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Post by starrea on Nov 27, 2020 18:33:30 GMT
No? No? Lincoln hadn't been aware that no was a possible response. The sheer audacity and brazen assertiveness left Lincoln dumbstruck and his hand fell away from the doorknob awkwardly. The idea of picking her up and tossing her out his door had already crossed his mind more than once, but now he balked at the possibility. He was afraid to put his hands on her, not when he was so uncomfortably aware of the precious stones in her pocket. Despite having denied himself for many years, the instinct to acquire priceless riches had roared back to life at the sight of them on his kitchen table. Like a well-trained dog that was powerless against its instincts to chase a squirrel, Lincoln feared what would happen if he fell victim to his impulses. His resistance was stronger than it had ever been and years ago, he probably would have snapped her neck to get his hands on what he desired, but Lincoln wasn't willing to test just how much more he could take. He had a sickening feeling that it wouldn't take much more than a simple brush of her skin to send him careening over the edge.
Her question was just equally as unpredicted as her shameless denial to leave, and Lincoln floundered for words. Even Lincoln, who was woefully socially-inept, could tell that her question implied her desire that she wanted him to care about who she was - but why? It really didn't matter to Lincoln who she was. He already knew her name and based on the high quality fabrics that made up her clothes and the lavish rings, he knew she was some sort of nobility - and that far more than he knew about just about anyone else. It was pointless to learn anything else about her. After she left his swamp, her life would be completely inconsequential to him. Luckily, she didn't seem to expect an answer out of him, which saved Lincoln from the pressure of stringing an intelligent set of words together that wouldn't upset her.
Lincoln eyed Nadia warily as she got up, like she was a wild animal that Lincoln couldn't possibly predict. Her next words wiped the shock clean from his face, replaced by a familiar hard, guarded expression. The very thought of living in the epicenter of civilization, surrounded by countless objects that would send him spiraling into instinctual madness, was repulsive. There was a reason he was living out in the middle of a damn swamp - and it wasn't because he liked the scenery. "I can assure you, I do not have the instincts you are looking for," Lincoln sneered, unless you are looking for someone to snap a man's neck over a shilling he won't be able to hold for more than a second. He had no empathy for her woes of persecution, either. His entire species had been wiped out at the hands of hateful men and maybe that very fact should have made him more sympathetic to her situation, but it didn't. He had no desire to insert himself in the middle of man's violence. Besides, if she really wanted to escape death at the hands of her people, she could always do what he had been forced to do: disappear. If she chose to stay, then she was also choosing the consequences of her own actions.
"As lovely as that offer sounds," It sounded about as lovely as a death sentence, which it what it would turn out to be once the color of his blood was noticed by someone who make the connections, "I'll have to pass. Heroism is not a habit of mine, and I'm sure this experience will fulfill all of my heroic needs for the foreseeable future." He didn't even bother to comment on the fact that the very fact of living in the castle in the capital of an entire kingdom was, by default, less private than his home out here. He bit his tongue, muscles taut with tension as she watched him rummage through his things but he stayed silent. It was already clear that despite the incredible size difference between the two of them, Nadia did as she pleased and Lincoln was powerless to stop her. When she offered him the shirt, he reached out slowly to take it from her, his expression guarded.
He stripped off the remain of his bloody, ripped shirt, tossing it towards the fireplace. There was no saving it, and he could use it later tonight to help get a fire started. He was obviously not uncomfortable with being partially unclothed in front of Nadia, despite his plain apprehension with her being in his home. His chest was a canvas, painted with countless scars and when healed, this stab wound would add to the masterpiece. He didn't waste time and pulled the fresh, clean shirt over his head. The wound protested with his movements, but Lincoln didn't so much as flinch.
The relief was palpable when Nadia finally decided it was time to go, but it was quickly overshadowed by exasperation. He ran a hand through his hand, frustrated, as an internal battle over what to do waged inside of him. "Damnit, I don't know the way to your castle either. Why the hell would I know the way back to the castle?" Lincoln snapped, starting to feel like it was going to be much harder than he initially thought to get rid of this woman. "Won't they see the wreckage on the road and come looking for you? I assume you're important enough that people will notice you're missing," Lincoln asked. Despite the overwhelming urge to just kick the woman out of his home and wish her luck, Lincoln knew that he couldn't do that - which meant that he was going to be stuck with Nadia for a lot longer than he had originally thought.
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Post by Val on Dec 3, 2020 1:14:17 GMT
Coward. The word was on the tip of her tongue, and she had to bite down on it to block the insult from escaping her lips. Maybe he had the instincts, but he was lacking in motivation. There was nothing more unattractive than an ambitionless man too rooted in his ways to take any risk. He was alive, but he was barely living. Was it fear that held him back? Nadia couldn’t make sense of his lifestyle, and that was apparent by the way she was staring at him like he was either an idiot or completely insane.
“I didn’t ask for an answer, I asked you to consider it,” she huffed, the edge of authority inching back into her voice. Frustration broiled hot across Nadia’s skin, causing her cheeks to flush. She hadn’t expected him to jump on the offer, but his ardent rejection was rude and distasteful. He acted as though she had asked him to jump off a cliff. Having yet to gain any ground with him, her face twisted into a disapproving pout, her foot tapping impatiently as he changed shirts.
Nadia’s eyes raked shamelessly across his bare chest, taking in the myriad of scars that formed a layer over his taut muscles. Each one must’ve told a story, and yet he pretended that his entire existence had been spent as a swamp hermit. Her eyes ventured lower, past the ripple of abs and over the waist of his pants, her imagination filling in the blanks of what the rest of him might look like. She couldn’t help but draw comparisons to Alister, who was the opposite of this man in every way she could think of. Where Alister was suave and charming, mystery man was uncivilized and awkward. Where Alister was lean and flawless, mystery man was imposing and damaged. The differences were endless, but they did have one thing in common; Nadia’s attention.
Ogling the man seemed to put Nadia in a better mood, and she finally looked back up at him, unfazed by his exasperation, “All of my men were slaughtered, hence my need for capable protection,” she gave him a pointed look, “I’m not expected to be back until sundown. Unless they’ve stumbled upon the wreckage, no one knows what happened.” Bored over having to explain it to him, Nadia flipped her hair over her shoulders, bent to scoop up her destroyed shoes, and shoved past him.
Without bothering to double check that the boar were gone, she pushed the door open and stepped back out into the muggy wilderness. Everything was now still and quiet, but the evidence of the creatures’ destruction was littered across his meager garden. She didn’t feel bad for him, not after all the generous offers he’d refused. Not bothering to wait, she forged barefoot through the mud and hopped nimbly over a stretch of shallow water, landing on a dry patch of earth. She rounded a ragged looking mangrove tree, but something grabbed her skirts from behind, yanking her backwards and nearly causing her to topple into the water.
A girlish shriek escaped Nadia as she clung to a tree branch to keep herself from plummeting into the bog. When she turned to see what had stopped her, she realized her lengthy skirts had become entangled in the spindly mangrove roots. “Curse you,” she hissed, reaching down to gather the fabric in her hands. She yanked again and again, but the roots had managed to snare several layers of her dress, and her efforts only served to worsen her predicament. “Curse this place!” And curse her tailor. If she intended on ever returning to this hellhole, she would need to add more suitable clothing to her wardrobe.
Feeling flustered and fed up, she finally cast a glance back toward Lincoln. She could imagine how ridiculous she looked in her battle with a tree, sweat beading on her forehead, and hair frizzing even though she had tied it back. For the first time in a long time, she felt embarrassed. Crossing her slender arms, she glowered at Lincoln, debating whether or not to ask him for help. Ultimately, her stubborn side won out, and she bent back over to resume the fight with the cursed mangrove. Her pride could not fathom asking him to save her a third time.
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Post by starrea on Dec 3, 2020 21:11:05 GMT
All Lincoln could do was follow Nadia wordlessly out of his house, stopping on his shabby front porch to watch her try to navigate the swamp. Shock was replaced by smug amusement, and it was his turn to enjoy her obvious discomfort. In the outside world, she was probably some sort of noble woman or royalty, but she wasn't in the outside world anymore. She was in his world, his territory, and horrendously out of her element. If she hadn't taken such obvious pleasure from his discomfort earlier, he probably wouldn't have lent up against one of the pillars supporting his porch, arms crossed over his chest, to enjoy the moment. He wasn't one to usually enjoy the misfortune of others, but this was harmless and just retribution for the way she had treated him earlier. He wordlessly arched an eyebrow when she looked up, just waiting for her to ask him to save her for a third time, but she didn't. He couldn't help but chuckle, deciding that if he didn't save her from the mangrove roots, she would literally be stuck in his front yard for who knew how long. It was alarming how quickly she had gone from being irritating to amusing, and that thought alone was enough to snuff out any of the remaining enjoyment Lincoln got out of her embarrassing struggles.
Lincoln stepped back inside to grab the discarded knife on the kitchen table, the same one that had just been in his arm, and quickly wiped the blood off. By now, most of the blood was dry and black splotches of blood stubbornly stayed on the blade even after Lincoln tried to wipe them clean. He didn't waste much time on it and he walked back outside, through his yard, and navigating the ten or so feet beyond to where Nadia had gotten stuck. At this rate, she would die before she found the road again. He flipped the knife around, extending the handle out towards her, "Here. Cut yourself free. That way, technically, you saved yourself," It was hard to tell it was a joke by how seriously Lincoln spoke, partnered with his always-stoic facial expressions - but it was. It was an easy excuse to cover up the fact that despite the amusing distraction of watching her get stuck in tree roots, he still didn't trust himself to be that close to her.
The air hummed with the drone of insect wings and he glanced around. Bugs didn't bother him, uninterested in his black blood, but they were sure to very interested in Nadia. "Hurry. If you stay still too long, the insects will feast on you," Lincoln advised, leaning back against a nearby tree as he watched her. He didn't know what he was going to do with her. Even with her domineering personality, he couldn't help but notice how much he was enjoying her company. This was the longest conversation he had had with anyone in... years, and now that she was about to leave, he found himself reluctant to let her go. If only she didn't have those cursed gemstones on her, maybe then he would offer her to come back inside to wait until rescue showed up.
It was still early in the day but the sun was already beating down and the swamp was just starting to come alive. "Make sure you look where you step. All the snakes will be coming down to bask in the sun, oh, and the gators, too. And in some areas, the water is deeper than it looks, so try not to fall in but if you do, there are leeches so be careful of that. Have you heard of stinging nettle? Because you're going to want to watch for that. I'm sure you know what poison ivy, poison oak, and poison sumac look like. Even if you have the tiniest cut, you're going to wash it out real good cause everything gets infected out here. And you remember the way back to the road, right?" Lincoln paused, mostly for dramatic effect, before pointing towards the opposite corner of his front yard; "Because the easiest way to the road is that way, but I'm sure you knew that, right?"
Now that Lincoln was more relaxed, the words flowed out of him smoothly and unencumbered with a sense of confidence that hadn't been there before. It was almost enough to make him forget about the precious jewels, mere inches away from him, tucked into her pockets. Their presence, even out of sight, was a constant nuisance and a constant reminder as to why he couldn't keep her here and why he would never be able to integrate into her society. He reminded himself that she was temporary and even if she didn't leave right now, she would soon be out of his life for good.
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Post by Val on Dec 11, 2020 5:24:55 GMT
By the time her muscles were burning from yanking on the tangled fabric of her dress, Lincoln had finally appeared diligently at her side with a knife in hand. She glared daggers at him, warning him not to push his luck with the shitty, dry jokes. If anything, relying on his help and simultaneously having to cut herself free was the worst-case scenario. She considered ordering him to bend down and do it for her- another power play, no doubt- but she bit her tongue. Most of the men she knew would have doubted her ability to accomplish the task and rectified the situation themselves whether she liked it or not. Then again, this man was not like anyone she knew, and his way of handling her pathetic predicament was just as inexplicable as he was.
Snatching the knife out of his hand, she returned her focus to the problem at hand. With a white-knuckled grip on the hilt, she stabbed the knife through the layers of silky fabric that made up her skirts and began to saw through the unnecessary length of the dress. Nadia made a point of cutting it shorter than necessary, tearing the fabric a few inches above the knee so that her smooth olive skin was exposed to the eye and – unfortunately- to the swarming bugs. Once she completed the circle and effectively removed over a foot of fabric from the bottom of her dress, she stepped out of the remains and let the emerald green silk fall amidst the muddy roots of the mangrove. With an exasperated huff, she drew her arm back and planted the blade into the trunk of the tree with surprising force, punishing the tree for her misfortunes.
Nadia had listened to his lengthy string of warnings but didn’t acknowledge them until she was free of the entrapment. Now, she rounded on him, eyeing the man like he was the strangest creature she’d ever laid eyes on. She could barely get two words out of the guy when she was interrogating him, and now he was nonstop chattering like a neglected child that finally had someone that was willing to listen to him, “For a man with no protective instincts, you sure do care about my safety,” she pointed out, a hint of smugness returning to her voice, as though she knew she’d been right about him all along.
“Anyway, you’re too late. The insects are having their feast,” she emphasized her point with a slap to her knee, squashing one of the pesky bugs. It was then that she noticed the absolute lack of insects buzzing in his general vicinity. She narrowed her eyes, both jealous and suspicious of the oddity. If the bugs were so averse to him- or whatever he was- then why was she so drawn to him? A familiar shiver of intrigue crawled along her spine, reigniting the need to know more.
Leaving behind her tattered scraps of clothing and broken shoes, Nadia turned in the direction he pointed, feeling like a filthy, vagabond swamp dweller by now. It had been fun and adventurous at first, but now she was beginning to feel the physical effects of being exposed to the elements and her discomfort was painfully evident even though she tried to conceal it.
Instead of fighting for control over the situation, Nadia raised a brow at him expectantly, “Well? Lead the way, boy scout,” she jeered, far more comfortable with giving orders than taking direct action. Nadia knew how to pick her battles, and she was not about to combat his territory on her own out of childish stubbornness. Standing tall once again, the only lingering sign of Nadia’s unease was the way she subtly hugged her arms around herself, trying to create a shield between herself and the merciless environment, “Unless you’re having second thoughts about getting rid of me.” Nadia eyed him pointedly, sensing the shift in his mood like it was a tangible thing she could reach out and touch.
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Post by starrea on Dec 13, 2020 3:25:27 GMT
Lincoln’s amusement was short-lived; as soon as Nadia opened her mouth, her domineering assertiveness sent any sense of security and ease scattering. It was easy to forget that Nadia wasn’t dangerous, with having to saw half her dress off to free herself from swamp foliage and all, but she was quick to remind him. Bitterness seized him, resurrecting the paranoid look in his eye as he took a step back, needing the physical reminder to keep his distance. It was hard not to enjoy the company of a woman, even for someone as solitary as Lincoln, and he would be a fool to try to lie to himself about such. However, he told himself, it was not Nadia that he enjoyed. It was company he was unknowingly craving, another unintended layer of agony attributed by his curse that would forever prevent fulfilling that need, but not Nadia. She wasn’t special, and he needed to fall back into his mindless routine before he gave into temptations he thought he had eliminated long ago.
“I don’t want you dying so close to my home,” Lincoln snapped, defensive as he narrowed his eyes at her, “You’re bound to attract creatures even more troublesome than you,” He couldn’t care less about what she thought of him, but he needed hear himself deny her ludicrous claim. It didn’t matter that it didn’t feel entirely truthful; Lincoln had mastered the art of lying to himself. As much as the allure of something new and exotic stirred up long-dead feelings akin to hopefulness, he couldn’t ignore the reality of his situation. Even worse, he didn’t like that he had shed his caution, and it reaffirmed what he already believed – Nadia was nothing but trouble.
If Lincoln had any thoughts about her outburst, he kept them to himself. It was hardly his place to judge, not when his first trip into the swamp had been just about as fortunate as hers. The swamp was a deceptively difficult terrain to exist in, and back then, he had been too cocky and too stupid for his own good. He wordlessly raised an eyebrow, looking between her and the knife, before he stepped forward and yanked it out of the tree. He glanced down at the tangled remained of her dress, suppressing an irritated sigh at the thought of having to come out later to untangle the remains of the fabric.
Despite having retained this cursed form for many, many years, there were still aspects of human culture and language that alluded Lincoln. He knew what both ‘boy’ and ‘scout’ meant, but from the way she spoke, he inferred that she meant it as an insult. His expression darkened, “I am not having second thoughts. It’s pointless for me to accompany you when I do not know the way. The way back to the road is that way,” Lincoln gestured to the path near the other side of the small clearing that was his front yard, “Pay attention to the path, try not to lose it. You’ll find the road, it isn’t far.” He huffed, no longer willing to play trail guide for her. He needed to center himself, needed to establish control over himself and remind himself of the reality of his life. “You can wait on the road, or I am sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to play hero,” Lincoln added dryly before abruptly turning, stomping back in the direction of his cabin.
“Don’t come back. Next time, there will be no one here to save you,” Lincoln called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back as he escaped into his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. |
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Post by Val on Dec 30, 2020 3:47:13 GMT
Dumbfounded, Nadia stared at the door that Lincoln had disappeared behind, replaying the scene of him storming off over and over in her mind. Realizing her jaw had literally dropped, her shock slowly morphed into indignance over the reaction he’d managed to get out of her. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had turned their back on her, and she despised the familiar feeling of powerlessness that the gesture invoked. Nadia felt the irresistible urge to threaten him bubble up inside of her; he had no idea who he was dealing with, and she suddenly wanted to show him.
With no soldiers at her disposal or Alister to command her wishes to come true, she was left standing alone and vulnerable in the middle of the godforsaken swamp. She couldn’t raid his home, or bust down the door and drag him out, or compel him to help her with anything more than her words. But she could make his life a living hell. Without thinking it through, Nadia bent down and snatched a pebble up from the ground. She rolled it in her palm, clutched it in her fist and drew her arm back. With a huff and an awkwardly untrained throw, she lobbed the rock at his house. Out of pure luck, the pebble managed to hit one of his shabby windows, leaving behind a small crack in the glass.
“This was not our deal!” she shouted, stomping her foot into the mud for added effect like a petulant child. Nadia was well aware that they had never come to any specific terms of agreement, but in her mind, he had fully agreed to guide her home to the best of his abilities. Any real gentleman would do so; even Brogan, the lowly criminal, had enough decency to lead her to the castle walls. But this man…this entity treated her as nothing more than a stray dog. She hadn’t realized how potent her need for respect was, but now that she’d had acquired a taste during her short bout as Queen-to-be, she demanded more.
“Unless you want the mangled body of a Queen laying on your doorstep, I suggest you come back outside and kindly escort me home,” Nadia continued, pointedly dropping her title in case he hadn’t figured it out yet. She kept her voice loud, as though egging on the creatures that inevitably lurked nearby. Her fearlessness was poignant, and it was clear that she was willing to literally throw herself to the boar in order to get her way. “You can keep your distance. You can walk in silence. I don’t care. But you will accompany me home.”
Nadia slapped her skin where a mosquito had landed, the sound just as sharp as her words. As much as her blood was boiling over the situation, she felt more alive than she had in the past month. She thrived upon conflict. Her first interaction with Alister had ended with her slapping him across his pretty face. Now that their relationship was comfortable and secure, she found herself enthralled by this newest individual that could manage to ignite her veins all over again. She could sense that Lincoln did not share her sentiments toward conflict, but that made their feud all the more interesting.
Having said her peace, Nadia remained planted in the very spot that Lincoln has left her, moving subtly in place to keep the bugs from feasting on her. Her eyes remained glued to the door as she imagined how frustrated he must have been within the walls of his shack. Perhaps he was wishing he had allowed her to be kidnapped by the bandits, or worse. Still, as much as he made a show of wanting to be rid of her altogether, Nadia couldn’t shake the feeling that he was grateful for the intrusion. She was convinced that even the enigma that was Lincoln longed for company and a break from the utter monotony of life, and Nadia was anything but monotonous.
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Post by starrea on Jan 5, 2021 5:13:12 GMT
There was barely a moment of peace before a resounding crack echoed through his shack, and Lincoln stared at the new cracks webbing across his window, dumbstruck. The act was almost too brazen to comprehend; had she just thrown a rock at his window – after he had saved her life? He was starting to understand why humans were such an inherently cruel species. If chivalry wasn’t already dead, Lincoln would personally kill any last remaining remnants of it. The indignation was astounding, and he was bombarded with unflattering memories of himself, years ago, when he had been just as entitled as her. The unwelcome memories only blended into the flurry of emotions that pulsed through his veins and he clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling to manage the excess of energy he felt charged with. Somewhere, he recognized that she was trying to get a reaction out of him. She was in way over her head, playing a game she didn't even know was dangerous and he needed to disengage with her. But he couldn't resist, not when she was slowly chipping away at his self-restraint.
Lincoln’s senses sharpened, lifting out of the fog of monotony that he had lost himself in. He hadn’t even realized how muted the colors of the world had been until they deepened into richer shades, adding vibrance he hadn’t known possible to the dreary color schemes of swamp life. Sounds started to separate themselves instead of blending into general background noise, and he listened as two birds chirped back and forth. He hadn’t realized how starved he had been for true interaction until Nadia had barged into his life and now, he didn’t want to let her go.
Any and all remaining self-restraint Lincoln had was washed away with Nadia’s casual revelation of her royal status. Prior to his curse, Lincoln had cared little about human politics. Even after his tragic transformation, he had religiously avoided all types of nobility, having been far too unhinged to control himself around the riches that came with wealth. Curiously, as Nadia stood in his front yard, Lincoln found that it wasn’t solely her precious stones that were triggering his desires. Her title of royalty resonated with the beast in him but her soft, exotic features and the potential for companionship made the man in him weak.
He couldn’t resist her pull. She was a flame, and he was a moth, hypnotized by her light even as he burned. "Queen, huh?" Lincoln drawled as he stepped out, giving her a long look before he leaned up against the door frame. He was much calmer now, almost unsettlingly so. "Look around you," He gestured to the uninhabited swamp with a sweep of his hand, "You're in the swamp. Nothing out here gives a shit about what you are.” His stare was unwavering, pinning her beneath the truth of his words. His tone had a bite to it, just a hint that gave the impression that he had meant to be every bit as insulting as he was. He didn’t give her the chance to dwell on his insult for too long, and the next time he spoke, his tone was lacking the edge it had before. “Out here, we’re nobodies. Just people trying to survive. Nothing more and nothing less."
Using absolute authority was not the way to get Lincoln to cooperate. By nature, dragons only yielded when forced. If anything, it furthered his resolve to remain in the sanctuary of his swamp. The idea of walking into civilization was already about as appealing as facing off that hoard of wild boar, but any lingering guilt he had over abandoning her went up in smoke. She had no right and no authority to order him around here out.
"I showed you the path to the road. I would assume that someone fit to rule a kingdom can navigate a path, right?" The taunt was mean, and Lincoln wasn’t entirely sure why he was riling her up. She had wanted his attention, right? Well, now she had it. "Stop screaming in my front yard. If you don’t want to walk home alone, wait until you’re cavalry shows up. They’ll find the carnage eventually," Lincoln said with a casual shrug. He didn’t even bother to address the fact that he had never promised to walk her home, but he was making it crystal clear that the chances of that happening were slim to none.
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Post by Val on Jan 23, 2021 0:37:57 GMT
Nadia held her breath as Lincoln sauntered out of the house, sensing a shift in the air now that her status had been revealed. She mirrored him, relaxing her clenched fists and loosening her shoulders, though her eyes remained a smoldering reminder that she was not pleased with his behavior. As he spoke, she glanced around at their surroundings, as though considering his pathetic world view. Her eyes landed on a frog that was seated atop an overturned rock, its throat expanding and contracting rhythmically while its glassy eyes stared out at nothing in particular. Perhaps Lincoln was content with equating himself with the lowly swamp creatures, but she was not.
“I will never be a nobody,” she responded coldly. Nadia knew what it was like to be a nobody; no possessions, no identity, no autonomy, and no sense of self. Her past life as a handmaiden had been empty and void of meaning. She had excelled at the position, so much so that she had been assigned to work under princess Yasmin, but she had become an empty shell of herself. The façade was always destined to be broken, and now that she had shattered her old self into a million pieces, she refused to go back to a life of nothingness.
Nadia continued to study him closely, realizing that he had interpreted her outburst as a swap of power between them. He was almost…smug. His demeaning comments rolled over her like a mere breeze. Now that she had his attention, she had lost the fiery indignance from before. Instead, she regarded him with an almost Medusa-like stare, as though a simple look would turn him to stone. As nonchalant as he was struggling to come across, Nadia knew that she had managed to sink her claws in. The change in him from the moment they met to now was as clear as day; he was just as enraptured as she was- perhaps even more so. Every attempt he made to appear indifferent would be futile because she knew that he was hooked.
Slowly and deliberately, she raised a hand and pointed directly at the dirt in front of her with her index and middle fingers. “Mark my words,” she paused, making sure she had his full attention, “One day, you will kneel before me. You will kiss my hand and you will call me your Queen,” she promised. Her words left no room for objection, like she was a prophet declaring his destiny, “Until then, I bid you farewell, sir,” she sneered, irritatingly uninformed of his name.
Without another word, she turned on her heel, flipped her hair over her shoulders and strode in the direction she had come from as though she’d known the path all along. Nadia didn’t dare look back. She stormed through the swamp with the energy of one of the enraged boar. Her bare feet splashed through shallow puddles and her tattered dress billowed out behind her as a reminder of the hell she’d been through that day. By the time she reached the tree line that would deposit her back out onto the road, she was drenched in sweat and as filthy as the swamp dweller that had saved her life.
Nadia stepped out of the forest cover and onto the side of the road, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the blaring sun. It was mid afternoon by now and there were no signs of rescue yet. Anger boiled inside her over the incompetence of her royal guard, but with no one to take it out on, she begrudgingly returned to the scene of the crime. Her overturned carriage remained sprawled across the road, along with the bloodied bodies of the bandits that had dared to attack her and faced the wrath of her mysterious savior. Feeling lost and alone, but unwilling to cry over it, Nadia stepped around the corpses and crawled on top of the toppled carriage, sitting on the edge of the vehicle with her feet dangling over the side. She leaned forward with her chin in her palm and glowered down the road in the direction of Raevaryn castle, awaiting rescue and the poor soul that would have to deal with her sour mood.
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Post by Elvander on Jan 25, 2021 23:39:10 GMT
Talion felt hollow. Like a shell of a person, held together by skin and bone and blood. But inside, he was nothing, a captive thing floating around inside the walls of his own body, always bound by filaments of hot rage that burned like molten gold inlaid in between the cracks of fine vases and pots. He hadn't seen Blythe in months, and Bram was as unhinged as ever, running amok and wrecking havoc with his illusions. Something would have to be done about him. But Blythe loved him... and Talion couldn't bring himself to harm Blythe in any way. Not that it mattered- his affection for her had gone unnoticed and unreciprocated. Not that he felt sorry for himself- he just felt... loss. But it was for the best, Talion reflected. He hadn't had a woman since his wife had passed, and he didn't need that attachment again. It was important to focus on his duties. And as the day would have it, Talion had been ordered to track down Nadia, the King's newest fling. She'd left the palace in a horse drawn carriage with a small entourage to keep her safe. But the hours had whittled by and none had returned. Talion knew enough to suspect foul play. But he didn't need a small army to deal with whatever it was- he was ready to unleash his inner demon if need be. He almost ached for the numbness of that release, that feeling of being so blissfully out of control of himself.
He paced along atop his horse, his red fox trotting behind them. It wasn't long before he came across the chaotic scene and the overturned carriage. He pulled up short, taking it all in. The bodies, the wreckage, and Nadia, all alone, atop it all. Had she done this? Was she... like him? No, it couldn't be. Most likely she'd come across someone who had helped her and left her, which was a miracle with the sorts of men in these parts. Talion drew up alongside the girl, gazing at her with pity. "My lady, I apologize sincerely. Are you harmed?"
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Post by Val on Mar 8, 2021 3:16:33 GMT
Each second that passed was more time for Nadia’s mood to plummet toward the depths of hell. The afternoon sun was unbearably hot, she was filthy from her trek through the swamp, and the bloody corpses that surrounded her were beginning to reek of death. And to top it all off, she couldn’t expel the infuriating stranger from her thoughts. More than once, she’d felt inclined to storm back to his shack and pick up where they left off, but her pride was far too rampant. Instead, she remained stationed atop the overturned carriage, allowing her anger to reach a boiling point.
Finally, like a mirage appearing in the distance, her rescue party appeared in the form of one familiar soldier. She stared Talion down as he approached, her gaze cold and calculated as though she was planning out how she was going to tear him to pieces. Just a few short months ago, she could recall confiding in Talion at one of her lowest points. Compared to the nobility that had looked down at her in disgust, she had found Talion to be approachable, despite his dangerous reputation. In a castle full of strangers, she had considered him a friend. But that felt like a lifetime ago. Things had changed and Nadia had evolved from the sniffling little slave girl that had fallen for a king. Now, she had the king- but that wasn’t enough.
Talion’s pitiful look was met with outright hostility- a warning for him to tread carefully. Nadia was already embarrassed over her frazzled appearance and tragic predicament, and the last thing she needed was a man to attempt to coddle her. She could sense that Talion was likely among the people that didn’t respect her as a queen. Even the way he addressed her- my lady- was evidence of that fact. Perhaps her title was not yet official, but her delicate hand boasted a dazzling engagement ring from Alister. If that wasn’t proof enough of her impending royal status, then she would have to demand respect in other ways. Fortunately, her sharp tongue and brazen wit were proving to be just as valuable as her untouchable status as Alister’s precious wife to be.
“Tell me, Talion,” she began, ignoring his question completely, “Who is responsible for the soldiers who escorted me today?” she questioned, her tone laced with disrespect for the men who had been slaughtered by a couple of lowly highway bandits. Most of the bodies of her guard were strewn further up the road, though one laid still beneath her dangling feet, his Raevaryn uniform stained with blood, “Who trained them, and who assigned them to my royal guard?” Her tone was crisp and forthright, like the hiss of a snake before it struck. She wanted answers right then and there, and it was clear that she wasn’t going to move from her spot until he provided them.
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Post by Elvander on Mar 14, 2021 0:28:33 GMT
Talion pulled up short as he was hit with a wave of fury coming of Nadia in ripples. It felt controlled but barely repressed, and his own rage reared up to respond, attracted as if it were a moth to a flame. He had to admit, it shocked him. The last time he'd spoken with her, she'd been a broken girl. It was suddenly very clear to him that things had changed. The heat inside him coiled in response, as if asking if he wanted to lash back. But he merely shifted in his saddle, watching her with his dark eyes like pools of night. "It was I, your Grace. I trained them and assigned them to your detail." His tone was tight and clipped, and he felt the sting of embarrassment touch him as he was held accountable. And for the first time, Talion realized how truly dire this scene was. If she spoke to Alister of this, if she held him on the chopping block, he could lose his head. Respect began to tease his feelings as he stared at the queen to be, disheveled but undeniably still beautiful. Rather than speaking again, he decided to hold his tongue, dismounting from his horse. He tossed Nadia a canteen of water and silently began to drag the bodies of his brothers in arms together into a pile. It would take too much effort to bring them back, and a funeral pyre here was as good as one anywhere else. He'd set them alight after he returned Nadia safely to the castle.
As he worked, he dared to peak up at her through the curtain of his brown hair, still feeling quite tongue tied. Talion was a man of few words on a good day, but on a day like this, he had even less to say. In the end, she would decide his fate regardless of whether he pleaded with her or not. Ryshon approached the queen, sniffing at her hand in a friendly way. It appeared his pet didn't share his misgivings. "Where are the men responsible?" he inquired finally, wondering if she knew where they had gone. If they were still alive, it was his duty to track them down.
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