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Post by etherelle on Mar 21, 2010 4:42:23 GMT -4
Everett, lost from his paranoid thinking for a brief moment, almost revealed his name to the other rich boy despite his harsh tone and incriminating words, when the rough grumble of a voice rose up from outside the tight little shed. The Lyre froze at that instant the foreign voice reached his ears. He panicked. His heart leap into his throat and he could feel nothing but the furious beat of his own blood through every inch of his body, beating a deafening tabor that rocked him into a series of violent trembling. Reila had gotten up, he was happily speaking through the door, calling out to him and beckoning the terrible voice closer! He was giving away his hiding place!
Everett's vision swam in a whirl of blinking lights and panic.
What was he to do? There was no place for him to escape through! Nothing! Just that door and in that door would soon stand the body of an enemy, someone who'd rather turn him over to the authorities than listen to him and aid his plight.
Trembling, Everett let himself release a whimper and he kicked his heels into the ground, pushing himself once again underneath the table he fell asleep under. It was a helpless gesture, for sure he would be seen, but any amount of safety was preferable to just lying himself out bare to his soon-to-be captors.
"P-please," Everett begged, his voice quavering, "Don't turn me in, please!" He heard the door being rattled against, the shake and tremor of the lock as it was pushed out of place and as the door opened, "Please, I beg of you, Reila!"
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 22, 2010 0:09:23 GMT -4
Hearing the others cry beneath him made him pause an stop his loud hollering for the one outside the old wooden shed. Reila's dead eyes sifted down to the man pleading on the floor, the way the Reila's hollow orbs sank into the man's felt as if he was actually looking at him. But as soon as the moment started it ended for the rusty door hinges had broke an the door was pried open. Reila cocked his head to the one in front of him.
Loud screamed words stringed through the air hitting skin like knives. The man in the door way was in a furious rage. Solomon carried a nasty look upon his face that did not complement his features, instead his hook nosed cringed covered in wrinkles, his long mouth puckered changing the pink color white, and his brow narrowed down. The large bun that sat on top of his head pulled his skin back like elastic. This Solomon charter was not in any good mood.
Reila could not help to back up from the sound of his words, he himself was afraid of this monster. Solomon quickly grabbed for the other's arm clinching his wrist. Reila moaned in pain as he tried to resist. Being drug out by the skin of his arm he stomped and hollered an protested in his native language. When the two were out of sight from the shed the sounds of mud splashing an screaming were still lingering in the air. Solomon was the only slightly understandable word out of the many. After a moments pause foot steps regained them self back into the shed. The same leather boots stomped their way through. Solomon stiffed the air like a dog as he gazed around with bulging eyes. "Sh Sh Sh-" his mouth made a crude sounding noise, mocking almost. Stepping back gingerly Solomon closed the door with a smirk and the room went silent.
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Post by etherelle on Mar 30, 2010 13:57:07 GMT -4
When the door was practically ripped off its hinges as the barbarian servant reached in and yanked his master from the confines of the shed, Everett pulled himself as best he could underneath the desk, his breath hitching and mumbling sounds of desperate silence as he pressed himself as far back out of sight as he possibly could. Then, they were gone, before he could even react, Solomon and Reila were stomping away, somewhere else on the grounds out of his sight. Everett released the tension in his body and he slumped against the ground in relief.
Yet, he realized he had to move. He couldn't stay here for long. The man servant could return at any moment! Gathering his meager bundle of things, the Lyre crawled out from underneath the desk and slipped out the door, hunching and trying to keep himself at an angle where he wouldn't be seen by those that might be glancing in on him from the window. He was scared. His heart beat furiously in his ears and he couldn't hear the crunch of the morning grass underneath his feet, it was beating so loud. As he stumbled away from the open turf into the forest, he glanced back at the home. Good riddance! He thought victoriously, escape! I'm free again! Yet...
He had to wonder.
Who was that young man that accosted him in the dark morning? Who was he really? And why was he...
SNAP.
Before his wondering could peruse farther on the philosophical trail, Everett found himself in the open path between a patch of brushwood, just a few yards away from the ground's edge of the elaborate home. Something snapped around his ankle and teeth dug in deep firmly catching his leg in a maw of iron. The Lyre gave a terrible yelp and fell forward, his bundle of things crushing underneath his chest as he hit the ground. Wailing again, this time with the voice of an animal, Everett glanced down at his ankle where he discovered a terrible maw of metal clasped around his bleeding ankle. It was attached to the ground by a chain, keeping him firmly in place. Whimpering and biting his lip, the mess of a man reached down and tried to unclasp the vile trap, but it was much too strong. He wouldn't have even been able to budge it even if he was in full health. Giving another wail of pain as he tested the flex of his toes, the Lyre tried to dig his fingers again into the trap and pry it open to no avail.
"Aaanh!" Everett wiped his blood on his pants, trying to dry his grip long enough so that he could pry uselessly at the trap. His voice and talent could get him out of many troubles, but they couldn't get him out of this. Glancing up at the forest, the young man balefully looked at the freedom he was trying to chase, out running him into the shadows of the wood.
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Post by telion on Dec 6, 2010 22:08:56 GMT -4
Maika heard the cry as he ran, and nearly fell headlong into the brush. He came to a halt, breathing hard and wondering if it was possible that he was not the only one being tormented in the woods this night. He listened hard, and could hear faintly what sounded like a chain rattling.
He began to move as quietly as possible, edging toward the sound, his powerful curiosity momentarily overtaking the fear that had gripped his heart since twilight. He came to the edge of the wood and crouched in the bushes, peering out. He spotted the man lying in the path, the chain somehow attached to one of his legs. Maika looked more closely and there was a sharp intake of breath as he realized with horror as he realized the man had been ensnared in a trap- the chain was attached to some sort of pair of metal jaws that were fastened firmly to his ankle.
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Post by etherelle on Apr 10, 2011 21:44:42 GMT -4
No matter how much he tried to pry himself free, he could not move from his trap. He stretched himself along the ground, as if he he gave the gentlest movement, he would be able to pull himself free and limp away. The chain only jingled, as if chuckling at his useless attempt. He gave another grit of his teeth, restraining himself from crying out with his own voice, and instead mimicked again another pained yelp of an animal. It was only then that he heard a breath of another, a breath that was not his. He snapped his head up, fear exploding on his face as he realized he was not alone. Not just alone, but he was trapped, dirtied, tired, a runaway, fugitive, and potential threat meant to be executed on site, and he was using his ability there before this stranger.
Damn.
Everett shrunk back around his ankle, shaking his hair into his eyes as he attempted to pry free the iron jaws digging into the tendons of his ankle. No use, his hands were slippery, his fingers shaking too much to do anything useful, and his breath was panting too fast in his chest, spinning his head into dizziness. but he could notice something in particular about the stranger who stood before him. He was running too. He wasn't a guard patrolling the perimeters, he was someone in the same situation as he. But that didn't mean that Everett could trust him. He could, though, perhaps, ask him for help.
"Please..." he said in a whisper, "Help me...Help me...
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Post by telion on Apr 11, 2011 12:31:47 GMT -4
Maika froze at the sound of the man's voice. His breathing sounded loud in his own ears. He couldn't stay, but he couldn't just leave the other man- he eyed the chain with it's terrible metal jaws. Moving slowly he began to creep towards the suffering figure. A few feet away he stopped, trembling. The man did not look like one of them. He swallowed hard and came closer. He kneeled down next to the man's head.
Ir acht niet. Ma jun lin? He asked quietly. He studied his face and tried again. "I won't hurt you..." He whispered. "How did you become trapped?"
As he spoke he began to work. Tearing off the metal contraption was not going to be easy. The best thing to do would be to help with the pain first, and then attempt to pry it off. calm. He thought. Calm, less hurting... calm... Although not entirely sure it would work, he tried the old Agravinian trick. It mainly worked for fear or anxiety in others, leaching it away from their minds gradually. Physical pain was something completely different. In his mind he saw the shape of it. How on earth would he make a dent in that?
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Post by etherelle on Apr 21, 2011 1:31:23 GMT -4
Beyond his frantic breathing and scratchy inhales, Everett could hear the other slowly creep nearer to his shuddering body on the forest floor, and he shifted, his leg dragging in the metal teeth and the blood-soggy ground below. He tried to tuck his chin closer to his neck, a vain effort to hide the brand on his neck that might otherwise be seen behind the disarrayed shuffle of his scarf, which had been pulled free in the chaos before. Then, in time with a whimper, the other spoke, a series of words that Everett didn't know, but knew that he could repeat and mimic with perfect accuracy should he dare to use his terrible gift. He gave a daring glance at the man above, a dangerous stare of his eyes that promised pain should he do anything more than help him from his terrible predicament.
His frightened belligerence though, only lasted for so long before Everett became to feel himself calm, somehow, strangely, pacified by the other stranger's presence. His shoulders relaxed and his grip in the twisted earth loosened. But that was his anger only, not the pain taht shot up the entire length of his leg whenever he attempted to move.
"I...I didn't look where I was stepping, I was trying to get somewhere safe before the morning broke," Everett said easily, despite his internal reluctance to say anything at all. He didn't like the calmness effecting him, something he quickly registered as abnormal. He knew himself, and given the situation, there was no way he would've spoken at all had he been in the right frame of mind. This other had a secret too. As to what it was, Everett didn't care. He was too calm to bother being more irritated that the frantic swirl of his mind.
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Post by telion on Apr 26, 2011 19:48:02 GMT -4
Maika paused, suddenly looking very hard at the stranger. Something was unusual about the man, but it was hard to see in the darkness and he was tired and wary himself. He felt his own fear building suddenly. The two of them were in plain sight, if they were caught-... He shook himself, forcing his fear back.
"It's alright- I'm going to help you...but this will hurt now okay?" He said, bracing himself. "Look right at me, everything will be okay." He began to pull at the iron trap, fiddling with the screws and sharp metal pieces. "I have seen this work before..." he said softly, looking carefully at one of the screws for a moment. "It is thorough..."
A glance at the stranger's face made him work more quickly. "I am... Maika..." he said as the last screw came loose, and he began to prize the pieces apart. "I can treat the wound after this, but you will need shelter first." He added. He tossed the pieces aside- all but one, a tiny silver screw which he put in his pocket.
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Post by etherelle on Apr 28, 2011 3:40:22 GMT -4
Feeling the jaws slowly but surely loosen their teeth from inside his ankle, the Lyre winced and blurted out with series of painful sobs as the pressure was released from the teeth digging into his skin. The other was right, it definitely hurt. He had to distract himself with breathing, gulping down breath like it were water, tacking his intense gaze on the other as was suggested. He had to trust that it was going to be okay, just like the other said. He dragged his knee up towards his chest once he was finally free from the bear trap's snares, cradling his wounded leg with care. His face was wet and hot, his eyes blinking madly from the heat of pain and the scream of his voice, but at least it was over, and he could proceed to pull himself together.
"Thanks...Thanks a lot..." he managed to stammer as he looked down at his ankle. With the wounds exposed and open now with nothing to press against them, they began the source of a veritable gush of blood. Vainly trying to press his fingers over the wounds while he desperately thought for some way to secure them, Everett looked up into the eyes of the stranger while he attempted to pick himself up into a sitting position. He still didn't trust the other...But he had to trust him still. There was no way he was going to be able to do anything, nonetheless run from the authorities, not like he was now.
"....There's a house near here...That's the only shelter I've found...But there is a young lord in there, blind...Perhaps if we...told lies, made up something?" Everett offered helplessly, knowing full well that being anywhere other than indoors would lend them to the sights of others that might call them in.
He gave a tense shrug, staring between the man and his bleeding ankle, that was quickly turning his hands and leg red. "My name is Thatcher. Call me Thatcher," he said, in as honest a tone he could muster, which was a pretty honest tone. That was the point of being a Lyre, wasn't it? Lying?
Everett bit his lip and tried to look down at his ankle, unable to see it not underneath all profuse amounts of blood. He could hardly even move his foot anymore, or even roll his ankle, or flex his toes.
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Post by telion on May 14, 2011 11:58:18 GMT -4
Thatcher... Maika tried out the name while he scrambled looking around for something to stop the flow of blood that now welled up from the man's leg. He found nothing in the immediate clearing, and was loathe to leave the man laying there alone. He looked down at his torn shirt and shrugged slightly.
"Hello Thatcher." He said aloud, trying to smile. His face seemed to have forgotten how. He began to tear bits of his shirt into strips to make a makeshift bandage, considering the man's suggestion as he worked. In his short life, Maika had learned well enough to distrust anyone with a title. A lord was not one to trust, especially at a time like this- but what else could they do?
He nodded finally. "Alright, we'll need a good story though... and maybe you should tell it..." He said doubtfully. He was almost positive that no one would buy anything he came up with- he was a terrible liar.
He bound the wound with two sorry looking pieces of his already ragged shirt, his brow furrowed as he tied the knots. He felt so helpless, he had none of his supplies, no where to go, nothing. And yet, here he was trying to save a man's life. He shook his head, willing himself to be calm. Thatcher seemed to be holding up better, but they had to get to shelter if either of them wanted to make it to dawn.
"Try to move it- if the pain is too much, tell me and I'll try to take some of it away." He said, feeling ashamed at his uselessness. He held out a hand to Thatcher, wondering as he did exactly why he'd chosen to align himself with this particular stranger.
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Post by etherelle on Jun 7, 2011 17:34:50 GMT -4
The newly dubbed Thatcher looked up at his savior with a feigned look of gratitude cleverly masking the twinge of distrust and worry stapled throughout his features. He wasn't ready to completely trust this man but what else could he do? Not only that but he was working gently. He was kind. He seemed like he was dumb enough to not understand the trials in the world concerning interactions with others. He had not yet been betrayed like Thatcher was, whose time with the world had left him gutted and frantically reeling back his guts. That made him all the more susceptible, this fellow, that made him all the more vulnerable. He had an air of innocence, and Thatcher could sense it almost as plainly as if it were blood recently spilled onto his lap. It was hard not to notice. It was hard not to be disturbed by it, worried.
Why was he worried? Of all people, Everett had learned his place, that he should look out for himself and no one else. Why would be be worried for this fellow, simply because of an air of simplicity and innocence? Such questions went unanswered because Everett bit them away and immersed himself again in the role of Thatcher, runaway in a forest, recently caught by a bear trap, and even more recently freed. Thatcher managed a mirroring smile, copying Maika's broken grin. Perhaps Maika HAD seen trouble like Everett's...
"Hello," he offered meekly, tensing as the man fussed and wrapped up his bleeding ankle. His fingers dug into the dirt beneath him, gasping with pain. The wound had pressure now, enough to start the stop of blood flow. How long had he been bleeding without abandon? Thatcher was feeling incredibly dizzy the longer they kneeled together in the evaporating dawn, and he demonstrated this fact with a wobble of his arms as he was holding himself up. He dragged up his heavy gaze to Maika and nodded at his next set of instructions. He would have to try and get up.
Dragging his leg underneath him, the man fixed himself onto his knee and his arms, ready to push himself up from the ground. He got about as far as a flex of his thighs and a growl bitten off between his teeth before he dropped again, unable to get himself up from the forest floor. For a few moments he knelt, breathing hard and straining to get a grip of his slowly wobbling surroundings, and then, with a shout, he pushed himself up onto his two legs, one bent to favor his bleeding ankle. But the moment of grandeur lasted for only so long before he swung his arms out about him, yelped with pain, and fell back, this time into Maika.
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