Hope (Wyn, Open) December 3010
Oct 24, 2017 12:16:30 GMT -5
Post by Wyn on Oct 24, 2017 12:16:30 GMT -5
Cries of terror had been infinitely preferable to the noises that now ripped up from the elf's throat. All she could think of now was the wraith who had done this to him, how cold his grip had been as he had carried her off. The primitive, fearful part of her mind was screaming at her to flee from this thing that was once an elf, to get away before he could do the same. But this wasn't a wraith, at least not yet. This was Adan, this was her friend. She had lost so much already, she wasn't about to lose him too.
The shrieking and thrashing suddenly subsided, but it was more ominous than relieving. He went limp, leaning against her, and when he finally spoke again, his hissing words were frighteningly placid. He had gone so cold and pale already, but in the gloom of the fire she could swear that his skin was beginning to trace through with dark lines, as if his very veins were filling up with shadow. She looked up into his eyes, once as vivid and deep as the sky, now glowing like the campfire next to them and staring blankly ahead. Wyn couldn't help but wonder if there was anything there left to save, or if she was just clinging to a walking corpse.
When the distant cry drifted over the wind, she froze, tearing her gaze away from Adan to scan the darkness. "Shrakh," she spat quietly, feeling her blood run cold. That hadn't just been the wind howling--they weren't alone out here. One hand drifted down to the knife at her hip, and to her puzzlement, she realized that she wasn't afraid, at least not for herself. No, she was furious, burning with a protective ferocity she had never known before. If that wraith had followed them, if he so much as laid a finger on her friend, if he thought they were going to fail after coming so far, then she was going to rip him to shreds with her bare hands. Never mind the fact that he was a ghost. Never mind the fact that she was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. She had already led a half-dozen slaves to their death at this abomination's hands, she wasn't letting him take Adan too.
The man returned to their side with a handful of plants. She recognized them vaguely, having seen it growing within crevices in Nurn, but knowing it only as a nameless weed. Nevertheless, she nodded, memorizing the shape of the leaves and stem. If they made it back to Mordor, she would be sure to seek it out in the future. Adan cried out as the half-chewed leaves were pressed to his side, but she only gritted her teeth and held onto him tighter. To her surprise, he clung to her just as desperately, stirring a tiny ember of hope within her that the Adan she knew was still in there somewhere. "Easy now," she murmured, pressing her brow to his and closing her eyes, "you're going to be all right, I promise." As the stranger continued his ministrations, he seemed to relax in earnest, rather than just go limp and lifeless as he had before. Wyn looked up at the man as he spoke again, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thank you. I'm Wyn, this is Adanedhel." When he gestured to the city in the distance, she nodded, knowing that to remain out here with the threat of nazgul closing in would be suicide. Their only chance was to make a last, desperate dash to the settlement and hope they had enough of a head-start to succeed. The distant cry came again, and Wyn suppressed a shiver of deep, primitive fear at the sound. Was this how a rabbit felt when it heard a wolf howl?
The man broke camp and bundled Adan securely in a thick woolen blanket, rousing the elf from his exhausted stupor and setting him to cry out once more. As if in response, she heard the shrieks come again, and she could have sworn they were closer this time. Rising to her feet, she grabbed her cloak out of the snow and slung it over her shoulder. Wyn moved to take part of Adan's weight from the man, refusing to let her exhausted body win out over her mind. Adan cried out, begging her to end him, and she squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to meet his gaze. He's not gone yet, she kept repeating to herself, a mantra repeated over and over in her head. There's still a chance.
She focused all her energy on staying upright and bearing Adan across the snow, only realizing they had reached the gates of the city when a guardsman called down to them. Someone said something--maybe it was the stranger, maybe another guard, and the gates swung open to admit them through. The town was near-silent this time of night, but she had little doubt that Adan's screaming would draw attention to them. She could only hope that they'd be allowed into the healing hall in time, that they hadn't come all this way for nothing.
The shrieking and thrashing suddenly subsided, but it was more ominous than relieving. He went limp, leaning against her, and when he finally spoke again, his hissing words were frighteningly placid. He had gone so cold and pale already, but in the gloom of the fire she could swear that his skin was beginning to trace through with dark lines, as if his very veins were filling up with shadow. She looked up into his eyes, once as vivid and deep as the sky, now glowing like the campfire next to them and staring blankly ahead. Wyn couldn't help but wonder if there was anything there left to save, or if she was just clinging to a walking corpse.
When the distant cry drifted over the wind, she froze, tearing her gaze away from Adan to scan the darkness. "Shrakh," she spat quietly, feeling her blood run cold. That hadn't just been the wind howling--they weren't alone out here. One hand drifted down to the knife at her hip, and to her puzzlement, she realized that she wasn't afraid, at least not for herself. No, she was furious, burning with a protective ferocity she had never known before. If that wraith had followed them, if he so much as laid a finger on her friend, if he thought they were going to fail after coming so far, then she was going to rip him to shreds with her bare hands. Never mind the fact that he was a ghost. Never mind the fact that she was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. She had already led a half-dozen slaves to their death at this abomination's hands, she wasn't letting him take Adan too.
The man returned to their side with a handful of plants. She recognized them vaguely, having seen it growing within crevices in Nurn, but knowing it only as a nameless weed. Nevertheless, she nodded, memorizing the shape of the leaves and stem. If they made it back to Mordor, she would be sure to seek it out in the future. Adan cried out as the half-chewed leaves were pressed to his side, but she only gritted her teeth and held onto him tighter. To her surprise, he clung to her just as desperately, stirring a tiny ember of hope within her that the Adan she knew was still in there somewhere. "Easy now," she murmured, pressing her brow to his and closing her eyes, "you're going to be all right, I promise." As the stranger continued his ministrations, he seemed to relax in earnest, rather than just go limp and lifeless as he had before. Wyn looked up at the man as he spoke again, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thank you. I'm Wyn, this is Adanedhel." When he gestured to the city in the distance, she nodded, knowing that to remain out here with the threat of nazgul closing in would be suicide. Their only chance was to make a last, desperate dash to the settlement and hope they had enough of a head-start to succeed. The distant cry came again, and Wyn suppressed a shiver of deep, primitive fear at the sound. Was this how a rabbit felt when it heard a wolf howl?
The man broke camp and bundled Adan securely in a thick woolen blanket, rousing the elf from his exhausted stupor and setting him to cry out once more. As if in response, she heard the shrieks come again, and she could have sworn they were closer this time. Rising to her feet, she grabbed her cloak out of the snow and slung it over her shoulder. Wyn moved to take part of Adan's weight from the man, refusing to let her exhausted body win out over her mind. Adan cried out, begging her to end him, and she squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to meet his gaze. He's not gone yet, she kept repeating to herself, a mantra repeated over and over in her head. There's still a chance.
She focused all her energy on staying upright and bearing Adan across the snow, only realizing they had reached the gates of the city when a guardsman called down to them. Someone said something--maybe it was the stranger, maybe another guard, and the gates swung open to admit them through. The town was near-silent this time of night, but she had little doubt that Adan's screaming would draw attention to them. She could only hope that they'd be allowed into the healing hall in time, that they hadn't come all this way for nothing.