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Broken Wings
Posted: 23 Jan 2016, 00:56
by Trinity
Backdated: 1/11/2016
<Trinity> Trembling from exertion, the blonde stumbled her way into the caverns, her blood trailing behind her in thick pools. She ignored the looks her way, her hands gripping the walls before she suddenly stumbled, knees crashing into the floor. With a cry of pain, she gripped her head as her world darkened, leaving her breathless. Her palm pressed to the gaping wound in her skull, the metal of the bullet burning her flesh with each twist of her fingers. Her legs were coated in blood and her jacket was hanging halfway off her arms, revealing the gleaming white bone that protruded from her skin. Each tremble sent a fresh wave of pain through her, and as bile rose up the back of her throat, she bent forward, blood spewing from her lips. The strain on her stomach pushed the bullets in her gut out, the used ammo rolling across the rocks to rest near two sparkling gems.
Unable to lift herself back to her feet, she pressed one blood coated hand to the floor and groaned, tears streaming her cheeks and dripping onto her bruised lips. Despite all of the wounds she had endured, it was the poison rushing through her veins that had incapacitated her. She could feel her skin burning as her stomach twisted into knots, causing another round of blood to rush up her throat and coat the front of her torn tank. Shaking off a worried stranger’s hand, she used the last bit of strength she possessed, and pushed her thoughts into her husband's mind. She could only pray to every goddess she knew that he heard them in time. She had no other options. He had to find her - or she was going to die here.
e-entra--can't go far--
<Aksel> Advancing, the steel of his blade flashed in the darkness of the cavern as he stepped forward, pressing the attack. The creature they called “Shaman” retreated swiftly, a serpentine hiss escaped its teeth in a rush. In a second, he swapped tactics, lifting a boot and shoving it violently into the creature’s chest, sending it reeling back. As it regained its footing, the Necromancer lifted his rifle, muzzle zeroed on the abomination’s chest. “See you in hell.” He pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Eight times. When he stopped, the beast hit the floor of the cavern with a wet splat.
“******.” He exhaled through gritted teeth, jamming his knife into his belt as he lifted his hand to his abdomen. The bullet was deep, still working its way free from his flesh. It would be gone in the morning. He could feel it, the way the lead snaked its way through his body. He would be free of it. He ejected the magazine of his rifle as the words pushed through his mind, weak and meek, frail and paper-thin. His mind always sought for his wife’s touch, so even in her weakest moments, she could find him. Her words, though, sent him moving swiftly. His rifle was slung over his shoulder, rattling against his back as he sprinted through the cavern.
The faeish creatures grasped after him, reaching for him, fighting to bring him into a conflict. The things were never very smart. It had been a long time since he had found any of them threatening. A long time since he had an inkling of doubt about their strength. Now, though, they were mere specks of dust, floating in the cavern’s hot, still air as he rushed past them to the mouth of the cave, where he found her, huddled against herself, bleeding from every inch of her trembling frame. He dropped everything and fell to his knees at her side.
“I am right here. I am right here, hold on. What happened? Here.” He lifted his wrist to his hand and bit into his flesh. Thick blood oozed through the wound as he held it to her lips. “Here. Take. You need your strength. Talk later.”
<Trinity> Just hold on. He’ll be there.
Just hold on.
Clutching her abdomen, she pressed her forehead to the warm rock, uncaring that it was covered in blood. It wouldn’t have made a difference - her vibrant blonde curls had been bathed crimson, and she was more than certain that there wasn’t an inch of skin not marred from it. Brushing her tongue across her dry lower lip, she tried to force some moisture into the skin, but she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Every move she made only sapped her energy further, leaving her completely useless. By the time she heard the sound of his boots echoing off of the walls, she was nearly comatose, the poison having seeped completely through her system. From the corner of her eyes, she watched as he slid to his knees at her side, her body relaxing. She knew that she was safe then - his curse, his being - wouldn’t allow anyone near her.
No one was going to hurt her now.
Pressing her hands to the ground, she tried to push herself upright as she felt his hand against her body, the heavy weight searing her flesh. With a cry, she tried to inch away from him, though the movement only added to the pain and caused the world to turn upside down. Through the haze, she could hear his thoughts, the worry - the anger - that gripped him like a demon, urging him to lose control. Yet, despite all of this, his focus was on her. It was always on her. Forcing herself to calm down, she cleared her throat and parted her lips, though her voice refused to work. She could manage nothing more than a croak as his wrist pressed against her mouth, silencing her further. The thought of his blood, the addicting sweetness that he offered her, fueled her into action. Without missing a beat, she sank her fangs into his skin with a soft pop, instantly bathing her tongue with the familiar taste of him. Each pull seemed to renew her strength, and after a few seconds, she was able to lift herself up long enough to collapse into his chest.
Clawing her fingers weakly against his shirt, she dropped her head to his shoulder and closed her eyes, the memories of the attack filling her thoughts. Mora - I told you - wanted us to help. They… they were everywhere. Too much. I did what I could. Frightened, overwhelmed, even shot. I couldn’t… do anymore… they were too strong. He was too strong. He came at me. He brought friends… I tried… I almost died. I would have died. Elizabeth fed me. Just once. Just enough to keep me alive to get… get out…
Re: Broken Wings
Posted: 03 Feb 2016, 04:24
by Aksel
<Aksel> Tenderly, his hand cupped the back of her head as she tucked herself against his chest, fingers caressing her blood-stained curls as she sank into him. He sat in silence a moment, letting her words float through him, listening, comprehending. He let himself drift through the stages of processing the information. Outrage dominated his senses. Absolute rage caused his frame to tremble about her as he clenched his teeth hard enough to cause the enamel to groan under the stress. “Someone else fed you?” His voice finally freed itself from his throat, the question strained.
He clenched his fist and opened his hand, closing his eyes for a brief moment before the onyx orbs looked her over again. “Of course they did… look at you… You wouldn’t have…” he shook his head, still fighting the rage even through the logic. He lifted his knife from his belt and threw it, with all of his strength. It caught one of the things they called ‘Workers,’ square between the eyes. The thing fell in the dust and left them be with its dying throes in the dirt. The action soothed him, his rage more manageable as he pushed his hand through her hair again. “You made it out.” He said quietly, his hand moving to her chin, lifting her gaze to his own.
“I fought one of these groups. They were no push-overs, Trinity. They were tough, and they were experienced. Two things you are not… I am… I am very proud of you. For making it out.” He leaned down, pushing his lips to hers as he fought the urge to yank her hair with his next words. Instead, he pulled back, eyes hard as stone as he glared down into her pain filled stare. “You will not step foot into another fight like that, Trinity. Not until you have prepared yourself better. I will prepare you myself if I must, but you will not do it before. Do you understand?”
<Trinity> She knew that the thought of her feeding on another would destroy him, but she hoped that he would be able to process the reasoning. Without the blood that Elizabeth offered her, she would have never have made it out. However, she hadn’t even breathed Judas’s name, and she could already feel her husband as he tensed and trembled beneath her. His muscles rippled from the strain he was putting into not lashing out, and she closed her eyes once again. She knew she couldn’t lie to him - the guilt would eat her alive - but the thought of how he would react was far more painful than the agony pulsing through her form. I had no choice. There was one left, and we couldn’t find him. They were terrified I would be next. I couldn’t stand up and they couldn’t pull me through. I had to follow, and I needed the blood. She felt as he began to relax, though the pull of his arm and the thud of the blade caused her to whimper, the sound echoing in her mind.
On her better days, she could handle the rage that was bleeding into his mind. She would be able to crawl into his lap, straddle his thighs, and kiss him until their lips bled. Now, however, she could barely stand the feeling of her hair brushing her face, nevertheless the thought of his skin against hers. She knew, though, that she had no choice. Once he calmed down, he would smell Judas on her clothing, and she knew that it would be far worse for her then. Leaning heavily into the kiss - hoping it would distract him - she pressed her hand weakly against his chest and pushed her thoughts into his mind again.
I know. I won’t. I won’t do this again, unless I have to. I can’t handle it. I can’t handle the pain, the agony. I was not built for fighting. I don’t feel accomplished. I watched a woman lose her husband… I watched him die in front of me, and I heard her screaming in my mind. I heard her thoughts, her desperation. It was too much. I can’t get it out of my head. She tried to help me, despite knowing her husband was gone. Knowing that he was gone, she still protected me. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve her help, because I only hindered them. So… I… I went to… I went to Judas for the rest. The moment the words left her mind, she clenched her eyes closed tight, the force causing her head to throb as she kept her mind intertwined with his, her body braced for whatever was to come.
<Aksel> It was already a struggle won, the tide ebbing aside, slowly fading until she took a sledgehammer and smashed through the gates, bursting the dam. It took every ounce of his effort to keep from throwing her from his form, to refrain from crushing her in his grasp as the flood of possessive envy rolled over him and pulled him under. He was losing himself in a riptide of rage.
In a desperate moment of restraint, he lifted his arm, fangs sinking sharply into the flesh until they hit bone with a sharp thunk. If it hurt, it didn’t show on his face. Blood seeped from the wound in his arm, but he didn’t dare taste it, letting it drip to the floor in a slow rivulet as he clenched his fist, the tendons scraping against the foreign fangs in his arm as his fingers closed about one another. She fed on another man. Someone else.
Someone better than you, for certain.
He clenched his eyes shut, shaking the voice from his head as he took a sharp, quick breath through his nose. In the moment, he had managed to keep himself from crashing into her with his fury. Her fear, her agony had twisted him aside, the ravaging storm that tore him apart from the inside out was deflected from her person. For that much, he was thankful. She wouldn’t have survived his wrath.
Instead, he took another slow breath. Then another. And another. Until finally the trembling subsided and he felt strong enough to pull his fangs from his arm. Blood oozed from the bite, his jaw sore from the ferocity of the mutilation. The flesh all but torn from his forearm bled freely from a large, ring-shaped bite as his eyes turned to her again.
“You did what you had to do to survive… to find your way back to me.”
She wanted it. She wanted to touch him. To taste him.
“If I had to choose this, or your death…”
You would have let her die.
“You made the right decision.”
<Trinity> She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. With a sharp cry, she curled her fingers around his arm and weakly tried to pull him free, though in her state - she was useless. Stop! Please, stop! The words rushed through his mind, the scream only seeming to weaken her more. Without a care for the state of her own form, she tried to push herself upright, the pain cascading through her senses. She couldn’t see straight, and as her stomach rolled, she wasn’t certain she would be able to do anything at all to help him. She could feel the rage rolling off of him, the jealousy - the voice in his mind. Shut up, you little *****. Just shut up. You know nothing.
Grabbing his wrist, she dropped it into her lap and bent down, her tongue tracing over the wounds. The blood caused her to moan, and she quickly shook her head as she finished cleaning the wound before turning her pain filled, glazed gaze to his. I had to, but that doesn’t mean a thing. I love you. She knew it wouldn’t matter, there was nothing she could do or say to him that would change his mind. He was as he was, and she loved him for it. The torture. The pain. The punishment - the care and the love. It was everything. He was everything.
Adjusting her form on his lap, she wound her arms around his neck and coughed, the blood burning the back of her throat. She could feel the weakness in her body, her bones threatening to break as she moved her arm to his shoulders. It screamed out in protest, the gleaming bone becoming covered in blood as a shard punctured her skin. She wasn’t going to last here, not in the open. Eyes were on them, their thoughts filling her mind, worried and in need to protect her. A man stepped towards them, hand on his blade, and his eyes on her husband. She could hear his thoughts, hear his concern as he felt the rage pulse from him. Need to.. to go home. Take me home. She would endure whatever he wanted there. It didn’t matter - none of it mattered. She would withstand it all.
Sometimes, things are just too hard.
He found it difficult to find himself through the red haze of rage. His thoughts eluded him, dancing just out of his grasp each time he thought he had a grip on something he could focus on. All that he could feel, all that he could really see was the fog. A red so deep, so rich, that he felt like he was drowning in it. Blood, dark and sweet and sharp. It filled his eyes to a singular point, the outrage of it all a white hot pain in his veins.
Head pounding, he tried to shake loose the rational thought he knew that was there. There was some good to this, he knew it. He simply couldn’t find it in that thick mist.
She knew what she was doing. She knew what it would do to you, too. She just didn’t care, you pathetic fool. Did you honestly believe that you had found happiness here? Did you really think you could find anything, anyone to truly love you after what you’ve done?
You’re damaged goods.
You’re a ******* monster.
The voice in his head laughed at him, mocking him. She knew the weight his soul had carried for what felt like a lifetime. She knew the way he was crushed beneath it, back too weak to carry on any more. Surely, the blood that he had spilled, the pain that he endured… surely it all had to mean something. It was too painful to think that, after all of the agony he had placed upon himself, the torture, the wracking pains that he had afflicted himself with, that he had yet to even begin to atone for his sins.
He knew, though. He knew that it was true. He knew that this gift that had been given to him, this eternal life that Reanna had bestowed upon him, was the true means by which he was meant to atone for his wrongs, the path that he was meant to walk for the rest of his time upon the earth. The stamina, the endurance that he was given, the longevity of his sentence… it was all meant to seek his penance. An eternity of damnation, forever meant to feel the agony of his failures, the sharp lash of his carelessness and foolishness.
What you did will never be forgiven.
He knew, in his heart, that taking the woman in his grasp as a wife had been a monumental affront to the spirit that plagued him. He merely could not find it in him to atone for that sin. His hand lifted to her face as she plead for home. Safety. Sanctuary. A place where her mind could be her own, where she wouldn’t suffer the thoughts of a thousand strangers all around them.
She was so weak, so broken. If she hadn’t received the gift, as he had, then she would have died before they had made it from the mouth of the cavern. Fortune had smiled on them, however, the night that Trinity had met Tate, her eternal sire. She would survive, if only just. She had fed from his blood, gaining some of her strength in the exchange for the blissful agony that had spread through his arm. She would make the journey.
Gently, with tremendous care, he lifted the soft, broken form of the mate of his soul, and cradled her soft, malleable figure to his frame. He closed his eyes and concentrated his will into his limbs, the power of his gift surging through him with a crack of intensity. In an instant, the two of them disappeared from the place that they stood. Even carrying her weight, he moved with blinding speed, faster than any eyes might have hoped to follow. Before she could draw breath, he was sliding her limp frame into a soft bed of silk, her blood washing over the black sheets.
“We are home. You are safe… rest here, and we will talk.”
The run had soothed the beast inside of him. The expenditure of his energy had pacified the need to exert himself, to tear something apart. He took a long, slow breath and moved to sit at her side, the bed dipping only lightly beneath his light weight.
“Explain to me what exactly it was that you were doing, Trinity. Who were these people you were fighting? Who were you helping? What was going through your head, putting yourself into a battlefield like that? You are as untrained as they might come… you were so unprepared… if you had just told me that you wished to fight, I might have helped you, you know.” He sighed, and placed a gentle hand on her abdomen. His onyx stare moved over her soft, bruised face.
She did it to hurt you.
She did it to drive you mad.
Kill her.
Kill her!
Re: Broken Wings
Posted: 03 Feb 2016, 05:31
by Trinity
The shadows that slowly into his eyes sent a chill down her spine. It spread like oil through his obsidian gaze, causing the glint in them to become something sinister and frightening. She had seen that look so many times before, and yet, she always found herself more terrified than the last. She wished she could reassure herself with the knowledge that he wouldn’t hurt her, but the thoughts that swirled like a storm in his mind told her otherwise. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he coiled his arms around her like a vice as he stood easily to his feet. The need to break something - to break her - pulsed off him in waves so thick, it nearly suffocated her. Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers into the black of his shirt, her pale skin seeming far too bright against the darkness that was her husband. He was so broken, so twisted, that no one could understand what someone like her would be doing consumed in his madness.
They hadn’t a clue how screwed up she really was.
Tipping her head back, she tried to ignore the way her body jolted with each step he took. She could tell by the way the wind whipped her bloody curls about her face that he was moving far too fast for anyone to see them, and yet, she still worried. How could she not? If someone were to stop him in this state, there would be no saving them from his wrath. He had an oath, but she knew that it only went so far. She was his outlet, her body his tool, but if someone crossed his path before he sank his claws into her flesh, they would suffer. Shifting in his hold, she lifted her fingers to brush them over his jaw, her features serene despite the tension coiling in the pit of her stomach. She could hear that maddening voice in his mind, the words that she spewed like venom corrupting his already weakened state. There was no way that she could battle the woman that haunted him, and yet, she found herself wishing she could reach into the very core of his soul and rip her from him.
If I could save you, I would.
She was careful not to project her thoughts as she slowly loosened her hold, the voices from the outside dulling the moment he shut the door to their apartment. Despite all of the sinful, sinister sides to him - she could never forget the care he had taken to their home. He had spent weeks ensuring that the walls were thick enough to protect her from the outside world. The voices that once haunted her every waking moment had vanished, and in this haven, she had almost complete silence. It was only his voice - and that of her sister - that penetrated her thoughts, and those were the two that she could stomach. As her back rested against the silk sheets, she carefully shifted to her side of the bed as her hand brushed down his back. The tension hadn’t eased - in fact, it seemed far worse.
Before she had a chance to speak, his words hit her like a freight train, one right after the next. The questions came far too rapidly, and she couldn’t help but notice that his lips spoke something polar opposite to what was on his mind. She could hear the things he wanted to do to her, the way he wanted to twist and break her. If she hadn’t been at the edge of her tolerance, there would be nothing to save her from his abuse. As twisted as it was, she wished she could handle it. She wanted to feel him unleash, to know that he was going to make it through another night. The monster inside of him, the need to hurt her, fed the beast that lurked in her soul. Just as he sought to atone for his sins, she needed to feel redeemed for the chaos she had caused. They were fucked up, and they were perfect.
Pulling her mind from the thoughts that spun out of control, she tried to grasp onto the one singular problem. The fight. Clearing her throat, she rested her head back against her pillow, admiring the way it sunk to fit her skull perfectly. “I was helping the family,” she began, her voice strained as her throat worked to get the words past. For some reason, it felt as if this situation called for her to actually speak. He was one of the few that heard her voice, and she knew that it soothed him, that there was something almost solely for him. Running her tongue over her bloodied lip, she dropped her hand to his and curled her fingers around his wrist, bringing his touch to her chest as she continued. “I don’t know who they were, and I don’t really know why we were there. I didn’t think it would be that bad. I’m strong, you know that. I thought I could handle it. I handle you, don’t I?” Her laugh was rough as her eyes closed, and she went quiet for just a few seconds before sighing weakly.
“You weren’t here, babe. You were out doing whatever it is you do, and I needed something. I was going insane. It was like I was coming out of my skin, so I offered to go. I should have told you, and I’m sorry. I know it pisses you off when I don’t tell you what I’m doing. I figured you wouldn’t let me go, so I just… went.” She cringed as she said the last few words, knowing that she was about to push him closer to that edge he was trying so valiantly to balance on. Focus on me. I’m here, I’m real. She isn’t.
Re: Broken Wings
Posted: 27 Feb 2016, 07:03
by Aksel
You just don’t know… you just don’t know…
You can’t know. You don’t live with this like I have to.
He shook his head, his hand passing down the length of her cheek. The flesh was soft, tender, bruised. He almost couldn’t stand to look at her, knowing that the people that did this to her were still out there, still on the streets somewhere, and he was powerless to do anything about it. If she didn’t know, then maybe, just maybe, some of this family she spoke of would know where to find them, would know who they were. They could possibly point him in the right direction.
He was a weapon, a lethal piece of machinery, a tool of torture, a device designed entirely around a singular art; killing in the most painful and horrible way possible. He would make these insects pay. They had no idea the kind of righteous fire they had called down upon themselves. He turned his eyes to his hands. Without someone to point him in the right direction, without someone to actually aim the weapon, he was useless. The power in those pale, murderous hands was useless. He was just…
Useless.
She hurts you, and you let her. She did this, just to hurt you. I told you to kill her.
You should kill her.
Kill her, Aksel.
Kill her, before she kills you, you worthless piece of ****. You don’t deserve her, anyway.
You don’t deserve happiness. Not with her, not with anyone.
This will all turn to ashes around you, and the one to burn it all down?
It’s going to be you, you crazy asshole.
**** you.
Bring me back. Let me do it. I’ll kill her for you, and then I’ll kill you, too.
Just bring me back and I’ll do it. You don’t deserve life. Not that you’re wasting it on happiness now.
You don’t get to get away with this. **** you.
**** you **** you **** you.
“Svala.” he muttered in pain, pushing the heel of his palm against his temple as he fought to push aside the pain. It made his eyes shut tight in agony as he tried to shake the pain, his head turning this way and that before his squinted, onyx gaze turned to Trinity again. He grit his teeth in an awkward, pained smile. “She is only seeing that I get what I deserve. What’s important right now is you, not me and my problem. Just tell me what you need. I will do what I can to help you, but I’m afraid the most I can do is help keep your blood in you. Even that, I’m fairly limited with. It’s something, though. Better than doing nothing and watching you just… this.”
He shook his head and placed his hand on her arm, squeezing her tenderly, carefully. She was so beaten, so broken that he couldn’t possibly know where he could touch her, where he could hold her. He was delicate with her, his fingertips only barely touching her as he moved closer to her. “This isn’t the kind of pain you deserve. This is something entirely different; a malice, a blackness, an unholy taint settles on this pain, it is far from the power of healing through agony that I put you through. You should know the difference by now.”
He leaned down, brushing his lips over the flaccid curls plastered against her forehead as his hand moved to her chest, his palm resting over the place where her heart should beat. He closed his eyes, lips against her pallid flesh as he concentrated on her, on pushing his essence into her, filling her, gathering her strength. He could feel the power as it coursed through her, like a bolstering of her own blood, a strengthening of her weak and broken body. He could only hope that the sustenance was enough to help her body in its healing. “I should have been there.” he muttered, shaking his head and falling into a sullen silence as he watched her body closely for signs of taking to the blood, in knitting itself back into health.
This will work. It must.
This nonsense magical ******** isn’t going to do a thing, and you know it.
Kill her now, and get it over with. Put her out of her misery.
Re: Broken Wings
Posted: 16 Mar 2016, 11:28
by Trinity
The feminine voice in his head was so loud, so insistent, that she wondered when he would finally cave. What would be his breaking point? How much of the torture could he withstand before he lashed out, just to end it? She wasn’t a fool. She knew that his grip on sanity was as frail as hers, and still, she stayed at his side. The thought of leaving him hurt her far more than anything he could put her through. Her touch was weak as she brushed her fingers through his hair, before trailing them down the side of his face. The torture in his eyes tore at her heart, and she barely felt her own physical pain at the torment marring his handsome features. “Focus on me,” she whispered, though her voice trembled as she began to succumb to her wounds.
Slipping further against their pillows, she closed her eyes as she listened to his steady voice. The growl in his words was unmistakable, and she knew he was nearing his breaking point. In times like this, she turned to sex. It was violent, bloody, and it gave them both the release that they needed - but she couldn’t offer him that. Not in the state she was in. She would never be able to survive, and they both knew it. Curling her fingers into fists at her side, she clutched their sheets before shaking her head. The darkness was tugging at her mind, and she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to stay conscious much longer. She couldn’t leave him like this, however. The thought of what he would do to himself - to her prone form, to Annabelle - was too much to handle. Forcing her eyes to remain open for a minute longer, she offered him a tender, loving smile.
“You do plenty, baby. The blood you use to sustain me will me alive, and out of that freakish place.” Just tell me how to fix this, she whispered through his mind, though it was unintended. She had only meant to think the thought, but the weakness had taken over, and she had no control over her own powers. As her head fell back against the pillow and her eyes finally closed, she reached out and twisted her cold, trembling fingers through his. I need to rest, just for a bit. Do what you need to do, baby, to quiet the voices in your mind. Just be here when I wake up, please. They both knew what she meant at her request, as much as it killed her, what he had to do was a far better alternative than him hurting himself. With the final whisper of her love for him, she slipped into the shadows of her mind.