the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Live (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=17) +--- Forum: The Chamber (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=22) +--- Thread: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. (/showthread.php?tid=2975) Pages:
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the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - stricken - 08-17-2015
Her home had long been in the Meadow, and she felt herself safe there. Her dappled gray coat could often be found in the shadows of the trees watching the lives of others around her. Occasionally she would seek out a partner for conversation but for the most part, Stricken was alone. She preferred it that way. And then she met him. He was exceptional because his charm confused her. He was unusual because red eyes peered out from his pale white form like a ghost. He drew her in like a spider sets a trap for the unwitting fly. Perhaps she wanted to believe that someone found her lovely, and interesting. It took only a few steps from the Meadow for him to change from the charmer to the predator. His muscular form took on a sinewy, wolf-like grace, and he began to relentlessly drive her towards unfamiliar lands. Her indignant protests and anger were met with the quick response of his teeth. By the time the unlikely pair reach the pine trees and the beating heart of the Chamber, Stricken has nearly given up. Her coat is peppered with streaks of blood and she walks with a limp from a well placed kick. The white stallion is on her heels. When he orders her to halt she snorts disdainfully, but does so. A flutter of relief fills her heart as she recognizes the place. She will be a captive, she believes, but perhaps someday she will escape. She does not know. "Now what?" her voice is flat, irritated, and with a tendril of fear. "Clearly you brought me here for something. Perhaps I'll have the pleasure of knowing?" Her flanks shudder with exhaustion, and emotion. Stricken chosen to die RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - Gryffen - 08-17-2015
RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - cellar - 08-18-2015 I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail, Cbesides prayers growing stale on my tongue. She stands quietly along the outskirts of the Chamber as she observes the other members going about their day. This has always been one of her favorite past times, to live vicariously through others as they experience their own joys and sorrows simultaneously. Cellar secretly takes great interest in their experiences, shares in their emotions as they are expressed or hidden away beneath a false smile. There is a faint smirk along her own lips until she hears the demanding voice of Gyffen as he calls her name. His voice is delighted and it makes her stomach turn. Death is not a thing she finds much happiness in. Still, the serpent girl begins to move toward his call until she spies them standing near one another. There is a familiar shade of red splattered and trickling along the stranger's body. Her head hangs a little lower as she closes the last bit of distance between them, though her eyes do not leave the nameless one. Time to show me what you got. Cellar's ears turn toward him but her face remains stoic as she swallows hard. Killing never got easier, not for her at least. She set fire to a little piece of herself each time she watched her venom take hold of someone. "I am Cellar, and I am sorry," she mumbles as she moves closer to the girl. Their sides touch, gentle and barely there as the barbs stand at attention all across her skin. The serpent leans only a fraction of her weight against the stranger to send them pricking across the other's side, releasing countless drops of the toxin into Stricken's bloodstream. It never takes long for it to go to work, ripping the blood cells apart and ensuring they cannot clot. The feeling isn't noticeable at first, but within minutes the blood will find its way from her eyes and gums. The wounds Gryffen delivered will soon drain her, leaving her to suffer a slow death. Cellar thinks it must feel like a new level of agony, judging by the faces she's watched in the past. She steps back far enough to leave the other's reach and waits with unblinking eyes. Tyrael had always commanded her to watch, to fully appreciate her own work and carry the burden of what she had done. "You probably expedited this process, beating her like that," she says without looking at him. I could give you my body, my flesh, offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet. E L L A R RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - Straia - 08-23-2015 straia the raven queen of the chamber the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - stricken - 08-24-2015 The arrival of the two Chamber mares made Stricken uneasy. Their meeting seemed coordinated, planned well before her capture, and this observation filled the mare with dread. She did not recognize the Queen of the Chamber, having been out of touch with the ruling monarchs during her time in the Meadow. Stricken backs up slightly, just as Gryffen shoves her forward into the embrace of the scaled mare. Cellar mumbles her apologies, and Stricken utters only one word. "Please…" She had always thought death would come with a violent hand, but the caress of the serpent mare against her side was as gentle as a mother to a child. Stricken barely felt the barbs penetrate her skin and so at first she didn't even know she was dying. She was indignant and frightened, thinking that torture was her lot. It took only a few moments for the poison to take effect. A horrible ache turned into agony as her body stiffened and throbbed. Her veins felt like fire had taken hold. The poison destroyed her healthy cells, causing Stricken to let out a startled, terrified whinny. Her vision began to grow hazy. the figures in front of her wavering and losing shape as loss of blood left her lightheaded. She felt blood leak from her eyes, and mistakenly thought they were tears. The gray mare's face was contorted with agony. "I don't…" her voice trailed off as she fell to her knees. She could not see it but her coat was streaming red. Without the clotting factor, she was steadily being drained to death. Her head ached desperately. Nausea rolled in her stomach. She was tired, so tired, and that feeling finally overtook her, overriding even the agony as her organs began to shut down from lack of fluids. Stricken collapsed fully onto the ground, lying on her side, the blood that had been steadily flowing now slowing to a dribble. She opened her eyes one last time, confusion and exhaustion lining her face. And then she was gone. From one breath in the Chamber to the next in the After. Stricken chosen to die RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - Gryffen - 08-24-2015
RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - cellar - 08-27-2015 I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail, Cbesides prayers growing stale on my tongue. Cellar does not greet the queen as she arrives, but rather avoids her eyes as she sets about her work. It is not disrespect that drives her inaction but rather the opposite. When she kills, she is a monster and unworthy of even the most minute kindness. But it is Gryffen's wish to see her bring about harm and she has chained herself to their commands, so she watches as Stricken crumbles to her knees as she whispers her quiet request. The sentence hangs in the air unfinished and mostly unheard by the others. A frown begs to form across her lips but she steels herself against such emotions or thoughts as another half sentence leaves the dying girl's lips. She assumes the girl wanted to say she didn't want to die. They are familiar words and it makes her sigh slowly before turning back to the wraith as his eyes dance with delight. "Could I have been born anyone other than me?" she asks with a faint tilt of her pale head as she watches him. "Could I have been her, in some life? Could she have been me?" Her questions hang heavy as she continues to stare into his eyes while her face betrays no emotion. Cellar is aware that she could have just as easily been a victim to some sick ritual or test but the stars or whatever higher power chose her to be the hunter on this particular day. She always felt it necessary to apologize for being the survivor in her encounters. But then he's asking another question and she lowers her head to look down at Stricken's blood soaked body. For this question, she has no response. Any sort of death shook her to her core and left her a little more tired. "I have been blessed with nothing. Anyone given any sort of strength must also shoulder the weight of what that strength does," she says before looking up at him once more. Eventually her eyes shift to the queen as she observes them from afar. "I am no messenger, Gryffen. I am merely my father's child." She falls silent then. All that is left is to await further orders or to resume observing those around her. This night will not bring sleep and she has no intention to seek it. I could give you my body, my flesh, offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet. E L L A R RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - Straia - 09-01-2015 straia the raven queen of the chamber RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - Gryffen - 09-01-2015
(This was kinda garbage sorry ) RE: the unwilling victim; Cellar, Gryffen, and Straia. - cellar - 09-01-2015 I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail, Cbesides prayers growing stale on my tongue. Regardless of whatever she might feel with blood smeared across her cheek or caking her hands, the taste of copper on her tongue and salt in her eyes was always better than the alternative. To be without commands was to be empty enough to let her true thoughts come creeping in each night to haunt her every breath. For now, she only exhaled ghosts of who she really was when no one was watching. Somewhere deep in her gut an entirely different monster stirred and relished in the weakening of life; a death rattle was its lullaby and she had to keep them singing. Her eyes turn to Straia as she speaks of Cellar being something more than this, more than his pawn or bargaining chip, but she knows better. She says nothing but the silence is filled as Gryffen reprimands her for her thoughts as they hang from her lips as heavy as weights. Cellar's eyes briefly narrow before she catches the spark of anger in her chest. Ribs are cages for a reason, she reminds herself, and tucks the ember away for a better use. "I was not born for any purpose other than boredom," she says as vague memories flood her mind. Somewhere, not many years ago, a tiny girl had asked her father if he loved her mother. He had answered with cold calculation that he merely ran out of things to do - she was a side effect at best. She'd cried and cried herself to sleep for so many nights until Tyrael told her it was fine to be without purpose, that he would give her purpose. Maybe that was why she had fallen for him and carried a shard of him in her breast even now. He built her up where Vulgaris had broken her down. "I serve because I know would become something worse if I did not. Don't concern yourself with my burdens," she says to dismiss their concern for her status within the kingdom. She would stay, as she always did, but her mind was not a place to stroll through so casually. Her thoughts were briars and razorwire just waiting to entangle and rip apart. "What would you like me to do next, Gryffen?" I could give you my body, my flesh, offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet. E L L A R |