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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Nov 17, 2019 16:45:15 GMT
Remake of "Tainted Eyes," to account for updates to writing style and character development
The gate swung open with its heavy, rusty whine, a sound that sent ice through her heart. She was curled up in the back of the cell, as if she could escape by pushing through the cracks between the stones, but to no avail. A hand roughly grabbed her arm, harsh enough to cause a cry of pain as much as terror as she was hauled up, her voice ignored even as it cracked.
“N-no, please… please don’t do this…!”
Once more dragged into the light, an open square where people gathered for the latest execution. Not that everyone there wanted to be witnesses… Lord Robert wanted to quell any thought of rebellion against his rule, and in spite of his warm, soft bed and powerful authority, his own eyes had dark circles beneath them as he watched the proceedings. Many sleepless nights since he first discovered the banshee, who had gifted him with the vision of how he was to die. A gift, because it meant he knew that someone would be coming for him. The latest voice against him was now bound in the middle of the space, waiting for the verdict… for justice, the lord would say. For being a threat to his life. Just as all the rest had been… the dozen men and women who all had been silenced.
Only a dirty shift covered her torso as she was pushed forward, milky skin littered in bruises from being forced to connect with the criminals she was made to “try,” as if her visions were both judge and jury. Wide, pale golden eyes were red from crying, the near white hair streaked with dirt in muddy tangles, looking more like a wild thing than the delicate, desperate figure she was. She was pushed until she was nearly embraced by the man, who winced as she touched him. Of course, he knew what was coming. Everyone there did. Even as her eyes flashed, the two connecting, all she could see was the flash of steel, glinting red as the axe came swinging down for the second blow… the favored method of execution, just as she had seen with the others. The feeling of their fear, their death, a ghostly imprint of their lives burning into her skin and into her memory…
---
“NOOOOO!”
She bolted upright, wide eyes already stinging from the tears that flowed even in sleep. Her sudden cry spooked the birds that were resting nearby, the air filled with the sound of their wings for several moments as she finally returned to the present. The forest… the outskirts of a bog… safe, with her friend coiled around her. Nilanth’s long form tucked in a little more firmly around her as she sank back into his leathery scales, hiding her face in his warmth even as his head swung around, gently nuzzling her side.
“Nadezhda?” he began with concern, his voice soft and gentle despite the deep guttural growl that reverberated through the air. With his tone, it was a gentle sound, and the woman finally turned to face him, still shaking and on the verge of sobbing. She quickly wiped at her eyes, offering a weak but brave smile. This grew genuine as he nuzzled her again, both of her hands coming up to hug the end of his snout, forcing herself to look into the moment and not into the painful past. Three years since she had been the prisoner of the horrible Lord Robert, three years since the man’s death in a carriage accident when the horses bolted at Nilanth’s approach. All the lives that had been broken in the man’s quest for avoiding his death, and all it had done was seal his own fate. It was three years since the old battle-scarred dragon had followed the scent of sidhe, and discovered a child of the marsh being abused by the fearful arrogance of men.
With a sigh that tried to release the tension from the vivid memories, Nadya settled into Nilanth’s side, affection lighting up her pale eyes as she gazed into the deep silver orbs. “I’m ok,” she answered his unspoken question, her voice thick but settled, reaching up to tuck some stray hairs behind her ear. She could feel it on her skin, that the bruises were long healed, her arms safely covered even as the dramatic cut of her dress let her legs remain more exposed and free. The dragon’s fire warmed his blood and in turn warmed her, making the simple cloak that acted as a blanket more than enough against the chill of the autumn night. Of course, he was massive, his jaw alone nearly large enough to swallow a man whole. His bulk, comprised of long muscles, heavy limbs and thick tail were wrapped about her with a wing creating a cocoon of warmth.
Nilanth’s rumble was reply enough to Nadya’s comforted response, nodding a little before tucking back into her, encouraging her to return to sleep. She smiled and rubbed right behind the dragon’s jaw, earning a growing noise that was not at all dissimilar to a cat’s purr. “Good night, my friend,” she said, the affection and gratitude in her voice for being able to say those words earning another slight nuzzle before settling in, pushing away lingering memories in favor of seeing the bright future that the dragon had restored to her.
---
“Oh, Joss… you idiot.”
The thickly accented voice was heavier with frustration, watching an irritated barman stalk away at the mere memory of the charismatic bard who had been unable to make the rendezvous with the sidhe. Why? Oh, simple… or not. Something about a barmaid that the barman had had his eye on, being swept off her feet by the romantic charmer, only to be proven a thief of other patrons in the bar and then sparking a bar fight over revealing someone cheating at cards…
Well, it might not be simple, but the chaos involved certainly sounded like Joss. What it meant was that he wasn’t at the tavern as promised to meet with his “darlingest, most beloved sister,” but had to run way from an irate barman, fuming father and a mob. Who knew where he would be by now.
Full lips pushed into a pout, Nadya’s fingers toyed with her choker as she considered the room. She hadn’t garnered that many looks, aside from some curious glances at yet another dark robed figure stepping into the bar. The hood was raised to hide her pale complexion, the cloak seeming to swamp her, but she was in no hurry to leave the town. Nilanth had left her to avoid being tracked by one of the dozens of hunter groups that had arrived to deal with the rumored monster living in the local marsh, but the plan had been to meet up the following day and the three travel to the coast for a festival that Joss insisted Nadya had to see. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of encountering such a large body of non-earthen water, but he was sure he could talk her into swimming lessons if he could just get her there. With no other goal, she had finally acquiesced to his pleading. But that plan seemed to be at least temporarily abandoned now, and she was left alone and uncertain what her next step should be.
In a normal situation, she’d have happily gone into the marshes and hidden there until Nilanth came looking for her. Then together they could have tracked the wayward bard down. Coming into the town had proven one thing for her, however, which immediately cancelled out that option. She knew her marshes and bogs, could feel their personality, connected to their will of the wisps and spirits through her fae blood. This one… this one was death. Had she said so aloud, she would have earned a laugh; it was as alive as ever, but rumors had spread of some beast lurking in its depths, where not even the insects wanted to stay. This creature was the reason for all the bands of hunters, even if some weren’t convinced there was something out in the misty bogs.
Without setting a foot in the space, Nadya knew in her heart that the stories were true. The wisps had grown sick, a malevolent force draining their endless energy. There was death clinging to the trees, the water stagnant and putrid. In a word, the bog was cursed, and there was little that would make her risk running into such a place.
But then, what were her options?
She couldn’t exactly hide on the outskirts of town… Joss hadn’t had to teach her the dangers in that sort of exposure around drunk, uncivilized men. She had money for a room, but it was money she was loathe to spend, as territorial of her small resources as a dragon. Or so Joss had said.
So for now, she pondered on her options as she sipped at her tea, situated at a table in the corner that contained the only open seats in the room. The rest of the area was boisterous and noisy, with barmaids sitting in laps, on tables and in one case on a large man’s shoulders in an effort to prove his strength and virility. Nadya watched the show idly, hardly shocked by the exposure of skin and more curious why the women were so eager to have someone’s hands all over them. Of course, her own experiences had pushed her away from wanting most forms of contact, but it seemed a silly waste of time. Perhaps, as her mother had said, if she met the right man? A memory danced before her eyes, of a man from her dreams where she had woken before receiving the warm touch… but just because some of her dreams were real didn’t mean that all of them were. Who knew. For now, she was content, warm, and well fed even with only a few coins, growing a little sleepy as she grew accustomed to the noise and life around her, so very different from her travels with her dragon companion.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 5, 2020 22:24:44 GMT
Though the memory is faded by time, there are aspects that remain vivid, etched into his mind as if with the help of a sharp blade. He can still recall the musky smell of aged, wooden floorboards, and if he listened carefully he would swear he could even hear the crackling of the fire, it’s blackened branches snapping like brittle bones. With the soothing orange glow of the flames painting the stone-brick walls, it was a scene that might have been considered comforting and homely. But then would come the wailing, piercing through the peace like a blade through butter. Over time it has grown into a monstrous sound, even more mournful and harrowing in retrospect. In his mind, it is a deep-throated cry, guttural and alien, wrenched from the lips with such a force that it seemed as if it must have built up in the infant’s toes before hitting the lungs, only gaining momentum as it travelled upwards to tease at the babe’s vocal cords. In the throes of this memory there was also always that lingering stench that overpowered all else, even the incessant howling. It was the bitter, antiseptic smell of strong spirits. The memory was so strong he could almost feel the scent burn his nostrils like it used to, when merely a whiff would send him sick and dumbstruck. It was an unmistakeable smell, one that haunted him like an unwelcome but familiar visitor, but not familiar in the way that some favoured childhood memory could be. Its presence evoked, instead, the cold anticipation of the sudden pain of a broken limb.
“Please don’t hurt him.”
This voice was small, pleading, merely a whisper in the presence of all the others that overtook and overwhelmed the senses. It always took him a moment to recognise this as his own, no matter how many times this reel played through his mind. It was a voice not yet marred by age or nihilism, still soft with youth and yet to be hardened by experience. Young, weak and pleading. There had been a lot of pleading in those days, he recalled, not that it ever did any good. The same words repeated over and over as if repetition might better help them stick, as if it might allow them at last to be heard and heeded, if only once.
The memory always ends the same. With pain, white hot and blinding.
*
It was getting worse. He had known that it would, but knowledge of the fact did not make it any easier to bear. After six hours he had developed a headache that felt as if his head were being steadily being squeezed in a vice. Now was the nausea, coming in steady waves, a sea of sickness lapping at his resistance, gradually sapping his will to push it away. But the worst part had been the memories. After years of careful repression, now they arose unbidden like oil on water, no longer so easily ignored and leaving him disorientated and light-headed after each flashback. He had managed to hide most of it from his brother so far, more-so because the boy was not yet acclimatised to his company, and so did not pick up on the nuances that showed that his older brother was suffering. To the boy, it just seemed that his companion was in a constant foul mood, which, although accurate, was not entirely down to the reasoning that he had decided upon.
Looking up at the leaden sky, Jasper’s mouth drew into a thin line as he let his thoughts wander back to the reunion the day before. His brother hadn’t exactly received a happy welcome...
“Go back, boy.” The tone had been heavy with warning, Jasper’s voice a steady rumble, the vowels grating like rubble. Even so, it had not phased the twenty-two year old, even if he had bristled a little in indignation at having been called ‘boy’. “You’re kidding, right? Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you? It was like looking for a bloody needle in a haystack!” Jasper had rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm then, frustrated at the young man’s defiance, and feeling the pain of a stress-induced migraine lacing it’s way across his head like a tightened band. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This just wasn’t the way things were done. Jasper had always been alone, and for good reason. He didn’t want, or need, his little brother trailing after him in this line of work. In true Jasper fashion though, instead of explaining this to Sam (whom wouldn’t have listened, anyway) he had instead tried to drive the other away, to make him feel unwanted.
When Jasper removed his hand from his face he had regarded his brother through only one eye, for the other was obscured by a leather eyepatch. He looked incredibly weary, and then, suddenly, he had stepped forwards and squared up to the younger figure. Grasping Sam harshly by the scruff of his tunic, Jasper had yanked him towards himself, forcing the boy to the tips of his toes. Sam’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise, but infuriatingly, there was no fear in his eyes. It was all for show, and somehow, even after all these years apart, Sam had known that. In his eyes, Jasper had always been the protector, not the aggressor. “Go. Home.” Jasper had growled even so, allowing each word deliberate emphasis in a last-ditch attempt at striking a chord with the troublesome youth. Sam, of all responses he could have chosen, had actually grinned. A sunny, charming smile that was impossibly infectious, and had gotten him out of many a sticky situation in the past. “Not a chance, brother! I’m afraid i’m here to stay.”
There was a light shower of rain now, so fine that it seemed to sit as if suspended in the air rather than fall. The ashen sky promised more yet to come, bloated clouds moving sluggishly across the stratosphere, ambling along like weary old men. The town on the horizon had been a welcome sight for the brothers, for it offered not only the promise of shelter, but for Jasper, the prospect of a chance to get some time away from his unwanted companion. Irritatingly, Sam seemed to have inherited some of his tracking skills, or else he was blessed with good fortune, for Jasper had covered his tracks well, often resorting to paying the right people for their silence as he hunted after his bounty. He was, after all, quite a recognisable figure with his eyepatch, so normally it was a few well-placed coins that bought the silence of those that were otherwise inclined to gossip. Even so, Sam had managed to find him, and his older brother would have been impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed.
As they had checked into one of the town’s few inns, Jasper had had the tantalising, albeit fleeting thought of slipping away, but had dismissed it almost immediately. Sam would be sure to find him again, he could see it in the determination in his brother’s eyes, which were so like his own. He refused, however, to acknowledge the fact that a tiny part of him had warmed to the idea of not being alone for once, which was such an alien concept after all these years that it took him aback. A desire to keep his brother around was not one he could afford to indulge in- every minute spent with him placed Sam in danger, and for that reason Jasper would try all he could to dissuade his brother from sticking around. He’d already alienated him with some less-than-agreeable rules, which Sam had openly and animatedly shown his displeasure of. Jasper had said that his brother could tag along on the condition that: 1. He did not question him, always did as he was told, and kept his mouth shut most of the time. The young man had agreed, begrudgingly... but his brother knew better than to be too optimistic about the boy following the rules.
“Stay here.” Sam had looked up at his brother quizzically, immediately suspicious, before rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner, causing Jasper’s jaw to clench in annoyance. “Ah, so that you can run away again? I don’t think so!” He had announced, sounding bored. Jasper had merely sighed, having expected such a retort, shrugging off his satchel and throwing it onto the bed. “Listen, I’m going out, but I will be back. In the meantime I’m entrusting this to you.” The action had had the intended affect, as Sam had paused then, surprise lighting in his eyes. All day, his brother had been trying to get rid of him, and now he was trusting him with his things? He glanced from the satchel to his brother, before finally sighing, raising a shoulder and dropping it in half-hearted agreement. “Okay... fine. I don’t suppose you’d leave without it. But! Just know that if you do, and this is just some ploy so you can slip away, I will find you again, and when I do, you’ll never hear the end of it.” This was punctuated with another sunny, lopsided grin, especially charming when aimed at women as it was sculpted on such very fine features. Needless to say, Jasper was unmoved.
***
Merely eight hours had gone by now, and yet, there was a definite tremor to his hands as he passed over the coins. Jasper ignored the curious, if suspicious look of the barman, grabbing the drink and immediately necking it. The barman himself soon forgot his misgivings as the stranger ordered another drink, then another, and another still, more than happy to look past the looks of any individual that was so eagerly lining his pockets with coin. Slowly, but surely... Jasper felt the pain behind his eyes begin to ebb, the tightening of his chest starting to loosen. His vision, so often becoming cloudy these last few hours and steadily getting worse, had now focussed, and things were clear and sharp again. Best of all, he was able to push away the memories that had been haunted him, locking them away at the back of his mind where he intended to keep them for the foreseeable future. Relief flooded through him like a douse of fresh water, and without the distraction of the pain and the cravings that he’d been a slave to for the past eight hours, he was able to more clearly concentrate on the task at hand.
Pulling the crumpled, well-thumbed parchment from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, he unrolled it and spread it open before him. The barman paid it no more than a passing glance, as with most around these parts, he could not read further than a few simple symbols. Once more, Jasper scanned the page, its words by now having been engraved into his mind. Creature of the swamp. Great beauty. Powerful. After a short pause, he rolled it back up, emitting a distracted, frustrated sigh. He’d also heard that the creature had skin the colour of moss, with lichen growing from it’s face and mangrove roots for hair. It wasn’t simple unravelling fact from fiction, and the creature they were searching for was heavily shrouded in myth and legend. Jasper had been following a promising source, he’d heard a well-uttered rumour about a noble using a creature for it’s mystical powers, but then the trail had gone cold not long before Sam had caught up with him. Jasper wasn’t even sure if there had been any credence to the claim, he’d been following his instincts, which had always served him well in the past. This time… he wasn’t so sure. It was frustrating, and his task was probably even impossible… but it was not a job he could just back away from. He needed this bounty, more than he had ever needed the others.
But for now, he sat back and let the drink steadily restore his senses. As it did so, he let his idle mind wander, listening to the chatter about him, surrounded by it but not a part of it. In fact, it was as if an invisible barrier were about him, for despite the bar steadily becoming more packed, the air of stand-offishness about him was enough to ensure that no-one approached. Although he shared his younger brother’s good-looks, his appearance was much more rugged and didn’t exactly invite company.
He drank until the tremors of his hands ceased, the tension in his shoulders unwound, and the stresses of the day disappeared from his mind. And then he kept drinking.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 6, 2020 3:28:23 GMT
Nadya was tempted to go pay for a room by this point, as everyone crowding the tavern were more focused on drinking and celebrating future victories than they were on where to stay the night. The boisterous crowd kept her awake and alert enough to counter the calming effects of her tea, something she guarded carefully and took her time with. But in the end, she couldn’t nurse it forever, and she swallowed the last few drops with a sigh. She sat there for a few moments, staring at her empty cup, as if contemplating the mysteries of the tea leaves left inside.
Nope. She wasn’t done with drinking tea.
She stood up and quickly darted around the patrons with her cup in hand, her nimble step light, as if it was all a choreographed dance. By the time she had made it back up to the bar, her hood had fallen, revealing the pale hair and features. For a moment, she glanced about, hesitating. But nothing happened. Not even a catcall. Everyone either had their hands full, or were focused on getting their hands on what they could see. Nadya smiled a little at the realization that she was nearly invisible in such a space, her confidence clearly building as she made her way to the one open space near the counter. There was a tall man there, with a dark air of lightly contained aggression that managed to keep some space to himself. It was plenty of room for her to slip into, knowing better than to look at him as she invaded his space. But in a perverted sort of way, she found herself drawn to his side.
If he was so good at putting others off, then being near him gave her much desired breathing room. And there was less chance of being bumped into and activating… well, best not to dwell on that.
The barkeep paused at seeing her back, making a face before reaching for her cup. Nadya didn’t have to raise her voice to order, or indeed speak, but it was clear that she was not one of his best sources of money that night. Not when he turned back with a steaming cup of hot water and leaves, traded over with another single coin. In spite of the barman’s annoyance at her continued presence, taking up valuable space for other higher-paying customers, she smiled at him, if coyly. Spinning on her heel, she began to walk back to her table, but stopped before she finished that first step.
Her expression went blank as she realized that she had abandoned her little corner table just long enough for it to be overrun by a patron and barmaid, drunk and slobbering when the kisses missed. The wide-eyed look was comical, particularly given the smug look Nadya had just presented to the barman. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might lose her seat, assuming that she would simply have to order at the bar rather than wait to catch a barmaid’s eye. Finally, the look of shock left as her brow furrowed, lips pursing into a tight pout with a curt huff.
Once more she spun, hoping up onto a seat by the hostile aura, invading his space in a more permanent way. Finally she looked over at the man, noticing at last the eyepatch that made it impossible to see if he even noticed her sitting by that side. Nadya considered her drink again, lost in actual contemplative thought. But Joss had been rubbing off on her of late, so in spite of her petite, short frame, she found her courage plucked up again, squaring her shoulders before speaking to the man.
“Thank you for the space,” she noted, once more with a coy little smile that Joss had yet to master. Of course, when he tried it, it always ended up looking like trouble. On her lips, it was mischievous, but innocent enough. And with that little smile, she picked up her tea with both hands, blowing gently and dispelling the steam for a few moments before sipping delicately, relishing the warmth down her throat and slowly soaking into her hands.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 6, 2020 10:58:11 GMT
A sweet scent wafted by, earthen, reminiscent of meadows in the summer. That was Jasper’s first telling of the arrival of the woman at his side. Although curious, he didn’t turn to see whom was emitting such a welcoming aura, but neither did he make any effort to dispel her from his space. She was in his blind spot, but the barman passed by, and another sweet aroma graced the air, this time the unmistakeable scent of tea. It was not something he drank himself, not for many years, but it reminded him of better times- lazy evenings when the cattle had been brought in, and all the animals had been fed, where there was nothing left to do but to sit by the fire and listen to his mother recount often humorous stories of her life. A memory of better times, and not one he often found himself revisiting. Normally, memories of his past were buried for fear of their bitterness, rarely were they so fond. In the brief presence of this other, Jasper was already feeling strangely warm- and this time it was not just down to the alcohol.
He had expected her to move away, as everyone else had up to this point, but instead she lingered, and even decided to pipe up and speak to him. This, surprised him more than anything, and as he finally turned to regard the other, his response was perhaps also surprising considering the carefully-crafted air of hostility about him. For, instead of what might be expected, a gruff reply or no response at all, his response was gentle. Smiling in return, he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, and there was a playful twinkle in his eye that matched her own. “You’re welcome.” before turning away again to take another swig of his beer. Clearly, he was not oblivious to the space he had been able to maintain. There was no doubt that the alcohol had helped to soften his edges, ironic considering it usually did the exact opposite with others, but he was now at the friendly stage where worries were temporarily forgotten, and inhibitions lowered, making him much more agreeable, despite the aura about him.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 6, 2020 20:42:22 GMT
Nadya would have been surprised to learn of the stranger’s reaction to her, particularly at the idea of having a welcoming aura. Indeed, his own response with a friendly, playful tone put her on edge. Ironic, given it was his hostility that drew her to him.
Friendly meant open. Open meant contact. Contact meant risk.
As the man turned towards her, her gaze immediately jumped to him, thinly veiled suspicion in her eyes as she considered him, the soft smile on her lips hovering, hesitant. As his one eye watched her, she stilled, taking in every movement, every tone and interpretation of his soft, rumbling voice. She didn’t trust the playful look to his gaze, but this wasn’t evidenced until he looked away again. Nadya let out the soft breath she had been holding, and suddenly there was a sense of relief. She’d been on the verge of running, something she had managed to hide until she could let go of the panicked instinct to run. Run before he tried to touch her.
But he was returning to his drink, keeping his body angled towards the bar rather than shifting towards her. So, she sipped at her tea again, mentally kicking herself for the decision to abandon her table. She knew from watching the crowds; there was no place to sit other than by this man. The worst she had assumed was that someone else would be desperate enough for a seat to invade their space. The fact that his hostile aura had dropped when regarding her, even if only for a moment, had scared her. But she stood her ground, so to speak, still casting furtive glances at the man, in spite of the fact that it had been she who approached him, and he had been pleasant in responding to her.
Joss was going to get an earful the next time she saw him, that was certain. He’d taught her how to display herself as strong, to get the space she wanted. Instead, it had opened up a dialogue with a stranger. A much larger man to boot. Nadya found herself hopeful that the man would simply drink himself into a stupor, able to smell the alcohol on his breath. To be fair, the room’s air was permeated with the vapors, which was enough to make her feel as if she was getting tipsy for free. At least she had been drinking enough tea to help keep her vision level, but the adrenaline that pricked her skin had solved her issue of growing sleepy.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 6, 2020 21:21:32 GMT
Nadya really needn’t have worried, for just like she, he was only looking for somewhere for a quiet drink. ‘Quiet’, of course, referring more to a lack of company or conversation, as the rowdy bar itself was anything but. Perhaps much to the woman's relief, the man didn’t open up for conversation, in fact no sooner had he finished his drink was he starting on another. It seemed likely that she would in fact be present to see the man drink himself into oblivion.
Despite the heady amount of alcohol consumed in such a small amount of time, Jasper was in fact, not yet drunk. Rather, he finally felt as if he had hit his baseline, and he pondered bitterly on just how reliant on the stuff he had become. He hadn’t exactly tried to quit, in truth, going so long without a drink had been purely by accident. Sam had appeared, and Jasper had hoped to shake him off before pursuing a bar. He wasn’t sure just how much his little brother remembered, he had only been about a year old when their father had left, but even so, Jasper found himself ashamed. He didn’t want Sam to see his reliance on the very thing that had destroyed their father, and almost their family along with it. In truth, until Sam had turned up, Jasper had been willingly ignorant to his reliance on the stuff. It wasn’t until he had experienced the actual physical withdrawal symptoms that he realised just how deep in this he was.
But what could he do?
He mused on these thoughts awhile before doing what he did with every other uncomfortable feeling- pushed it away to the back of his mind, and focussed instead on the present. That, was much easier to do now with the alcohol singing in his veins, and he welcomed the slight shimmer to the edge of his vision like an old friend. Something brushed his shoulder then, and above the smell of alcohol and the pleasant scent of meadows, the foul smell of sweat surfaced, dampening all others. A man had pushed himself in between the two, so drunk that he was impervious to the hostile aura, invading their space with all the grace of a battering ram. His back was to Jasper as he leant towards Nadya, mumbling something incoherent with a toothy, suggestive grin, but had then found himself spinning abruptly round on his heel. In one smooth movement Jasper had grabbed the man by his shoulder, turned him and firmly shoved him back into the crowd, all without leaving his seat. The whole event was quick and without further incident, the man, at the happy and giddy stage of drunkenness, had simply let himself be manhandled, and was soon stinking up some other part of the establishment. Meanwhile, Jasper merely turned his attention back to his drink, as if there had been no interruption.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 7, 2020 2:32:45 GMT
Nadya’s discomfort softened as the man kept to himself, finally focusing her attention on her drink rather than the stranger. She did watch the way he would simply grab another bottle with a look of mild astonishment, not invested enough to be concerned but uncertain about the amount. He seemed lost in thought, or at least his lips did; with the eyepatch, it was hard to tell what he might have been doing with his expression. Her gaze did finally drift up to the leather covering, curiosity lighting her eyes as she studied it, clearly mulling over what might be behind it.
A bad choice, as her focus on the stranger had blinded her to the room.
Without warning, another stranger had pushed his way into their little bubble of space. This time, however, there was obvious intent to physically connect. Drawling something along the lines of ‘hey there, doll,’ the man was grinning widely, the alcohol heavy on his breath. But his sudden proximity earned a sharp gasp, ignored as he began reaching out to brush her hair away from her face. Nadya recoiled from his touch, not out of disgust but sheer terror, spilling tea across the counter as the cup flew out of her hands. She had half slipped off the stool in her attempt to get away before the man was abruptly stopped, spun around and pushed away.
It took her a minute to understand what had happened, to understand where the man had gone, what the stranger had done. Her balance was precarious with one foot on the floor, the other still hooked on the stool. By the time she was able to understand what happened, the shake was quite obvious even from a distance, should any care to notice, eyes wide and stinging, on the verge of tears. As still as a statue save for the shake, she finally looked around, seeing that no one was attacking her. No one was reaching for her, no one seemed to even notice her or her panicked response. Instead, attention was drawn to the drunken man as he moved on to a new victim, earning laughter from the crowd.
Swallowing a whimper, she slowly and quite unsteadily moved off her stool, straightening out her cloak a little before moving it, the wooden legs scraping against the floor as she pushed. What was shocking about her movement was that, rather than pulling away from everyone there, or indeed leaving, she resumed her seat mere inches from the dark stranger, just shy of touching him. The barman came over only to clean up the spilled tea, raising an eyebrow at the slim woman as she offered another coin for a new cup. He clearly noticed the sudden shift in her position, but said nothing about it, nor how her hand still shook as she pushed the coin towards him. Instead he seemed to inwardly shrug and went to pour her another cup.
Whatever aura he was putting off, whatever or however much he was drinking, the man had saved her. Unintentionally perhaps, but he had protected her, protected her secret. At that moment, close to him was the only place that felt safe in this crazed environment. Joss was good at protecting her when in such establishments, able to tell when someone would try to get too close or aggressive. It had been foolish to stay on her own. But as she sat by the stranger, her shake lessened at least, finally daring another glance up at him. “Th… thank you,” she finally managed, her voice soft and weak, so unlike her words before. It was thanks for the help against the drunkard, thanks for not having turned on her in a similar fashion, for letting her stay close.
Once more it didn’t take long for her order to arrive. Nadya reached for it gingerly, half cradling it in her hands. The warmth of the cup made her aware of how cold her body had become, a momentary shiver running down her spine at the thought. She’s almost been touched… almost been forced to use her power. No… she couldn’t… she tried so hard to avoid visions after the noble that had captured her, still so deeply scarred by the shared sensation of so many deaths. She couldn’t use her power again… she couldn't be captured again. That was almost as bad as sharing another's horror.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 7, 2020 16:44:11 GMT
Hearing the sound of the wooden legs of her chair scrape back against the flagstones, Jasper had assumed the woman would leave. Instead, the pleasant earthen scent remained, in fact it even seemed to get closer. A glance to his left, and the surprise was not masked in time as he realised that she had actually moved closer. Yes, he had protected her, but the action could have been regarded as merely one of self-preservation- after all, the man’s presence had bothered him, too. Besides that, he might have expected for her to want to move away after such an aggressive response, even if it hadn’t been directed at her.
Jasper turned back to his drink, but not before noticing the tremor in her hands. So, she had been shaken by the incident, then perhaps she had moved closer because she was considering him the lesser of two evils. Her thanks seemed to confirm this, that she was looking for some protection. Well, Jasper was happy for her to share his space if that’s what she wished, especially as most of the protection he provided in a passive way, which meant it required him to do very little. This time he just tipped his head in reply, no words were needed.
Jasper wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but eventually he found himself growing drowsy. The rest of the evening had been relatively uneventful, after the drunken man incident they had been pretty much left alone. Deciding that the bottle in his hands would be the last one before he retired, he found himself glancing at the woman again. She seemed much more relaxed now, but… what was she still doing here? He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone to the mercy of the unpredictable patrons of the bar, and although he didn’t know her, he felt a sense of responsibility anyhow. So he decided to speak to her, fixing her with a calm gaze that was void of a suggestive undertone. “Are you waiting for someone?” In his words were the underlying question, would her friend be there soon? It didn’t take much brain power to figure out that the woman clearly did not belong here, so it seemed a pretty reasonable assumption that she must be waiting for someone. And besides that, her taste for tea thus far showed that she clearly wasn’t here to drink.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 7, 2020 21:02:34 GMT
His quiet acceptance was comfort enough, even if he did seem surprised by her actions. Truthfully, so was she. Nadya would have expected to run, to immediately ask for a room and hide. Yet she stayed, slowly but steadily unwinding, the shaking ebbing away.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized what she was doing. When she had last been so alone, she was a prisoner. Abused, terrified, and feared. Once Nilanth had saved her, she had spent very little time alone. And more often than not, Joss would be there in the dragon’s stead. It wasn’t entirely his fault that he wasn’t there now… but it did leave her alone. And sitting with a stranger who had helped her, unintentional as he might have been, was better than sitting alone and afraid.
As they sat, Nadya finally finished with her tea, still somewhat marveling at how much the man beside her was consuming. The now empty cup sat in one hand as she idly watched her exposed side, eyes beginning to grow lidded even as she listened to the conversations near her. There was plenty of open, drunk boasting and puffing of chests, but there were also more sober discussions and plans for heading into the marshes. The would-be monster slayers all had differing ideas as to how to go about it, exploring the rumors of those who had seen glimpses of the beast. Some said it was a tree, others a necromancer, or a troll. There was never any real detail to the description, only snippets from great distances seeing movement. It seemed that to be close enough to see it was deadly. This, one thought, meant it must be like a basilisk.
It took her a few moments to realize that the man was speaking to her, eyes widening as she quickly turned to face him. They had sat so long in silence, why was he breaking it now? The calm look to his gaze kept her from growing afraid again, which was evident in how she responded, tense shoulders once more relaxing slowly. “Oh… um, he… got kicked out, apparently, before I even arrived,” she began, her thick accent betraying a slight but lingering annoyance as she tucked some hair behind one ear. She glanced at the patrons behind them before returning the stranger’s gaze, as if worried their discussion would invite another to join them. “I just… didn’t have anywhere else to go instead,” she admitted, then paused, again growing tense. Her eyes darted to his hands, of all things, fearing he would try to reach out for her now. But they stayed in place, so she forced herself to relax a little again. He hadn’t reached out for her yet, there was little chance he would try now.
She shifted a little, uncertain of her comfort with him actively looking at her, but winced. With a look of some annoyance, she pulled the cloak aside to look at her legs, sticking one foot out to see the damage. It was easy to see her skin with the short hem of her dress, not quite knee length. The worn leather boots only came up to her calves, which exposed the growing bruises against her pale skin, denying the fact that they were self inflicted. Or rather, a result of half crashing off of her stool earlier when the drunkard had pushed in. “Carallo,” she softly cursed under her breath, covering the evidence of her delicate body with a sense of annoyed embarrassment.
In spite of the fact that she was seated beside a stranger, a man at that, there had been no shame in looking at herself, nor any wary glances of what he might have made of such a view. His hands still warranted more of her concern than merely viewing her. To her, that was the real threat.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 7, 2020 22:45:05 GMT
Jasper misread the situation, but it turned out to be to the woman’s benefit. Her cagey response, the way her fearful gaze seemed to linger on his hands, and then lastly, the brief view of bruises on her legs… he had seen these signs before, and they left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, as well as evoking a surge of emotion, an instinctual desire to protect. He suddenly became very aware of their surroundings, and he realised it was because he was now seeing everything as a potential threat to the woman. “Well,” he began, downing his last drink before continuing. “I’m leaving now, but let me get you a room for yourself. It will be safer than waiting here. You can leave a message with the barman, then if your friend returns he will know where you went.” It seemed a reasonable enough offer, although she would probably question why he had deigned to help her in such a way. If she asked he’d merely reply something on the lines of it being the decent thing to do, which of course it was, although why he suddenly cared so much about a stranger’s plight was not so easily explained. He didn’t move to go, however, waiting patiently to see what her response would be.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 7, 2020 23:19:11 GMT
Still sulking about her delicate skin, Nadya was taken completely off guard by the man’s offer. Her gaze jumped to his, eyes wide for a few moments before narrowing, studying him suspiciously. The confusion grew when it became clear to her that he wasn’t being lecherous, that the offer was genuine. It was clear she wanted to ask why he would offer to help her, but that wasn’t what she said.
“That isn’t necessary,” she began, her voice more confident. “I have my own money.”
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 7, 2020 23:31:15 GMT
”That’s good.” Jasper answered approvingly, at least she was a little prepared, even if she were alone. He stood up then, his full height finally becoming evident, which would be enough on it’s own to dissuade all except the bravest, or least-intelligent of those seeking to cause trouble. “Would you at least let me walk you to a tavern? Unless you intend on staying here, and waiting it out for your friend.” If she refused, which he pretty much expected her to, he would not push her to accept. He knew he was an intimidating figure, and he supposed that from her perspective, his motives were unclear. Even so, he would feel better having offered, and he could then relinquish this sudden feeling of responsibility for her.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 7, 2020 23:51:03 GMT
One eyebrow arched at the man’s unexpected approval, but that was quickly replaced as she watched him stand. She’d be staring right in the middle of his chest…! As it was, she was barely taller than that even on the stool, so she gained that tiny bit more by straightening and lengthening her torso, as if that would make her seem less… well, short.
“Ah, I think I’ll-“ she began to turn him down, finally offering a smile to do so gently. But there was a crash just a few seats behind her, another drunkard who was too far gone to avoid falling into the other patrons at the bar. Nadya bolted off the stool like a spooked animal, half running into the man as she spun around, watching the scene with a fear not too far from her reaction to the drunk earlier. Feeling her cloaked back pressed against the man, she straightened up a little, settled her expression as she sorted out her cloak, and looked straight up and back with a somehow sheepish, innocent little smile.
“Yes, if you could walk me to a tavern, that would be most appreciated.”
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 8, 2020 0:19:47 GMT
If he’d thought her a fragile thing that needed protecting before, her frightened actions only confirmed this. The fact that she had rushed to him despite them being strangers spoke volumes as to her desperation, and only enforced his already pretty solid intention to help her, if only in this small way. He strategically stepped so that his body blocked the drunkard’s way, should they choose to veer towards them, and motioned for her to lead the way. “Of course.” He rumbled in response, and it was strange how such a rugged individual could sound so soothing, as if there was an underlying gentleness. It was also probably pretty surprising how there was no hesitance in his step, despite the alcohol he had been relentless in consuming all evening.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 8, 2020 1:48:25 GMT
Nadya watched with slight uncertainty as he stepped around her, her fears again proved wrong as he placed himself between her and the drunkard. The thought of how much she’d seen him consume resurfaced, curious how his step seemed so even, but instead she took the offered gesture and began to move out of the noisy space. Walk would be an inappropriate word for her, but the attempts to dart out of the way were far fewer with the man following her.
As they made it to the street, she was silently asking why on earth she had decided to accept his offer of help. In spite of his soothing, gentle behavior towards her, she had no idea who he was. What he was capable of. All she had seen was a drunk man quickly removed from their space. Who knew what sort of a threat he could be. And that man was now behind her, following close enough to keep other strangers from getting too close. Nadya found her step slowing enough to finally be alongside rather than in front, too nervous to speak but wishing the silence wasn’t stretching on between them.
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“But that’s ridiculous! You can’t be!”
The innkeeper sighed, shaking his head at the indignant little lady on the other side of his counter. “I dunno how else to tell ya, but we’re booked out. All the inns are… I dunno if you’ve noticed, but we’ve got a MONSTER in the marshes! We’ve got hunters swarming this town! I heard the last of the available rooms was rented out, oh… two, three hours ago. We’ve got teams sleepin’ in the stables, fer crying out loud…”
Nadya stared incredulously at the innkeeper as he mused over the rumors he’d heard, the disgust clear. The fifth tavern they had tried, and the news was the same. No room. Full of hunters. All after the monster.
Hah. Monster… Nadya knew it was no mere creature in the swamp, the last innkeeper rude enough to earn her correction. He had looked thoroughly confused as she marched out, considering how confidently she had dismissed everyone else’s theories.
With a sigh at getting nowhere with her, the innkeeper went back to answer one of his tenets’ questions, Nadya rubbing at her temples with a face. “Ugh… estúpido vello,” she growled, shooting the ‘stupid old man’ a dirty look before turning to the stranger. After the second inn proved a failure, her fearful edge with the man had quickly worn down as he faithfully walked with her, keeping figures in the shadows a comfortable distance from her. Now she looked up at him with a mix of apology for the useless venture, and gratitude for the attempt. “This is… ugh,” she half growled, shaking her head. “Thank you, anyway,” she half mumbled, folding her arms across her chest in a near defensive posture. He’d done as promised, not his fault there was no room to take.
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