Post by Mila on Nov 25, 2012 8:17:11 GMT -5
21:44:42 IIII watched as a young man made his way to the fountain and carelessly left his unattended escort on the edge of the dance floor, tempting others to take her in their arms. Noticing that her partner would linger he, who too wore a plain black domino and tailored tuxedo of the same hue, filled a chalice of the awful licorice lead and swigged the bitter liquid. There was no muddiness, no drunken confusion in his mind for this man was knowledgeable enough to know of his limit, and the duties that requested sobriety took precedence over all. A few mouthfuls and he left the remainder for the siren he intended to ensnare, his dark gaze stalking her form from across the room, and throwing caution to the wind, he stepped up behind her as he had watched her partner doing not a half turn of the clock before. His forearm slid across her slim waist, bringing her smaller, petite body, so weak in comparison, to his. Dark head bowing so that from his height he could better whisper into her ear. “I have a surprise for you.” The different timbre of his voice may well go unnoticed in a mute whisper, particularly when the girl's senses would not be at her best – courtesy of the others thoughtfulness and unexpected assistance with the punch. The precious liquid was offered to her small hands while he remained behind her for the moment. “Come with me.” His intentions made, his larger hand took an unyielding grip of hers and gently lead her from the ballroom with her trailing smaller steps behind his lengths. Like stealing sweets from an infant, only he was snatching a beauty from a fool that had thought to leave her alone.
04:27:39 Lara turned and stepped like the most elegant of puppets, drawn and ushered by the most skilful, Master puppeteer. Her mind had grown hazy and there was a delicious dizziness that only added to the whimsical beauty of the Masquerade, guises drifting past her enchanted eyes without any comprehension felt. Though it did not come to her attention, things in the Masquerade began to alter. Fae who had worn their wings for magnificent observation, Chameleon's who had stained elaborate colours and effects upon their person were plain once more. Once left, her jade eyes spied a nearby, recently vacated seat and thinking to take it for her own, she smoothed the skirts of her luxuriant gown and stepped limber and graceful as ever for a moment's rest that she found herself restricted for. Perhaps she should have noticed that he was back unsettlingly swiftly. Perhaps, those orbs of enrapturing Jade should have picked that her partners stained hair had quickly become tawny in the light and that this man, was dark of hair. She did not notice these things. Instead her melodic giggles sounded as he took to spinning her about once more, a pretty blush colouring her cheeks and then he had promised her a surprise. A typically, lucky youth, the girl behind the gilt mask loved surprises. Laughing and smiling she hurried to keep up with him, dragged behind while he led her astray. Most importantly a much needed chalice of sweetness found home in her free, dainty hand, and she found herself sipping greedily as they left the frivolity of the ballroom and into the quiet of the Hall. “Where are we going?” She enquired, following even as they left the school and moved through the courtyard and through the fields, causing the impractical stiletto of her heel to sink into the grass on multiple occasions. Lara voiced her distaste by a little yelp here and there, but she braved the hike for she was quite interested in this 'surprise' the boy had for her. All intoxicated naivety and poorly placed trust, she faltered in her step and jerked on her own arm to stop. “Wait.” If he heeded her request, a pretty smile found her lips while she performed a most graceful lean with a flourish, sitting the fine chalice on the ground as if presenting it to a King, and then she was ready to continue their trek. “Onward, soldier!” The French girl was quite the amusing little drunk, tilting her head back to better stare into the eye of the midnight sky. Reverently whispering, “Pretty lights..” she stared at the blinking, swirling stars before noticing that trees were beginning to interrupt the pretty picture. Only then did it come to her attention that they had entered the forest. Awestruck, she whispered again though there was no one to hear them, “Are you helping me escape?”
04:35:41 IIll failed to notice the alterations and differences in the garb and appearance of the students and faculty alike. His distracted mind could not lay fault at the feet of alcohol for the young man was experienced enough to taste the human poison and limit his consumption responsibly, because duty must come before entertainment and weakness. Swallowing a mouthful or two would not cloud his mind, but the adrenaline of the tasks ahead excited him darkly. She was so innocent, so naïve, so foolish. A cracked smile was stared into the night as he all but thieved her from the Masquerade and into darkness, but the time was not yet. They must be alone. So alone that no interventions could dare stop him from what must be done. Where are we going?Her girlish voice offered a pang of protective regret, she was so young and unsuspecting of what would come. “You will see.” She would see. No Seer, but he could foresee tears, screams, begging and disbelief. All would precede the eventual acceptance – they always accepted their fate in the end. An Ether-touched instinct to know that sacrifices, even in the forms of their own lives, must be made? He could honour that. Expelling his breath impatiently the masked man stopped, an agitated form as she slowly, so slowly gifted the grass with a chalice and before she was quite ready his iron grip tugged forcefully at her limb and pulled her along. Soldier, yes that was he. A soldier that fought for the Ether-touched. The entirety of their race needed him, needed what he must do tonight, needed what he had done before. It was for them. For the greater good. A muscle in his jaw twitched as she spoke of lights and asked him of escape and he could only answer honestly, dark mirth and enjoyment in words. “Yes.. you are going to escape Lara Locke. You will never see this place again.” A dream come true, wasn't it? To end her three year sentence in a single night? She should be thanking him, if anything, he was a philanthropist and a half and one day, people would revere him for the sacrifices he made, the heroic acts he performed all for the future of his kind. Journeying to the forest until he decided they had travelled long enough and far enough to ensure that he need not muffle her screams like he had with Charlemagne. He preferred it when they screamed. Cheyenne had screamed, and they never found her, but every day he expected one of the Mer to delve too deep into the loch and find her stone laden body. Every day the Gods protected their hero all the more. Releasing Lara he took a few silent moments to stare at his prey, and considered how best he could dispose of her. The loch? It would mean he'd need carry her far. Dark eyes dropped to the ground, where cold mist covered the earthen surface and likely chilled the sparsely clad girl to her bones. He could bury her here. Fancying that he'd watch her face when he fought for their kind, he ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek bone and then capable hands were lifting the gilt mask from her face and dropping it to the ground. “A beauty. Such a waste of Pure blood. I almost considered you for me.” His eyes glazed with concentration and he gripped for power, willing it to course through his muscular form and delve into the control of his hands. A menial task, he wanted only light. Light to see her. To watch the tears. Nothing happened. Confused, he gripped for a hold of his casting again. Nothing. Startled, he attempted to conjure flames. Nothing. It was as though someone had stolen a part of his soul, enraged and violated he growled low in his throat. “Bitch! What have you done?!” This demon had stolen his soul from him. Lashing out, he brutally hit her across the face. He gripped her arms and shook her violently. “Tell me!”
04:48:25 Lara 's plush rosebud lips formed a childish pout in the face of his roughness and hurry. It was early yet, there was plenty of time to show her. “You're hurting me,” she complained in a whine, expecting to illicit and apology and perhaps a greater surprise for the trouble neither of which were afforded her. Her dainty feet did not take well to trekking in stiletto's, not with the uneven mist-covered ground being impossible to navigate. She was often tripping and paining her ankles, his relentless grip on her arm all that kept her from falling to her knees. When at last he confirmed that this 'surprise' involved her escape, the girl stopped mid-step and was likely jerked back into hiking. “But..” Her head turned for the direction they had come, seeking things in the darkness that were impossible to see. I don't know if I want to leave any more. Her tongue ran over her full, lower lip and she procured and excuse, “But my.. things. I left my things.” Fingertips found the slim chain that hung around her neck, it's pendant disappearing beneath the bejewelled corset that was as impractical for the unexpected exercise as her shoes. Warily she informed him.. “I want to go back now..” Lara wasn't quite sure she wanted this surprise after all. But she did not leave his side when they came to a stop. The girl did not know the way back herself, the way was dark and she wasn't entirely sure she was capable of even an orb of light. Whatever fear that had begun to settle upon her drifted naively as he complimented her beauty and lifted the mask, her smile dropping as he spoke confusing words about her purity and threw her mask down. “Hey.” Crouching in a pool of of Champagne skirts her dainty hands felt blindly around her for the mask. Suddenly he was cursing her. People didn't dare to yell at her that way.. In seconds the situation escalated. She gasped as she was roughly pulled to a stand, cried out when the shock of his bruising fist contacted her face, the impact tipping her to the ground but before she could fall he was shaking her like a doll. Her head jerked back and lolled forward. Tell him what? All she knew was that her face was numb, the copper taste of blood and liquorice was in her mouth and that everything was spinning darkness. It was cold. She was tired. Scared. She felt God awful sick. Shocked tears made her hazy sight all the more diluted and blurred, but with all the unpractised, physical defence she could procure she acted on instinct. One small hand that clutched her gilt mask hacked at his face with one quick swing, her other hand made a small fist and pummelled him in the chest with all the force of a two kittens. No, three. Somewhere beyond her stupidity and intoxication a voice was telling her this wasn't Brax, something about a Caster and the girl in the bathroom. Only one message broke through. Run. Lara turned and ran as best as a girl running in pitch darkness could manage. Her digits gripped fistfuls of her gown so she could run unhindered but she kept knocking into things. Trees and branches loomed from nowhere, scraping and tearing at flesh and fabric alike. Too scared to care much for the need for stealth, the panicked girl yelped, choked on a sob and panted loudly in the silence of the night. 'The smart thing to do would have been to make it bloody brighter, not darker. How are you supposed to defend yourself if you can't see a flaming thing?'The memory assailed her and she was reaching into the hidden pocket of her gown for her ever present, bright-pink zippo. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her hand shook so that she needed four attempts to get the lick of a flame. She tried. She really, tried. A desperate cry left her when she couldn't draw any kind of power to make a torch.
04:55:07 IIll ignored her requests to leave as expected and continued in his arrangement. When he found no pull of power from his Gifts the Mage acted in unruly violence, no strategy to be found in the shocked, startled pain that came with the removal of his Ether, his power. He shook her hatefully, and was caught off guard at her instinct to defend herself. The sharp gilt side of wire and masque clipped him on his left side, grazing only just his eye. He yelled profanities in pain, one hand coming to shield his wound and the girl seemingly took the opportunity to run. She would not get far. Once eye closed and blood seeping down his face he began his pursuit, his steps faster, made easier in durable boots and unhampered by unnecessary amounts of material. He was bigger. He was faster. He was sober. Gifts gone or not, this young man was stronger and she would not get far not when she was so easily to follow. The short lead she had gained on him began to close, aided by her fooling around with a lighter, the tiny flame a beacon in the black forest. Sprinting and then lunging for her, he only just missed. Quick little thing. But one hand shot out, his capable hand grabbing a hold of the train of her gown and pulling her down with a yank. If she fell he gained on her and secured his hand around her ankle. “You little whore.” Yanking, he tested the socket of her limb and dragged her back toward him.
05:05:10 Lara was sobbing between choked breaths as he gained on her, and tried as she might, limber and graceful there was no way she could outrun him this night. Distractions had kept her from a midday and evening meal. Braxton had encouraged the naïve girl until drinking punch she was unaware had been tampered with. Already exerted from the trek into the forest, how could she find her way swiftly back? The corset was a vice around her slim waist, making breathing a fight in itself. Her scantily clad form was chilled in the Winter night, every branch swipe like the lick of a lash against her thawed flesh. She was a painting of slim red lines, one marked on her left cheek that stung like fire while blood oozed from the corner of her mouth and tempted her to gag. Her tulle skirts and train snagged on every twig and rock and then.. he grabbed her. Lara screamed. No one heard. Her body hit the ground with a painful thump and before she could dare tear her skirts from the encagement of his hand he had a hold of her slim ankle and was dragging her front-first into his grip. She writhed against the ground, brunette hair flicking up in a tangled mess. “Please!” She begged, ”Stop! Plea-,” sobbing, “ease.” Tears streamed down her face while frantic thoughts tore through her with questions of why? What had she done to deserve this? “Non! Je..ne veux pas mourir.” Lara's fight began to give to exhaustion, and she whispered again to nobody, “Je ne veux pas mourir.” Her face pressed to the ground, the youth did what many frightened, dying children would.. “Papa j'ai besoin de vois.”
05:11:51 IIll growled his hatred. The young man was sick and twisted. Call him controlled and powerful, think him quiet and of no consequence but there were reasons this young man was confined here. Psychotic disease was found even in Ether-touched and he truly believed her did what he did for the good of everyone. A hero. When he pulled her beneath him she began crying in desperation, pleading for mercy and trailing off into French. There was no mercy in him. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her body up, one hand securing itself around her throat, unyielding grip blocking her supply of air and bruising her soft skin with the imprint of his hand. “You demon! What have you done to me?” His hand trailed from her throat to a necklace she wore and ripped it roughly enough to break the skin where chain met her neck. Wrath drove him to flip her over to face him, gripping the girl by her bare shoulders and slapping her head into the ground. Meanwhile, his legs wove with hers to hold her in place, dominating easily with his superior height, brawn and strength. “I do this for our future! You have taken everything you fool!” To say he was spitting with rage was a sore understatement. His eyes were bulging, body tense and he shook and yelled with the ferocity of an untamed beast. Were's aint got shit on this kid. Straddling her, he pressed his hands into her shoulders to force her lashed back into the dirt. The one hand released said grip, easing on her? No. Feral, he punched her abdomen with shattering force. Not once. Not even twice. He didn't stop. Her torso could very well be a soft and broken with no semblance of bone beneath when he was through.
05:19:19 Lara wailed softly when he pulled her up by the hair, one hand shakingly pressed to the ground to hold herself up the other trying to pull his fingers free of her brunette locks and then his hand, when he began to choke her. Lara spluttered in his hold, doe-eyed as Jade eyes stared through the blur of tears into the darkness. Everywhere there was darkness. Her head began to pound and she felt herself unable to struggle with more than more meagre of efforts at his hand. I am going to die. The realisation hit her in full force while her eyelids drooped. I am going to die in the forest. I will not attend another a class. I will not graduate. I will never see my family again, nor will I make one of my own. No one will find what is left of me. There will be no justice. Giving up, and promising herself there was at least peace in closing her eyes she felt her life's breath slow. It was with the shock of one pulled from death's grip below water and breaking the surface to sweet, pure air that she gasped for oxygen when he allowed her to breathe. Vaguely she felt him ripping away her necklace and someone cried out softly, enraged at the act. It was her. Dainty hands fumbled in the dirt for her pendant before he flipped her over and began to slam her head into the ground. What rifling in the ground reminded her was that she had dropped her zippo. The little pink lighter was enclosed in one hand. Screams and sobs created a symphony as he slammed her head into the ground and then took to punching her. She felt, nae heard the crack of rips and crush of muscle. Lara saw stars. Jagged pain scored her, more so than the lashes had. Begging it not to fail her she drew her last card, her last chance and settled the lighter in her hands, flipping back the lip. Flame. Precious, ignited flame. So small and weak but in the right place.. Mid punch, he was distracted enough for her to shove the flickering flame into his eye with both a burn and punch. Lara was no gladiator but preying on his weak spots may just get her out. If the abyss of pain saved her even a second or two from the onslaught she would bring one leg up from a store of power and energy she didn't know she still had. Kneeing him first in the rear, then jerking up to knee him in the groin. Writhing until she'd knocked him off of her so that she could slip to a stand. One stiletto clad put stomped in a last effort of violence on the back of his calf, the sharp heel easily breaking the skin with enough force behind it. After dislodging it.. Run. The brunette stopped. Foolish sentimentality causing her to dart, or rather limp back for the glinting pendant on the ground. Closing her hand around it, now.. she ran.
05:31:07 IIll was as exactly as unprepared for the flame as she had expected him to be, and the man was deterred from his vicious pummelling of her weak body to yell in agony. His hands shielded his face and then the kick to his ground produced a grunt of pain and winded, he may have been heavy but with enough force she could get out from under him. “You fucking bitch.” Lara would have gotten away but she came back, and in that moment he managed an unbalanced lunge, off center and missing his mark for he was ultimately useless in one eye. She fled. Rather than taking his chances with another pursuit, he shocked madly into the night “You can run Lara! But you can't hide!” Not once had she seen his face, and he need only find himself a trusted healer to remove the evidence on his face. He lumbered to his feet and made way for Hex in another direction, moving as fast as his injuries would allow him.
05:47:47 Lara did not sprint with the usual ease of a gazelle. Panicked, she ran as though he were on her tail the entire way, panted and cried, cold-fear driving her to lengths her body alone could not possibly have executed after her ordeal. She tripped and fell, upsetting her broken ribs and sorely bruised abdomen. Her back burned like fire, even in the chill of the night. Everything hurt. She brought herself to her feet and ran blindly in the night, likely turning circles. Countless times she couldn't move any further, her rolled swollen ankles wishing to be rid of her shoes but lacking the energy to remove them. Huddled to the ground crying until she had naught energy to even form tears, but her will to survive bid her to press on. In one small hand she held a zippo lighter and a pendant, both giving her the strength to make step after step, to pick herself up after every fall. With dawn came hope. Through the trees she could see the foreboding presence of Hex and never before had she been so pleased to see the structure, a dry, breathless wail of desperate relief leaving her parched, dehydrated throat. Lara could force her body to do the impossible no more. Collapsing to the ground, one small hand shakingly nursing the blood stained wound at her left side. Now that it was light enough, she did not want to look... instead she dragged her broken body through the sparse tree line. Only to the fields. Safety was at the fields. Surely someone would find her eventually, and deep down she knew she could go no further. The girl crawled until she made it to the very edge of the furthest field, and there she dropped. Lara Locke was a vision in Champagne, her long tulle skirts splayed beautifully around her, even torn and bloodied with her's and another's essence. She lay on her back, upsetting the day-old scores but nursing her front. Slender arms were peppered with thin cuts and bruises, particularly around her wrists and fingertips marking her upper arms and shoulders. Her neck was a foul mixture of purple and blue, the markings of his hands branding her again, and in the middle of his grip was a thin red line where a necklace once hung. As for the beautiful countenance of her face.. there was no color in her face, save for the corner of her forehead was bruised and bloodied, blood trailed from the corner of her mouth and down her chin, a scrape marring the soft flesh of her cheek. There were shadows beneath her eyes, long lashes resting on her cheeks. Her eyes were closed. Worse.. one might avoid looking at her abdomen. The ribs on her right side had been broken so violently and badly that bone tore through flesh and the fabric of her gown. Blood coloured her gown around the wound, some brown with age and splotches of deep red that mad it clear she still bled.