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caughtinanetwork2013-02-06 01:11 pm
shesapir8) wrote in caughtinanetwork2013-02-06 01:11 pm
003; Rising Sun; Dream post
[It may have been sweeps since she'd stepped into another's mind, but that doesn't mean the skill is gone. And when push comes to shove it's only natural that instincts override new habits.
She's never been truly been accepted by the Summoner's followers. Nor has she been liked. Whispers of suspicion have always followed her, and she's always ignored them, shrugging them off with a sly smirk. It mattered not what they thought of her, and she had no reason to try and change their minds.
It happens quick, in a fight and it's so easily to go into their minds, and control. It's a rush and oh god she has missed this, so much, the power singing through her mind as she cuts through thoughts and plants her own. It doesn't take long and in the end she's the only one standing amongst a crowd of fallen, and the dulled moans of those only injured stir her back into the real world.
And then she realises what she's just done and the sickening sense of déjà vu fills her. This is it. This is what causes it, this is the moment she takes her true steps towards death. What else could it be, really.
That doesn't mean she'll let her death be public. No. If she must be made weak, only one troll can see her like that. It's easy to take off, into the woods, dawn still many many hours away and wait amongst the trees. He'll find her, once he knows, and he'll know soon enough.
Hours pass, and she waits, fingers curled between blades of strange colour grass, her eyes fixed on the beams of two full moons. Each breath is savoured, knowing that each could be her last, and finally she hears the snap of a twig under a foot. She rises, limbs heavy, her coat left in a puddle on the ground as she turns to face him]
Spinneret?
Lysunder.
[Her voice is barely a murmur, but she steps towards him, into the pale pink light of one moon. There's confusion in his eyes, hurt too, but she won't mention it. And then there's the sudden thought to run, take off between the trees. She's fast, she's strong. She could take him down, at least make it hard for him to follow and make a run. She could live, beat fate.
But she'd have to keep on living without him. Knowing she could never ever see him again. And she still has so many sweeps.
It's so much easier to just step forward, smile faintly as his hand touches her cheek and move into the kiss.
The push of a blade into her heart shouldn't surprise her so, but she can't help but gasp, so soft it could be easily miss, and pull back to watch cerulean stain her once white shirt. Looking back up into his eyes hurts so much more then the blade, even when he pulls it free to make the wound truly weep.
She's built tougher then a lowblood. So it takes longer to bleed out, takes longer for her legs to stagger then give out, leaving her to collapse into his arms. She clings to him with the last of her strength, feeling wetness where her cheek touches his and he lowers them both down onto the grassy forest floor. She's weak as he shifts her around, to sit more comfortably in his lap for her last few minutes, and the world begins to grow fuzzier and fuzzier, air becoming so much harder to get.
There's still enough strength in her for his to lift her hand to his cheek, smearing blood across the skin. And she should hate him so much for doing this to her, should hate herself for letting him do it, but all she can do is smile, hand falling, voice fading.]
My brave boy... my brave, brave boy... love...
[And then she's alone on the forest floor. Her shirt is soaked with blood, but the wound is closed, a dark scar against her chest, only just visible in the gap at the top of her shirt. She's not dead but she looks it. Especially with how still she lays, struggling to hold onto tears she won't let herself shed.] (Ooc; interaction can either be in the dream or through video)
She's never been truly been accepted by the Summoner's followers. Nor has she been liked. Whispers of suspicion have always followed her, and she's always ignored them, shrugging them off with a sly smirk. It mattered not what they thought of her, and she had no reason to try and change their minds.
It happens quick, in a fight and it's so easily to go into their minds, and control. It's a rush and oh god she has missed this, so much, the power singing through her mind as she cuts through thoughts and plants her own. It doesn't take long and in the end she's the only one standing amongst a crowd of fallen, and the dulled moans of those only injured stir her back into the real world.
And then she realises what she's just done and the sickening sense of déjà vu fills her. This is it. This is what causes it, this is the moment she takes her true steps towards death. What else could it be, really.
That doesn't mean she'll let her death be public. No. If she must be made weak, only one troll can see her like that. It's easy to take off, into the woods, dawn still many many hours away and wait amongst the trees. He'll find her, once he knows, and he'll know soon enough.
Hours pass, and she waits, fingers curled between blades of strange colour grass, her eyes fixed on the beams of two full moons. Each breath is savoured, knowing that each could be her last, and finally she hears the snap of a twig under a foot. She rises, limbs heavy, her coat left in a puddle on the ground as she turns to face him]
Spinneret?
Lysunder.
[Her voice is barely a murmur, but she steps towards him, into the pale pink light of one moon. There's confusion in his eyes, hurt too, but she won't mention it. And then there's the sudden thought to run, take off between the trees. She's fast, she's strong. She could take him down, at least make it hard for him to follow and make a run. She could live, beat fate.
But she'd have to keep on living without him. Knowing she could never ever see him again. And she still has so many sweeps.
It's so much easier to just step forward, smile faintly as his hand touches her cheek and move into the kiss.
The push of a blade into her heart shouldn't surprise her so, but she can't help but gasp, so soft it could be easily miss, and pull back to watch cerulean stain her once white shirt. Looking back up into his eyes hurts so much more then the blade, even when he pulls it free to make the wound truly weep.
She's built tougher then a lowblood. So it takes longer to bleed out, takes longer for her legs to stagger then give out, leaving her to collapse into his arms. She clings to him with the last of her strength, feeling wetness where her cheek touches his and he lowers them both down onto the grassy forest floor. She's weak as he shifts her around, to sit more comfortably in his lap for her last few minutes, and the world begins to grow fuzzier and fuzzier, air becoming so much harder to get.
There's still enough strength in her for his to lift her hand to his cheek, smearing blood across the skin. And she should hate him so much for doing this to her, should hate herself for letting him do it, but all she can do is smile, hand falling, voice fading.]
My brave boy... my brave, brave boy... love...
[And then she's alone on the forest floor. Her shirt is soaked with blood, but the wound is closed, a dark scar against her chest, only just visible in the gap at the top of her shirt. She's not dead but she looks it. Especially with how still she lays, struggling to hold onto tears she won't let herself shed.] (Ooc; interaction can either be in the dream or through video)
voice; private
[And it had helped keep her conscious, even as he worked. It had been painful, and he never was such a drinker like her, so that wouldn't dull the pain.
And yes, she will, thank you]
If you want to believe that, do. I've better things to do then argue with a statement so incredibly wrong.
[Even if it was a little bit true]
voice; private
[Okay, deep breath.]
I don't think it needs saying, but just in case... I'm not going to leave him just because you're here. I owe you a life debt, but I won't give you my life, especially the one I've made here.
voice; private
[Huffy exhale]
Yeah yeah I get that. But if that makes you think I will raise my hands in surrender you need a check your thinkpan. I'm not the type to surrender and you know that.
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