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Post by Kelathi on May 1, 2019 20:08:27 GMT
He didn’t seem to know what to say, which she supposed was to be expected. Clearly, Rhea singing his praises was the last thing that he had expected, and truth be told it wasn’t exactly something she had thought she would be doing any time soon. But it had been said now and there was no taking it back. She dropped her gaze from his, taking another drink. At his next, soft words, her eyes flickered back up to his. It took her a moment to formulate a reply. She wasn’t certain, of course, not 100%. Until recently she had thought him just like any other man- dangerous, untrustworthy and selfish. His actions had blown her assumptions completely out of the water, and the fact that he still had to ask her why… gave her reason to pause. She was certain he had done bad things in his life; you can’t exactly be in his line of work without doing so. But protecting her from bounty hunters, taking an arrow for her and more recently, showing that he cared more about her than the tiara he was supposed to be salvaging from her…
She would have liked to blame it on the alcohol, but considering she had only taken a few sips of her drink, she couldn’t really use that as her excuse for what soon followed. She stood up, walking round the table swiftly and with purpose. As he turned to face her questioningly, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek, tilting his head up gently towards her, and then leaned down and guided him towards her lips. It happened quickly, Rhea appearing calm and in control in the few seconds that had passed between standing and kissing. Even so, her heart was thudding almost painfully in her rib-cage, not sure how her action would be received, and not even entirely sure why she had chosen to do this in the first place. The desire had suddenly gripped her, startling in its intensity, and Rhea was an individual who worked on instinct, often acting before she had time to think things through. This was one such moment, and now she was acting upon that desire her mind was racing, working overtime to figure out if she should pull back, whilst every essence of her being wanted to do nothing of the sort.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 2, 2019 17:00:15 GMT
His nearly muttered remark seemed to finally still Rhea’s tongue, keeping his gaze away from hers in case they’d meet. Then she was standing, and Ciaran was certain she was finally fed up with him and leaving.
Except she wasn’t leaving, instead coming closer. Ciaran looked up, confused at her closing the distance and about to question her when her hand touched his cheek, gently holding it. HIs eyes went wide and still at the touch, expression blank as she pulled their faces together.
For the first several moments, Ciaran was motionless, stilled by shock… and a lack of knowledge of what to do next. Then, slowly, he began to return it, a passion there that was restrained primarily by being so unsure. This wasn’t like their kiss under the influence of the potion, where it was unbridled if untrained. Here, it was hesitant but longing, more reciprocating in kind, eagerly, rather than initiating. His hand had moved up towards to her side, but as haltingly as ever, did not quite make contact, still very aware of her reaction to his touch before.
As careful, as eager, as passionate as Ciaran was… he was also confused. This feeling was being pushed aside as the others took over, but… Rhea was kissing him. Kissing him.
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Post by Kelathi on May 3, 2019 18:55:53 GMT
He’s… not kissing back.
She’d made a mistake. Why on Earth had she decided to do this? He’d asked her how she could be so sure, and he had looked at her with such a pained expression that she’d known that any words would fall short. How could she be sure? Well, he had protected her on more than one occasion, and almost died for her at one point, and that was after all the trouble she’d given him. Wasn’t that reason enough?
But that wasn’t all, was it? There was something else, a reason why she was speaking in this way.
And then in that moment she knew exactly how she could show him how she felt about him without the need for words. The urge to move towards him had struck her suddenly and with startling intensity, and it had seemed the right thing to do in the split second upon which she had decided.
But she could see now that it had been a mistake. He was motionless, not returning the kiss. She’d misjudged, she should pull back, and she should…
Just as she was about to pull away, Ciaran had begun to reciprocate. Her heart performed a small somersault, and for the first time in a very long time she felt butterflies in her stomach. This wasn’t like before, this was different, somehow. There was nothing fogging up her reason other than her own reeling feelings, and there was not enough alcohol in her system to influence her, nor any presence of amatorium. For a moment, she lost herself in the kiss, but then, suddenly, she stiffened. She had suddenly realized where they were, that they were not alone but instead in a room full of people. The thought was enough for her to break contact, pulling away a breath… but then she had paused, fighting a silent battle with herself as she wavered on the precipice of reason, both wanting to continue the kiss and pull away at the same time.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 4, 2019 3:45:17 GMT
He was being an idiot.
Ciaran knew this, even as he could feel Rhea push into the kiss, his hand finally meeting her side out of a need for more contact, but stiff and uncertain how to ask to bring her in closer. Oh god, how much he wanted to pull her in closer… but he knew what that meant. He’d tried everything to protect himself from what would happen next, and yet here he was, ready to give Rhea whatever she might want… just like he had been with Narisse.
But then she stiffened, pulling away just enough to break the connection. Ciaran’s eyes opened again, not even sure when they’d closed, watching her with an unreadable expression. In truth, he was confused. Confused as to why she began to kiss him, why she had stopped, why she always managed to skip around every effort to keep feelings for her aside. He wasn’t nearly as aware of their surroundings as she had become, not caring if they were seen, as jaded as he had become from Narisse’s openly flirtatious manner.
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Post by Kelathi on May 8, 2019 21:46:31 GMT
Had he claimed her lips then, she would have once again lost herself in the moment. But, for how long? Eventually, she would have to come back down to Earth, sooner or later their lips would have to separate and she would have to face what had happened. That moment came all too soon, as she found herself suddenly and unceremoniously plunged back into reality. His hesitance and her momentary pause gave her just enough time to become self-conscious, her attention moving immediately to their surroundings, and Rhea was certain that she could feel the pressure of countless phantom gazes, despite the fact that no-one was actually paying any attention to them. She suddenly became starkly aware of Ciaran’s hand at her side… and even though her body had welcomed its presence without question just moments before, she found herself pulling abruptly away. As she straightened she simultaneously backed away a step, and she began to speak, her expression unreadable and eyes wide as she tried to get a grip on her emotions. At the look on Ciaran’s face, she found herself uttering a rushed apology, “I… I’m sorry…” She babbled.
She was angry with herself. Not just for initiating the kiss, but also for ending it, and in that moment she was not even sure which she was actually apologizing for. But then she had turned tail, not waiting around to see his expression or response, whatever they would be. She just knew she had to get away.
***
She felt like an utter fool.
Why had she deigned it necessary to kiss him? Why could she not have done something, anything else? Used her words instead of reckless, unprompted actions? Her feelings for him had been creeping up on her slowly, so gradually that she hadn’t even admitted them to herself yet, and had not really acknowledged their presence until the moment she had realized that she was going in for a kiss. She needed to pull back, give herself chance to think about this… Because if she wasn’t sure of what she wanted, it would be better to stop it now before things got out of hand. Recalling the look of confusion on Ciaran’s face as she had pulled away… it twisted her heartstrings, and where there once were butterflies, she was now left with an aching sense of hollowness.
She was walking now, but where was she going? Away… that’s all she knew. Away from Ciaran and away from Cathal. Not indefinitely, she just needed time to think. Ciaran… had returned the kiss, she was certain of that. He had also seemed to want to pull her in closer, his desires mirroring her own in that heated moment. Why, then, was she running away? If they felt the same about each other, why was she not just consumed with happiness? Why did the thought fill her instead with panic, and reeling, uncontrollable thoughts of ‘what if’ scenarios?
Because she was afraid. She was afraid of opening herself up to him, of pursuing their feelings, and of allowing herself to be vulnerable to him and not in control. Rhea was a mixed bag of insecurities and suspicions, of distrust and fear when it came to matters of the heart. She was afraid of drawing Ciaran in lest she only end up pushing him away, she was afraid that if it didn’t all work out, that she would hurt him. And what if things did work out? If things went right, there would come a time when kisses and gentle touches would not be enough to sate him. The thought sent a lance of fear through her heart as memories of something she’d kept repressed all these years began to resurface. She knew what came next, and she wasn’t ready to face that.
Better to just pull away. If she pulled away, she’d remain safe. She wouldn’t have to hurt him, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt her…
Looking back on this moment later, she really wished that she’d been paying attention to her surroundings.
The hand closed over her mouth at the same time that the arm wrapped around her middle. But Rhea reacted immediately, her body responding before her mind had chance to process what was happening. Instinctively, she bit down- hard. She tasted metal and heard the shriek of pain, but she was already jamming her elbow back, which collided neatly with his stomach. Then she was tearing out of his arms and racing down the street…
And colliding with another man, as he stepped out from the shadows and right into her path. He grappled with her for a moment, grabbing her wrists and trying to still her writhing form. She managed to utter a vehement and breathless ‘bastard’ before she began to feel the familiar pain burning up her arm, and she knew by now that this was a mere precedent for what was to come. Then, the full brunt of it hit her swiftly, just as intense as before. Immediately, her vision blurred and the world swayed around her, her efforts to get away abruptly weakened as she was forced to try and focus instead on merely keeping conscious.
Any time, but now!
As she felt herself begin to faint, her legs no longer supporting her, she thought she heard a familiar voice, laced with anger rather than concern, but not one that she could place right now with the steadily encroaching darkness…
“What the hell did you do to her?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 16, 2019 4:03:37 GMT
How could he do it? Be so foolish, so… bloody stupid? How could he be so stupid again?
Rhea had departed quickly, leaving Ciaran in a mixed state of confusion, desire and pain. Had he done something wrong then? Had he hesitated too much? Pushed too hard? As his gaze fell back to the table, he didn’t see the curious looks from the few patrons who watched the scene, trying to work out what he had done, what had gone wrong. As any would, he looked to his memories for any hints about how to respond to this sort of situation.
All he had to go on was his experience with one person, one who had started and stopped everything that happened between them. She’d been amused at his inexperience and uncertainty, eager to take charge, knowing he was hers completely, to do with as she pleased.
And, as it turned out, to discard.
As the comparisons loomed large in his mind, Ciaran resumed his drinking, even pushing the amount he’d intended originally, anything to dull the memories, the emotions that ran rampant with them. While he didn’t get them all dulled, at least by the time he went back to the room only anger remained, with Rhea for bringing up long buried memories… and himself for letting her.
Cathal woke as Ciaran came in, stretching languidly and yawning, about to offer a greeting when he paused, watching the closed door for several long, silent moments. “Where’s Rhea?” he finally asked, his rumbling voice quickly growing alert as it grew concerned. At the question Ciaran paused, but let out a controlled sigh - quite the feat, given his lack of sobriety.
“She left me at the tavern,” he answered in an attempt to be dismissive, his tone clearly revealing an expectation for her to have run off on her own. As if it was predictable that she’d leave as soon as she had a real opportunity. Surely that was why she was playing at being friendly… he’d done nothing to garner affection from her, actively pushing her away. And he had captured her, so escaping made sense. Any connections Ciaran had begun to feel were fake, just as fake as Narisse’s affections had been. Perhaps she had influenced how he’d view such feelings…
“When?” Cathal questioned, rising to his feet as his concern doubled. He could easily smell the heavy odor of alcohol on him, able to tell that something had happened between the two, but… “She never came back… where could she have gone?”
Ciaran had begun to kneel by their bags piled on the floor, using the wall for balance. At Cathal’s words, he paused, looking back over at him. “She… didn’t come for her belongings?” he asked, sounding wary rather than merely confused, as if suspicious of Rhea not doing as he expected. No bow? No tiara? No… anything? Cathal shook his head, looking towards the door. Ciaran’s eyes, meanwhile, moved to the window behind the tiger, studying the color of the evening sky. “The curse…” Ciaran mused to himself, all too easily recalling the pain she was in just the night before, how vulnerable she had been…
Cathal didn’t need a translation of Ciaran’s next few words, but the meaning was clear enough. The assassin rose to his feet, sheathed sword in hand as he began purposefully for the door - but swayed, and nearly growled when he realized the only reason he didn’t fall to the floor was that Cathal had moved to catch him, his sheer size keeping Ciaran on his feet, if not fully balanced.
“You’re in no condition to go chasing after anyone,” the tiger noted simply, earning a momentary glare before Ciaran’s concern overwrote his pride. “Then what?” he asked, less angered than frustrated at the situation. Cathal smiled a little then; “I lead, you follow. And,” he added, clearly about to suggest something that was a hotly contested topic, “If necessary, I’ll carry you.” Ciaran nearly winced at the suggestion, the adrenaline helping to sober him up, but not immediately. “Only if necessary,” he muttered to the satisfaction of the tiger, straightening up as Cathal led the way out of the inn and to the street, growling softly as he recognized a few scents. Ciaran knew what the sounds meant, a new shot of adrenaline lacing him as his heart grew cold. They ran off into the night, their steps soft and steady.
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Post by Kelathi on May 23, 2019 22:43:55 GMT
Waking was slow work.
Just like last time, it wasn’t until the next morning that Rhea finally awoke from her curse-induced slumber. Immediately, she knew something was wrong. Although she couldn’t place the feeling immediately, she felt the tension in her gut even before she fully noted the strange position of her arms. As she gradually came to, she was able to attribute the stiffness in her arms to the fact that her wrists were tied behind her back, and as feeling returned to the rest of her body she was aware that she was lying on her side rather uncomfortably on the ground. She noted the strong smell of earth that told her she was outdoors, and as she slowly blinked her eyes open, squinting against the morning light, she could see a sideways world of undergrowth and trees, as well as hear the twittering of birds, high above from unseen perches.
As soon as the memories of the evening before flooded in, she was hit by a sudden sense of urgency, and she began to try and push herself up. The sudden movement caused blood to rush to her head, so she found herself falling back down immediately, her world pitching violently. Suppressing a groan, she turned halfway onto her back, closing her eyes against the spinning sky, and forced herself to take it slow. After a few moments the dizziness had subsided, so she took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. This time she moved slowly, easing herself awkwardly into a sitting position. A quick look around revealed that she wasn’t, as she had first assumed, alone after all. Just a few feet from her lay a sleeping man, and as her gaze roamed over the scene she could see several others, surrounding a fire that was now merely a pile of cinders. Although many of the faces were unfamiliar, some she could recognise with ease.
Well, it seemed Ciaran had been right to be concerned about putting distance between themselves and the bandits. Rhea had thought it overkill at the time- sure, she had history with the leader, but she had thought she was hardly that important to be followed so far. She of course, hadn’t taken into account the men’s greed; there was a bounty on her head, after all, which meant this went way beyond personal grudges. The payoff would be twofold, the leader would be able to settle some perceived debt that Rhea had caused by daring to leave when he still wanted use of her skills, and also be able to receive a good pay-out in the process. If she weren’t currently so concerned with escaping, she would have it in her mind to be annoyed at both herself and Ciaran. Herself, for underestimating the men, and Ciaran for being right about them…
Speaking of Ciaran, she had left him at the tavern, hadn’t she? A flash of regret was quickly followed by a wave of concern, closely followed by an all-consuming helplessness. She hadn’t handled the situation delicately, her feelings colouring her actions and causing her to one minute, be affectionate, and the next, stand-offish and cold. Upon recalling the pained, confused look that had been on his face as she had left… she felt a sharp pang of guilt. She shouldn’t have left it like that, and now, she wasn’t sure if she’d get the chance to make things right. It was perfectly possible that Ciaran would think she had simply left after what had happened, and so wouldn’t end up looking for her. If… no, when she managed to escape from these bandits, how would she find Ciaran and Cathal again, to set things right? How far had the bandits taken her? She shook herself mentally, then- she needed to focus on the immediate problem at hand; she could deal with the rest later. First of all, she needed to give these people the slip.
Slowly, carefully, Rhea began to shuffle away. It was difficult work trying not to rouse the men from their slumber, when all about her lay crispy leaves that crinkled and crackled accusingly with her every movement. She winced every time she made a sound, but although it seemed thunderously loud to her ears, not one of the small group seemed to become alert to her furtive movements. When she was far enough away to dare, she fiddled about with her position, tucking in her knees and pulling her bound hands from behind her, looping them beneath her, until finally they were at her front. Then, slowly and stealthily, she stood up, taking a tentative step back, her eyes wide and flitting from one person to another, looking out for any sign that she had alerted them…
…as she backed into something.
Spinning around revealed that it wasn’t actually an assailant, but just a tree. Even so, her heart was now hammering in her chest, and she glanced once more at the men behind her to check that they had not been disturbed, before stealing away.
Or at least attempting to, for it was at that moment she met the gaze of the man walking up the hill towards her.
There was a momentary pause as both merely regarded each other, looking equally surprised. Then she was running, abandoning all hope of being quiet.
***
Although she had heard the man call to the others to rouse them, she only heard one set of running footsteps above her own, at least for now. Bound as she was, it was difficult to run effectively and certainly slowed her down somewhat, which meant he was close on her tail, the strong desire to escape and the adrenalin pounding through her veins giving her the extra edge that kept her one step ahead of him. “Give it up, Rhea!” He shouted after her, which she could only just about hear above the roaring off blood in her ears. She was just debating whether to sacrifice some precious energy in order to throw a few choice words back at him when her foot hit air instead of ground. A moment of stomach-flipping panic punctuated her sudden descent, and then she crashed to the floor, her arms cushioning her fall but not stopping her from rolling. The sudden drop had been steep, and the differences in the elevation of the ground would have been noted had she not merely been concentrating on running. Although the rest of the hill wasn’t at so steep an incline as the initial drop, the momentum kept her going, so she found herself spinning continuously, a rapid cycle of sky, leaves, and then sky again as she tumbled. The cry of surprise from behind informed her that she hadn’t been the only one to miss the drop, but for now all she could do was tuck in her arms and hope for the best- the best scenario being that her descent would be broken by eventually rolling to a stop… rather than from impact with a tree.
***
It seemed like forever before she finally rolled to a stop. Dizzy and light-headed, she immediately began to pick herself up despite gasping for a lungful of air, swaying and stumbling as she fought to keep her balance. Apart from scuffs of mud on her clothing and face, a few bruises on her body and remnants of the forest littering her hair, she had taken the fall relatively unscathed. Leaning against a tree as the world spun, she noticed the nearby body. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not, but she wasn’t about to wait around to find out.
She took a few steps away, stumbled, and fell to her hands and knees as a wave of nausea overcame her, courtesy of her tumble. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she tried again, but then suddenly she found herself crashing unceremoniously back to the ground with a yelp as something collided with her back, flattening her and causing the wind to abruptly leave her lungs.
The two tussled for a moment, Rhea thrashing about and managing to spin onto her back, kicking out but hitting nothing as the man strategically straddled her stomach. As she tried to hit out with her arms, he grasped her bound wrists and wrenched them away, pinning them to the ground above her head, growling into her face with a look of dark fury, “Just… stop… fighting!” Through laboured breathing, Rhea fixed her vehement gaze to his, and managed to spit out the words she had wanted to say earlier, with no-less venom despite the ragged delivery- “Fuck… you…!” as she continued to try and throw him off, despite knowing that with such a fervent display she was likely to burn out soon, which he was probably counting on. Meanwhile, she was trying to reach out to the power within her, imagining his shirt setting alight, but with her head still spinning from the fall and still feeling marginally weakened from the curse, she just couldn’t get a grasp on it.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 24, 2019 0:01:30 GMT
Cathal knew without a doubt that Ciaran was concerned about Rhea when he accquiesed to being carried for a time. His slowly sobering footsteps were too slow for him, and it became clear that it was risking Rhea’s safety to not speed up. Fortunately, Ciaran was good at holding his liquor, even if he got hangovers, so instead of becoming sick as the dawn broke through the trees, he gained a headache and his sobriety.
However, he’d also lost his patience.
The bandits, as Cathal was eventually able to identify them as, had hidden their trail well, with so many new members that it made tracking their scent more difficult than usual. With hunters from the town also leaving trails, they ended up following a few dead ends and wrong trails before finally picking up Rhea’s own scent. Cathal’s guess was, if caught in town, they might have bundled her up and helped disguise her smell. Even though it took the tiger a few hours to finally pick up Rhea’s trail reliably, Ciaran knew, even at his best, he’d have had little chance of finding her so quickly.
Ciaran’s concern and frustration was quickly vented on the bandits they encountered, first the patrol that they came across, then guards to the camp… All went down quietly, swiftly, a few to teeth, but mostly to a blade swiftly slicing their throat. The camp itself was quiet enough for the two to stalk around, weapons at the ready as they investigated the quiet scene. A few men were beginning to stir, talking about hearing voices, unsure of what was going on; Cathal laid his ears back as he watched, his pale fur camoflagued next to the tents. Ciaran was busy lifting the edge of the tents to see inside, looking for Rhea, when he heard a cry in the distance. A familiar sounding cry…
The sound alerted the few men who had awoken, but Cathal straightened as he looked to Ciaran. “Go,” he said simply yet softly, the assassin nodding as they finally broke cover. One man went down almost instantly as Ciaran charged past, Cathal making sure to land in the middle of a stockpile of bows, the wood snapping almost instantly under his weight before he went after the men, beginning to scatter them before they could reach their weapons.
The time it took Ciaran to arrive was gut wrenching, only able to confirm his direction at hearing cries that increased his pace. Fortunately, with his hangover he found himself having to watch his step to keep himself steady, which saved him from stumbling down the hill the same way the others had, managing to catch his step and simply rush down the steep incline rather than roll. It helped his speed, the shock of the sudden drop helping to clear his head, and clear his vision of what was going on at the bottom of the hill.
Rhea and the bandit were too busy fighting one another to notice his approach, but he didn’t keep his presence a secret for long. Still using the momentum from the hill, Ciaran charged into the man, his knee connecting hard with the man. HIs aim was off, so instead of hitting him in the head he got him in the shoulder, but it still sent the man flying off of Rhea, letting out a strangled cry. He’d been wounded in that shoulder, after all, from Ciaran’s own dagger.
Ciaran landed hard on the other side of Rhea, managing somehow to not hit her as he regained his feet, sword and dagger already out and ready to be used. The bandit finally regained some of his balance, on hands and knees before looking up at his assailant… and looking utterly shocked to see the man he had shot in the chest standing over Rhea, ready to disembowel him if his dark expression was any indication.
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Post by Kelathi on May 24, 2019 0:44:14 GMT
It all happened so fast; it took her a moment to register what exactly had taken place. But suddenly she could breathe freely again, she could see the sky instead of the bandit’s hateful face, and the man himself had been thrown violently to the side, abruptly freeing her…
Ciaran!?
She had never been so elated to see the assassin. She turned quickly onto her front and pushed herself up onto her knees, eyes wide as she stared at his back with a mixed look of relief and puzzlement. He had come for her? Even after everything? How many times now had he come to her aid, despite the trouble she had caused him, and not to mention the recent, albeit unintentional, mental fuckery? Despite seeing him with her own eyes, she was still marginally convinced that she was hallucinating. It just seemed too good to be true, that not only had he decided to come looking for her, but he had also managed to arrive in the nick of time.
The bandit was quick to scramble to his feet, noting the dark look of fury on his adversaries face, matching it with an equally dangerous look of his own as he drew his sword from the sheath at his side. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He snarled, anger overriding his pain, as well as his confusion at seeing this man still standing. As the light glinted off the blade, Rhea felt a lance of concern shoot through her being. Ciaran was more than capable of taking care of himself, but even so, she was wary for him, and she didn’t want him getting hurt on her account. Not wanting to distract him, she kept the words to herself, but inside, she was silently willing him to be careful. Once more, she tried to reach for her power, and once more she found it frustratingly inaccessible to her right now, so all she could do was watch the two helplessly.
“Is she really worth all this?” The man growled suddenly, perhaps surprisingly, instead of immediately attacking. He pointed the sword, but at Rhea, not Ciaran. “She’ll be a thorn in your side, mark my words, and one day she’ll stab you in the back.” Rhea’s eyes narrowed, gritting her teeth as she willed herself to stay silent. What had her great betrayal been? To leave the group, that was it. The bandit was furious that she had gone against his wishes, that she had dared to leave and managed to escape his control. And yet, he made out that it had been some deep betrayal, as if there had been more between them and she had left out of spite, trying to play on Ciaran’s emotions. The very thought of the man’s insinuation twisted her gut with revulsion, and she could only hope that the assassin saw his words for what they were, a manipulative ploy and a last-ditch attempt to avoid a fight.
The bandit continued, capitalizing on Ciaran’s hesitance and Rhea’s silence. “How about this, we take her in together, and put an end to all this. Split the bounty, 50/50.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 25, 2019 3:53:47 GMT
Ciaran’s intentions were punctuated by a slow step forward, but he hesitated as the man began to speak, again growing tense at the repeat of Rhea being a back-stabber. With his back to her, it was even more difficult to read his response, but after a few moments, he seemed to consider… and sheathed his sword.
The bandit looked victorious and eased his stance a little even as Ciaran took another step closer, his movements no longer stiff or tense. Ciaran even looked over his shoulder at Rhea, which encouraged the other man to move closer to him. But as the assassin began to speak again, his gaze returning to the bandit, his tone was anything but friendly.
“Only someone who’s never been betrayed would keep repeating those words.”
The man paused, looking over at Ciaran in confusion, but soon found his sword had to come into play as the dagger went for him. He just managed to knock the blade away from his side, stabbing the tip of his sword towards Ciaran as he recovered. The assassin took the edge of the sword against his arm, teeth already gritted in a silent snarl as he used the sudden proximity to his advantage, disarming his opponent easily in spite of his sword.
The bandit screeched as the dagger sank into his hand, piercing the far side even as Ciaran yanked it towards him, making sure the flat of his blade pinned the hand as he pulled. The man stumbled forward, but was caught quickly by the assassin’s hand around his throat, tight enough to make him begin to choke, only able to use one hand to try and pry his grip away.
“You should have left well enough alone,” Ciaran sneered, the man’s struggles quickly growing quieter as he ran out of air, “While your luck held out.”
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Post by Kelathi on May 29, 2019 14:52:53 GMT
Rhea had scrambled to her feet by the time the bandit had finished speaking, her head still spinning from their short grapple on the ground but feeling better for standing. She could see the tells in Ciaran’s body that he had tensed, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he might actually be considering what the man was saying. Despite all evidence to the contrary, with Ciaran saving her time and time again as well as his refusal to take the tiara, as he sheathed his sword, Rhea felt a flare of panic. As the assassin turned to regard her, her green eyes were wide with uncertainty, looking for all the world like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter. Even after everything, she still held doubt that the man would not decide to just throw up his hands and turn her over. Her expectation for eventual betrayal was ironic, considering the bandit was claiming that she would be the perpetrator of betrayal. Despite the urge to step back, the sudden urge to flee from them both… as their eyes met, something in his expression caused her to pause. Something in Ciaran’s gaze grounded her, and as he turned away, it soon became clear that her uncertainty had been misplaced as he turned instead on the bandit, his actions having been merely a ruse to draw the other into a false sense of security.
A successful ruse, at that, as the bandit was soon howling in pain. After losing his sword and finding himself in the assassin’s vice-like grip, it seemed for a moment that he was going to beg to be spared. But then, at the last moment, instead of fear, his face darkened with anger, and the word that he managed to spit out was not ‘please’, but ‘fool’…
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 31, 2019 4:10:00 GMT
Even though he was sneering, the coldness in his stilled expression was not one of malice or enjoyment of the situation. It was almost like an expression he had learned rather than felt himself. It was as much a mask as his stony facade.
The contrast didn’t stop him from dealing with the bandit. Ciaran had been proved right, after all; the man wouldn’t simply let Rhea go. His eyes narrowed at the man’s raspy growl, shaking his head a little. “Then what does that make you?” he asked softly, then swung the dagger into the man’s stomach. The man gasped, fingers twitching as they were hauled with the dagger, creating an eerie effect as the blade was dragged up, from chest through throat. Ciaran finally yanked his dagger free, the man’s injured hand having grasped his throat instinctively even as he fell, only letting out a soft gurgle before flattening down on the ground.
Ciaran’s breath was soft, but rough as he stepped away, looking down to the blade and the blood dripping off of it onto the grass, running across his hand. With a steadying breath, he knelt long enough to clean blade and hand with the bandit’s robe, then finally turned to Rhea, as if he was now ready for her. The dark look in his eyes had faded, now showing concern.
“Are you alright?” he asked, hesitating before approaching her, as if waiting to be given permission to approach.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 2, 2019 8:20:35 GMT
Despite the gruesome display, Ciaran’s actions as efficient as they were stone-cold, Rhea felt, of all things, relief. Her shoulders dropped as the tension left her, easing the clenching muscles in her back somewhat, even though she knew they were not necessarily in the clear, yet. Just as she was wondering if Ciaran knew of the others, she heard a distant scream, and realised that Cathal would be making quick work of them. She felt a wave of affection for the two then, as well as guilt, for they both had sacrificed their own wellbeing to come to rescue her.
It was crazy to think now, that she had thought Ciaran might turn on her. Granted, it had only been for a second, but the thought had entered her mind nonetheless. She felt sorry for this now, that she had done him a disservice for not trusting him, although she knew he would expect no less. Which of course would only make her feel worse to hear him admit such. She responded calmly to his words, “I’m fine, thanks to you...” but paused, eyes widening as his tunic began to bloom red on his arm. During the fight, the wound had not bled immediately, so she had thought the blade had only caught the fabric. Her eyes widened in response, stepping forwards quickly. “Ciaran, your arm!” Her concern was laced with anger, which was probably a little overkill considering the perpetrator of the wound was no longer capable of facing her anger... Anger which very quickly turned to a pained expression of regret, gaze flitting from the wound to meet his. If only she hadn’t left the tavern as she had, Ciaran wouldn’t be hurt, and him and Cathal wouldn’t have had to risk life and limb to save her.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 2, 2019 21:40:05 GMT
Fortunately, Rhea seemed fairly unfazed by his actions, responding calmly - at first. As her eyes went wide and her tone sharpened, his own blinked in surprise, looking down at his arm. Of all things, he made a bit of a face; another new tunic? Not an uncommon result of his trade, as his skin would attest to, but it was still damn annoying.
“It’s nothing,” Ciaran quickly dismissed, suppressing a flinch at waving his arm a moment too late to catch it. “We should head back to town, before any other bandits show up,” he added, not so subtly trying to change topics, sheathing his dagger and beginning to head up the hill. Cathal appeared at its crest, looking down upon the scene below, relieved to see his two cubs safe. His own mouth and paws were visibly red even from that distance, and given the quiet, the only bandits left in the camp were slain. Ciaran’s methods were often aggressive and vicious, but in this case, the tiger knew that he was right to prevent future attacks.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 2, 2019 22:28:11 GMT
Rhea didn’t stop the roll of her eyes upon hearing the return of the slight variation of the dreaded ‘I’m fine’ phrase. As Ciaran tried to deflect, turning away and clearly ready to march away, Rhea instead marched towards him, reaching out and touching his uninjured arm with her hands. She knew well enough by now that arguing with words was not about to slow him, but the touch, however gentle, was enough to stall him for at least a moment. Now with his attention, instead of offering an argument, she lifted and offered her wrists… revealing that they were still bound.
“That’s all well and good, but will you at least untie me first?” she spoke with a hint of amusement in her voice.
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