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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 10:05:25 GMT -5
It was almost too easy for her. She was a master of her craft that was for certain and once she finishes I walk over and look at the wound on her face, it was nasty but she had an unnatural aura about her so I had a feeling she would heal quick. Still, it had to hurt like the devil at this point. Being as nice as I was, I run out of the building and into the woods. It was there that I changed and gathered the few things that would make healing a little more comfortable for her. I don't shift back to my wolf form and instead sprint back to the warehouse and come up from behind her. Dodging the knife she held, I keep the various herbs in my hands along with a scrap of my torn shirt I had found along the way. Emerald gems dance over the bleeding wound marring her pretty face, If you wish, I can get that place fixed up pretty quick... Totally not paying attention to the fact that the drafts nipped at my bare frame, I keep my focus on her before taking a half bow, The name is Chandresh or just Chan for short by the way. So, you gonna stand there bleeding out or would you like me to help you out? A crooked grin is placed on my face as I watch her through the mess of hair on top of my head.
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Post by Verdana on Dec 16, 2010 10:29:14 GMT -5
So Pedro's still there, guarding the door. That's something that must be said for werewolves, Bree muses to herself. Damn loyal creatures. Gets them killed most of the time, but right now she's thankful for it. It means that he's stayed close. This is convenient. She can think about what to do with him without having to chase him down several alleyways. He's still in wolf form. His wolfy mug takes her in. He's a good-looking chap. Must be quite young. After a while, werewolves tend to look a little moth-eaten. And they start to smell, too. Maybe it would be better for society if she took him-
Wait, where's he going? Suddenly he's off like a shot. Did he get a bad vibe? Is he one of those werewolves with extra talents? can he read minds? Bree swears loudly and runs to the door, peering out to see the retreating end of a golden tail and not much else. Then she draws her head back in quite quickly as a large raindrop falls on the top of her cranium with a plop. Shaking her hair out, she scowls at the elements. She and 'cold and wet' don't get along. It's not just that she would much rather be curled up in front of a fire with a nice glass of port (which she would). It's more the fact that 'cold and wet' has been the culprit of many a bout of pneumonia. She swears again and begins to pace up and down, debating whether to go on a dangerous and possibly futile chase or to wait for the rain to ease.
Not much chance of that.
She hears footfalls on the cobbles. Great. Now she's going to be discovered with a corpse. Stupid werewolf and his... Oh. Huh. It is the stupid werewolf himself in human form. Everything happens a little too fast for her then. She takes in his face and then she takes in everything else. Everything else. Her training is good, she keeps from blushing, but for a while her face is completely frozen and Pedro speaks, apparently oblivious to his natural state. Then an expression of horror creeps over her mask.
She tries to keep composed and unfazed. She really does. But she's never had such a good look at... You may want to-ergh, she says, trying to be haughty. It quickly fails as she turns her back and puts her face in her hands. Her voice comes out muffled, but audible enough: For heaven's sake, put some pants on!
Oh, so Pedro's real name is Chan, is it? How nice. She'd like to know that in any situation other than this.
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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 10:40:11 GMT -5
An eyebrow is raised at her mask, quite amusing really. She then flips and covers her face before screaming at me to put something on. I grin, Well I would except for the fact that the only clothes I had in my possesion were torn to shreads when I shifted and I'd honestly rather not put tubby's pants on. For one, they stink, two, they would just fall right off again anyways. BUT since you asked so kindly, I shall try to find some... Placing the herbs on top of the cloth and setting the whole bundle down onto a nearby table, I vanish into the forest again to look for a cache of clothes I had hidden in various parts of the woods. After about ten minutes of searching through the mire and rain, I find a pair of pants stuffed in a knothole in an old oak tree. Shielding them from the rain as best as possible, I hurry back to the building and once in the dry surroundings I put them on. Going up to her and tapping her on the shoulder I still wear my previous grin, You can look now. So are you gonna let me help you with that pretty face or not?
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Post by Verdana on Dec 16, 2010 11:05:06 GMT -5
Bree is not used to feeling embarrassment, especially not at the expense of someone else. Especially when they seem to feel no inhibitions about what is making her cringe so badly. She keeps her eyes averted, feeling stupid but unable to alter her position. It's not as if she hasn't seen... You know, bits, before. She's seen plenty. She has few boundaries when it comes to getting a job done. If it means stripping naked and doing the tango, okay. Fine. She's just not used to it being a surprise. Urgh! He goes on and on about how he's going to remain naked for the rest of his life. She can look up now. She's expecting it. Come on, she urges herself. Just do it. But she can't. She just can't do it.
He leaves. She hears him leave. But still she keeps her head in her hands, as if he's only pretending to be clothed and is really standing there, stark naked, waiting for her to look up. She turns around, her face still covered, and then slowly peeks through her fingers. Nothing. He's gone. She uncovers her face, and goes about regaining her poise. By the time he gets back, she'll be herself. Aloof, assassinish, perfect. But she knows that she can't kill him now. Not when she's seen his family jewels. It just doesn't seem right. She goes over to the herbs, meaning to treat herself. Only, she doesn't recognise them. Not at all. She curses quietly. Stupid werewolf lore.
She hears more footsteps, and has to fight the urge to cover her face again. No, no, she'll be okay. It's just nudity. Just nudity. Chan re-enters the building, and Bree holds back a sigh of relief. He's got trousers on. Thank the blade. He's grinning as if he'd won a medal. Bree's scowl soon returns. How dare he embarrass her like that? She backs away when he gets closer, but her face is starting to sting and the sooner she gets home the better.
Do what you must, she grumbles, forcing herself to stand still and let him administer to her face. She's so flustered that she doesn't even begin to think of the obvious: These herbs might help a werewolf, or even a human. But what will they do to a Sylvan?
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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 11:34:57 GMT -5
I nod, Good, now hold still. Tearing a small section of the cloth off, I clean the excess blood off her face before taking a couple of herbs and crushing them together with my hands to form a paste. It was only juniper berries, yarrow, a touch of bank mud(which was a pain in the arse to find) and dried oak leaf, nothing bad. Taking a decent sized clump of it, I smear it on her wound before placing a large dock leaf on top of it all and somehow fasten it onto her face with a few thine vines I found. It wasn't pretty but it would do the job. I grab a couple of extra berries from the table and hand them to her, Here, eat these. It'll help with the pain. Go on, they're only fresh juniper berries, sweet to the taste. I pop one in my mouth to show her that it didn't hurt me in any way. Delicious. I nod and smile offering three of them to her once more. If she took them, well then she would feel a whole lot better, if not, oh well, she would still heal pretty quick.
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Post by Verdana on Dec 16, 2010 11:52:50 GMT -5
Bree does as she's asked, loathe as she is to cooperate with a wolf. She's had a long-standing dislike for the things after one stole her lunch when she was a child. Still, sometimes it feels nice to be taken care of. That hasn't happened... Did it ever happen? As far as she can remember she's been fending for herself. Then, when she got older, she was fending for herself and her father. It was a hard-knock life. But she coped. It made her strong. It gave her ambition, and then delivered her the skills to accomplish what she'd set out to. She's glad, in hindsight, that it was always an up-hill battle to survive. She's no limp little damsel. Hah!
The gooey mixture feels quite nice as it touches the cut. Doesn't sting at all. But it does feel a little funny... She thinks about scraping the substance off, but thinks better of it. No, it's probably just the healing properties of the plants going to work, she reckons. Still, it is an awfully odd sensation. All tingly-like. And as the werewolf works, adding a makeshift bandage to the mix, she feels less and less. Oh, it must be numbigng her skin! She reminds herself to ask wolf boy what he's using. She's never come across anything quite so strong.
He offers her a berry, and she takes it, but holds it in her hand suspiciously. She knows better than to injest random substances that she's offered. A lot of people with very far-reaching influences want her head on a platter. She'd rather not oblige them just yet. Wolf pops one in his mouth to show her they're not poison. She smiles to herself. they may not be poison for wolves. But who knows what they'll do to her? But then she looks at them again, and they look quite enticing. Almost familiar. Alarm bells begin to ring in her head, but they're being drowned out by an overall sense of well-being. Thoughtfully, she pops two into her mouth.
They take effect as soon as she bites down. The juice numbs her entire mouth, and it spreads. Fast. She halts in chewing, looking vaguely bewildered. Colours pop in front of her eyes. She staggers, her balance leaving her. Something's going wrong, warns the small functioning part of her mind, but the rest of her is completely oblivious. She staggers again. Then she stands still. Her eyes are slightly glazed. For a moment, a goofy little smile curves on her lips.
Then she drops to the floor, out cold.
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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 12:15:07 GMT -5
So far so good, she grins and takes the berries, I decide I like her smile. Then she munches on the offered berries and gets wobbly, crap. Even worse, she passes out on the floor. At this point I have no idea what to do. Picking her up in my arms like a child, I debate on going to the caravan but they would most likely do a few awful things to her considering she looked like some of the people that hunted my kind. Growling with frustration, I clutch her, as limp as she is, and decide to take her to one of my hidey holes I had around town. The rain pelts down hard onto my skin as I rush to the destination but I don't feel it so worried was I about Bree's health. Dodging the main part of town, I wander farther out until we were out into what would be called the outskirts. Searching the few hills, I find what I'm looking for and dart inside. It was a tiny cottage invisible to most in town considering it was hidden behind a huge hill. Placing her onto the bed that was in the one room cabin, I pull together some kindling and start up a fire to keep the place free of chills. Walking over to the prone form on my bed, I brush her hair out of her face and find a blanket to cover her with so she would stay warm. Finding the kettle I needed, I go to a shelf and pull out yet more herbs. Hesitant as I was about using them since she just passed out from what was supossed to heal her, I put them into the holder anyways along with some water and place it all over the fire. Soon, a tea was bewing. It was used for reviving someone from a state of unconciousness. Quite handy to have around. Peppermint, nettle and rosehips were all that was in it. Finding a handmade cup, I fill it once it was fully done and go over to the bed once more. I place her head in my lap and tilt it slightly fowards. Then I let some of the steam from of the tea waft under her nose before touching the cup to her lips. Only a tiny amount came out but that's all I wanted to flow for now, anymore and she would choke. Luckily for me, her lips were already parted a bit so it went down her throat easy her body taking over the natural reaction of swallowing. Poor girl, I was going to catch hell for this once she woke up that was for sure...
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Post by Verdana on Dec 16, 2010 12:34:25 GMT -5
Bree's head becomes a very mixed-up place. She dreams, but not in the usual way people dream. First she dreams she's riding on a goldfish. She's clinging to the dorsal fin and they're riding through the forest, She wonders how that's possible. She looks down and notices that the goldfish has grown handsome naked man legs. Well that's okay then, she thinks and keeps going. The forest becomes a ballroom, and Bree jumps off her goldfish. She's dressed in a sparkling gown. She looks like a princess. She swirls, and immediately she's surrounded by... Men at first, but soon...
She dances with a goat called Alphonse, and a gorgeous potplant called Henry. Then she's in the kitchen and she's making pavlova. The berries and the meringue are turning out great. That's good. She always battles with pavlova. She feels someone draw near. Someone's hugging her. Hugging her close. It's warm. She looks up, and it's Chandresh. And he's naked. He's offering her his hand, and they're spinning, spinning, and he's bending in to kiss her. Mmm... She closes her eyes, and leans in...
And then she regains a bit of coherence. Her eyes flutter. Something's warm in her mouth. Warm and moist and... She shakes her head, her lips are still numb. He's right there. He's still kissing her. A tiny little smile crosses her face. Your lips taste like peppermint, she mutters to herself, smiling again. Do it againnn... No!
She sits upright woozily. Did she just... She... Did she just... She can't wake up. She's all numb, and woozy and numb and she can't force her eyes open. She groans, trying to move her fingers and failing. She's feeling a little anxious, then a lot anxious.
What the hell's going on? And did she, or did she not, kiss the wolf boy?
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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 12:44:31 GMT -5
I startle slightly as she leaps up and then lays back down. A wry smile crosses my lips, Easy sweetheart, you didn't do anything nor did I. It's tea and by the looks of it, it's started to work. Here, drink a bit more...[/i] I hold the cup up to her lips once more and wait for her to take a sip. I had been musing while she was out cold. Not alot of species acted that way to juniper berries, only one or two and one was almost extinct. The question crosses my mind and I debate a few moments before asking it, You're Sylvan aren't you? Should've known from your scent but I wasn't thinking. I'm really sorry about the berries Bree, I should've known better, I just wanted to get you healed up so fast because that cut on your face wasn't flattering at all... My voice trails off as I look to the wall but then back down to her. Absently, I start to play with her hair. It was a bit tangled and wet but thast didn't stop me from doing it. My eyes run over her face, Come on, drink some more tea, it'll help I promise. As for your comment about my lips and your request, that's for you to only find out if you wish. I won't do anything like that, I may be a wolf but I'm no pig... Setting the cup down onto the table next to the bed, I continue to play with her hair to try and placate the oncoming fury I saw in my near future once she fully awoke.
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Post by Verdana on Dec 16, 2010 13:13:15 GMT -5
Bree settles, but only because she feels shaky and numb and weak. She's not convinced. No, not at all. Where has the wolf boy brought her? She's out of the rain, and warm. He hasn't just left her somewhere as he should have. There's also something covering her, constricting her. Is he holding her hostage? She lets him feed her the tea, only because it truly is starting to take effect. She can feel her fingers now, then her wrists. She twitches, trying to encourage motion as she listens to Wolf Boy speak. How much does he know? Who does he work for? And where's her head resting?
Oh. Oh no no no. He knows what she is. Knows she's Sylvan. Who told him? She doubts he could have figured it out on his own. After all, it's not like she makes it obvious. And he knows her name too! She didn't tell him that. She didn't... She never said... Her heart races. She's in over her head. He's dangerous. She knows that she could take him out in a heartbeat, but she's still numb. Still terribly numb. She can feel her arms now, and her feet... And now he's flirting with her. Wait, what?
Finally, her eyes flicker open. To give her the biggest shock of her life. His fingers are in her hair. And she's lying on his lap. Her breath halts for a milisecond. He's a... He must be... You pervert! she shrieks, leaping up and stumbling. She regains her footing, and trips to the door. You lousy rapist! How dare you? Who set you up to this? What did they promise you, huh? A little fun before you slit my throat? Well! Cheeks red with fury (and possibly that tea he made her), Bree storms to the door as well as one can when they still can't feel their thighs. She hauls the door open and strides into the wetness. The door's barely slammed behind her when she's soaked in a deluge of rain.
It takes her a few seconds to make a calculation. Her core temperature's warm. Outside is not. Walking back home would definitely harm her. However, where else can she go? She looks back at the cottage, wet strands of hair sticking to her face. Her shoulders slump. She lifts her face and shrieks in frustration. Hitching up her waterlogged cloak, she stomps back to the almost-hidden door.
She throws it open, looking mutinous, but stands on the threshhold. Serial rapist, or death by pneumonia? She looks outside. Gah. She looks inside. Gah! And she stomps over to the fire, throwing herself down in front of it with a decidedly chilly attitude. And a squelch. She looks down at her cloak. That's a health hazard and no mistake. Unfortunately, she's wearing a black silk dress underneath it from another job which is more than flattering to her figure.
She throws her head back and screams in frustration. This never happened to the assassins of lore!
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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 13:25:23 GMT -5
She shrieks and stomps out the door only to come back in moments later to sit in front of the fire. Stunned by her acusasions, I sit on the bed dumbfounded as she screams again. Placing the now empty cup on the stand I get up and toss the blanket from the bed to her with a hurt look on my face that I mostly masked, Sorry for my nature I was born with. I don't know if you know alot about werewolves but we are pack oriented, family oriented. If someone's hurt it's in our DNA to care for that person in the most tender way possible. As for my knowledge about your name and species, your name is known everywhere and only two species react that way to juniper berries. Once I put together your scent with the ones I've learned in studying, it was obvious. I wasn't trying to be a pervert but if you declare it to be so, I see there is no changing your mind. Think what you wish about me, all I was doing was trying to help... My baritones echo with remorse and I turn away to go sit outside. I didn't care about the rain and it didn't bother me a bit but still my thoughts wandered back to Bree and how she was feeling. Why should I care about her? She who dragged me into her job and then berates me like a naughty child when all I was doing was obeying my nature? But no, some part of me cared and I couldn't shove it away no matter how hard I tried. But I could refuse to go back inside, which I did. Letting the rain pour down my hair and bare torso, I sit against the cabin and stare off into the distance.
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Post by Verdana on Dec 16, 2010 13:46:19 GMT -5
Oh dear. She's hurt his feelings. Now her attacker's going to go outside and sulk. So riled up and, though it's hard to admit, scared as she is, she takes his words with haughty scorn. She sits in front of the fire. Now that he's gone, she'll take of her cloak and hang it to dry. She might as well take advantage at his childish behaviour if she's forced to endure it. So she does, and soon her dress is warm, if still wet. Her coat begins to steam and give off the odour of metal and fighting and alcohol. The smells of her trade.
As she simmers and her temper cools, she begins to think about what the wolf boy said. She remembers what she's learnt about werewolves. She remembers the nurture instinct that they have to fight to lose. Some manage, and become invincible for it. Most do not. A stirring of something starts at her chest. She tries to shake it off, but it just gets stronger and stronger. Maybe she was too hasty. If he was going to hurt her, wouldn't he have done it while she was out cold? Or at the bar? In fact, there were ample chances for him to attack before. But he didn't. Why didn't he?
Because she judged him far too harshly.
She looks to the door of the little cottage, which is closed but outside doubtlessly harbours a very wounded werewolf. She knows how they take things to heart. She should have thought before she spoke. Guilt wells up in her throat. She turns away, she resists. It just gets stronger. Eventually, Bree's good heart conquers her wary assassin persona. She has to go and find him, has to go and make amends. She listens to the pattering rain, and looks at her dripping, steaming black cloak. She swears under her breath, and stands.
The wind blows the door back against her hands. She fights it, and it eases. She slips outside, and almost trips over Wolf Boy. She hesitates, looks at his defeated stance. Then she makes her way to the other side of the door, the one he isn't on, and sits down in the mud. She sits in silence for a little. The rain calms enough for her voice to be audible. She knows she has to speak, but for the first time since she can remember, she's tongue-tied. She has to say something, though. He offered her somewhere to stay, and honestly tried to help. And she accused him of rape.
I've never once in my life been hugged out of affection. Well, that was unexpected. But it's out now, so she'd better go with it before her mind catches up. I mean, sometimes it was half affection, but it was drunk affection. It's different. People hug me because they're trying to restrain me, or strangle me, or break my ribs or something. But no one's ever done something like that, never touched me, out of concern or goodwill. There's a long pause, and Bree stares out into the grey, foggy, rain-soaked land. She adjusts her hood a little so that the wet wind didn't spray her quite so much. So I know I was hasty. And I'm sorry for that. It was cruel. But it was also necessary, if you see what I mean.
That's the most sincere she's been since she was a toddler. Hmm. Imagine that.
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Post by Channeh on Dec 16, 2010 13:59:00 GMT -5
Her words hit on my ears numbly. I could hear them but the hurt was still processing in my brain so they weren't actually heard until sometime after she finishes speaking. Glancing over, I see that she's pulled her hood up over her face farther, it was too cold. Standing up, I walk over and sit next to her my eyes on the mud and my voice soft, I'm not going to say I'm sorry for your experience with the lack of affection thing because it would be meaningless. I know now why you did what you did and I'm not going to start pouring my feelings out to you if that's what you think. In fact, I'll keep my mouth shut and you can go wherever you wish and I won't say a word. Just know that I'm always around for you to talk to or have someone to actually hug you or take care of you if you feel the need for it. As it stands now however, we, or you at least, need to go inside. This weather is brutal and you're still recovering... Standing up again, I hold the door open and wait for her to go in my eyes still on the ground, I didn't feel confident enough to look her in the face so soon after she accused me of rape, not yet.
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Post by Verdana on Dec 17, 2010 3:49:47 GMT -5
There's silence for a while more. No, it isn't silence. The patter of rain and drip and squelch of the sodden landscape keep a dull cacophony echoing in the air. Bree looks straight forward, ignoring her discomfort. She's sat through worse on stake-out. She could go inside, but she won't. When a'Briva Lachrimose starts something, she finishes it. She'll wait here until he responds, either in anger (foolish) or forgiveness (less foolish, but still foolish). She wraps her wet cloak around herself a little tighter, drawing her knees to her chest. Unsurprisingly, this doesn't make her any warmer. Stupid winter, she thinks morosely.
Squelch. He's here. She tenses a little, just in case he's some evil maniac after all and this has all been a ploy to earn her trust and he's about to take out some rope and truss her up and feed her to an elephant... No. He's forgiving her. Her shoulders relax as much as they ever do, which isn't very much. He's not forgiving her, not entirely. That's fine. She even respects that, in her odd way. He does, however, make the very good suggestion that they go inside. Bree silently concurs with a nod. She's said all she needs to, and doesn't plan to speak again unless strictly necessary.
She strides through the door, wishing she didn't drip quite so much. She'd wake up tomorrow with a cold for sure, she thinks glumly. She goes straight to the fire and whips off her travelling cloak, to reveal her bedraggled-looking dress. She throws the cloak over the grate to dry yet again, and seats herself as close to the flames as she can without singeing her hair. Soon the flames have put a rosy glow in her cheeks, and she's beginning to doze lightly.
Maybe werewolves are good for something after all.
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Post by Channeh on Dec 17, 2010 6:59:33 GMT -5
For once my fire had cooled and I wasn't the cheerful pup who she first met. This was probably due to the weather and the whole feeling in the entire cabin. Once she took her cloak off, inside I light up with amazment, she had a wonderful figure. I keep it inside though and keep quiet as I collect a few extra blankets and another pillow. Placing them on the bed, I then find a specific rug in the trunk from the corner of the room that the linens had come from. Shaking it out so that if anything was in it would scoot, I roll it up and set it next to the fire to warm up a bit. Noticing that she was starting to fall asleep by the hearth, I place my hand on her shoulder hesitantly not knowing her reaction, biting my lip, I continue, You can sleep in the bed if need be, you look wore out beyond all reasoning. Go on, go to bed, it's getting late and you need your sleep... I didn't say where I would be or even what I would be doing for that manner but it did include staying as far as I could away from her whilst at the same time making sure she would be warm and fed in the morning.
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