A follow up to Friday's scene
Feb. 10th, 2007 11:18 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadowsThe red headed girl lay unconscious on the rough floor around the cave. Around her four figures hunched inside vile smelling robes, crooked hands prodding and poking.
"She ain't going to be the one," an old woman, with red eyes and snow white skin said at length. "I don't know quite what's happened to 'er, but she ain't right no more. Her brain is cracked, and there's something nasty inside her."
A dusky skinned man, with tattered dreadlocks and charcoal covered fingers flinched slightly, and stared down at her above a twitching nose with something that looked a little like regret, but he said nothing. The old woman looked at him and shook her head.
"Sorry, Dozer," she said. "This one's gone. Even when she were sane, she were sellin' us out to the garou, and now..."
She shrugged.
"We'll keep her knocked out for the moment. And maybe her offspring will be the revenge that the bards promised us."
The red headed girl did not hear any of this, for she was lost somewhere inside nightmarish dreams. She did not hear the rustle of cloth on the floor as her gaolers left, and she did not hear the low voice of the one ratkin who remained.
"Sorry, Jules," he said in a low voice, and then "ain't nothing I can do tho."
One of his ears twitched and he looked up sharply.
There was nothing there, but he frowned, looking up above him into the air. His nose twitched again, as he searched for a scent that was not there. He could only smell dirty and a faint overtone of sewage. He could not see anything, but he was sure he had seen a flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes for a moment, maybe a flash of red.
He looked down at Jules again. Her chest continued to rise and fall with a steady pace. There was no sign that she had heard anything. He checked the leather cords that held her in place, checked the positioning of the sharp silver spikes that had been nailed into place around her, so that if she awoke (somehow) and tried to shift form, she would rip her wrists and throat apart on the spikes.
Something was nagging at the corner of Dozer's brain, but he couldn't place it. He could see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing out of the ordinary. He was here, alone with the unconscious body of Juliet Oakley.
Nevertheless, Dozer palmed the switchblade razor he always carried, and ran his thumb over the wickedly sharp blade.
He looked again at Jules. Her face seemed a little softer in sleep, and the corners of her mouth seemed to have curled up slightly, as if the nightmares had eased, and somehow she had fallen into kinder dreams.
Dozer sighed slightly, for a moment and let himself sit back on his heels for a moment and then...
...Dozer screeched in alarm, sending out a cry of warning to every Ratkin in the vicinity. Jules was shifting upwards, her pale skin distorting into the muzzle and sharp teeth of the Ratkin crinos, her fingers sprouting vicious talens. She shouldn't be doing this - not drugged, bespelled, and bound. This shouldn't be happening, and yet it was.
Blood splattered everywhere as the spikes did their work, slicing into the arteries at her wrists, and ripping into the jugular. Dozer screamed again, this time falling towards Jules with his hands outstretched, trying to cover the wounds, stop the blood from falling out.
"Fuck, no, don't die. Stupid girl. Don't die," he chittered as he screeched again for help. "Don't die," he said again, and then swore as the crinos form began to fade away. "Please don't," he said one last time, but it was already too late, and there was only the body of a teenage girl lying on the ground.
Yet something had changed, although Dozer could not have told you what. There was something different about her face, something sweeter in the curve of her lips, and she did not look like one who had died in the thrall of frenzy. Rather, she looked like someone who had been taken away, gently, at the hands of a familiar and trusted friend. She looked like a girl leaving for a long anticipated date.
Dozer sat there, motionless, even when the other Ratkin began to swarm into the room. He shrugged helplessly when he was asked what had happened.
Later that evening, he left the colony and went outside. He stared up at the silver moon and said "that weren't normal, were it?" but no answer came back. It was only in his imagination that he thought he saw a mocking smile in the shape of the clouds as they floated across the moon.
"She ain't going to be the one," an old woman, with red eyes and snow white skin said at length. "I don't know quite what's happened to 'er, but she ain't right no more. Her brain is cracked, and there's something nasty inside her."
A dusky skinned man, with tattered dreadlocks and charcoal covered fingers flinched slightly, and stared down at her above a twitching nose with something that looked a little like regret, but he said nothing. The old woman looked at him and shook her head.
"Sorry, Dozer," she said. "This one's gone. Even when she were sane, she were sellin' us out to the garou, and now..."
She shrugged.
"We'll keep her knocked out for the moment. And maybe her offspring will be the revenge that the bards promised us."
The red headed girl did not hear any of this, for she was lost somewhere inside nightmarish dreams. She did not hear the rustle of cloth on the floor as her gaolers left, and she did not hear the low voice of the one ratkin who remained.
"Sorry, Jules," he said in a low voice, and then "ain't nothing I can do tho."
One of his ears twitched and he looked up sharply.
There was nothing there, but he frowned, looking up above him into the air. His nose twitched again, as he searched for a scent that was not there. He could only smell dirty and a faint overtone of sewage. He could not see anything, but he was sure he had seen a flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes for a moment, maybe a flash of red.
He looked down at Jules again. Her chest continued to rise and fall with a steady pace. There was no sign that she had heard anything. He checked the leather cords that held her in place, checked the positioning of the sharp silver spikes that had been nailed into place around her, so that if she awoke (somehow) and tried to shift form, she would rip her wrists and throat apart on the spikes.
Something was nagging at the corner of Dozer's brain, but he couldn't place it. He could see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing out of the ordinary. He was here, alone with the unconscious body of Juliet Oakley.
Nevertheless, Dozer palmed the switchblade razor he always carried, and ran his thumb over the wickedly sharp blade.
He looked again at Jules. Her face seemed a little softer in sleep, and the corners of her mouth seemed to have curled up slightly, as if the nightmares had eased, and somehow she had fallen into kinder dreams.
Dozer sighed slightly, for a moment and let himself sit back on his heels for a moment and then...
...Dozer screeched in alarm, sending out a cry of warning to every Ratkin in the vicinity. Jules was shifting upwards, her pale skin distorting into the muzzle and sharp teeth of the Ratkin crinos, her fingers sprouting vicious talens. She shouldn't be doing this - not drugged, bespelled, and bound. This shouldn't be happening, and yet it was.
Blood splattered everywhere as the spikes did their work, slicing into the arteries at her wrists, and ripping into the jugular. Dozer screamed again, this time falling towards Jules with his hands outstretched, trying to cover the wounds, stop the blood from falling out.
"Fuck, no, don't die. Stupid girl. Don't die," he chittered as he screeched again for help. "Don't die," he said again, and then swore as the crinos form began to fade away. "Please don't," he said one last time, but it was already too late, and there was only the body of a teenage girl lying on the ground.
Yet something had changed, although Dozer could not have told you what. There was something different about her face, something sweeter in the curve of her lips, and she did not look like one who had died in the thrall of frenzy. Rather, she looked like someone who had been taken away, gently, at the hands of a familiar and trusted friend. She looked like a girl leaving for a long anticipated date.
Dozer sat there, motionless, even when the other Ratkin began to swarm into the room. He shrugged helplessly when he was asked what had happened.
Later that evening, he left the colony and went outside. He stared up at the silver moon and said "that weren't normal, were it?" but no answer came back. It was only in his imagination that he thought he saw a mocking smile in the shape of the clouds as they floated across the moon.
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-10 02:09 pm (UTC)I don't know what I was expecting to happen, but that wasn't it.
Fuck.
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Date: 2007-02-10 04:38 pm (UTC)And so she goes...
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Date: 2007-02-10 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-10 07:06 pm (UTC)I'm happy with that.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-10 11:45 pm (UTC)I was just expecting the way it was left after our scene on Friday to be it, really. Shows what I know...
I know I'll really miss Jules, but I look forward to whatever you're doing next.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-11 12:02 am (UTC)~grins~
Date: 2007-02-11 12:07 am (UTC)I'm quite jealous, by the way. I was reading the Fury tribebook the other day, and I'd forgotten just how broken they can be!
I'm just not entirely sure I could pull one off...
...
Date: 2007-02-12 04:57 pm (UTC)