe I just want that to be true so badly that I'm willing to lie to myself that I believe it." Her hands curled around the cell bars as she stared into Marion's eyes, her head craned upwards to see the taller girl. "And even if that's not true, I still would like to spend some small part of my useless, nothing life...with you. If you'll let me stay, that is." “What is this,” said Marion, “a marriage proposal?” All the same she grinned, peering down at Irena through the bars. No one had ever come back for her before. She hadn’t even considered Irena would come. It hadn’t been an option. And now she was here, in front of her, forgiving her for the mess she’d made, for losing her mind. She was here to save her from what a murder in Balefire after the Taming could mean for her life. A knot swelled up in Marion’s throat. Reaching through the bars, she cupped Irena’s jaw in her hands, tilted her head up just enough, and leaned through to kiss her. |
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8:39 AM Jul 11

