Hope (Wyn, Open) December 3010
Oct 26, 2017 12:52:26 GMT -5
Post by Wyn on Oct 26, 2017 12:52:26 GMT -5
Wyn hadn't missed the look that crossed the woman's face as she caught sight of her old scars, and scowled, looking away. If there was one thing that riled her more than anything else, it was pity. Pity for her ruined looks, pity for her sorry state, pity for her tragic life. She couldn't stand it. She didn’t need it. Through little else aside from her own tenacity and wiles, Wyn had managed to survive in a land that saw her as less than the dirt beneath their boots for nearly a decade now. Her continued existence and defiance was a spit in the face to every orc, wraith, and beast that had tried to kill her in the past.
Before she could snap at the healer for staring, however, she managed to reel in her ire and release it with a shaky breath. The woman meant no harm, and to be fair, at the moment she probably looked even worse than she normally did. The offer of warmth and food, food especially, helped soothe her further, and she let the lady began cleaning her wounds, holding still aside from a slight clenching of her hands whenever the cloth brushed over a raw spot.
Despite her exhaustion and the grimness of the situation, she still managed a tired chuckle as the healer remarked on the source of the bite on her shoulder. “Y’ ought to see the warg,” she mumbled, a slightly-vicious grin cross her face. When the beast had pounced her and clamped into her shoulder, she had retaliated by gouging her knife into its muzzle and dragging down, the edge of her blade grating against bone. As the creature reeled back, shrieking, she had finished it with a slash across the throat. She may have suffered a bad injury of her own, but she had been able to limp away from the encounter. Neither the warg nor its rider had been so lucky.
For a time, she had been slowly warming up in the heat of the hall, but now she could have sworn that there was a chill creeping through the air. The change roused her further, and she blinked several times, trying to clear her muddled mind. Perhaps it was just a draft from the outside? Someone had just walked into the hall, maybe they had let a gust of cold air in by accident. Rather than diminish, as she expected it to, the chill only seemed to grow, seeping into flesh and bone as if she was still outside in the storm. With it came an undercurrent of dread that set the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. Something was very, very wrong.
Concerned, she looked towards Adan and his attendants, unable to see much but surmising that the blonde woman and a newcomer were dressing his wounds. Nothing seemed bad there, so why did this cold make her so nervous?
She would receive her answer sooner than expected, for suddenly the hall darkened and a group of figures materialized in the center of the room amidst a chorus of screeches. Wyn’s blood ran cold at the sight, and single noise of despair escaped her. “No…”
This wasn’t fair. They were safe, they had survived, they had escaped. This wasn’t fair. Staring in horror, she watched as the man attempting to keep Adan down was swatted to the floor with barely any effort, and the elf was hauled off the the bed and slung across a shoulder.
“No.”
Before she realized what she was doing, the girl had thrown herself from the bed and was charging the wraith, bringing her non-injured shoulder to bear.
“No, no, NO!”
Though she was all but spent, fury provided her a last ounce of energy as she attempted to slam herself into the wraith’s back to try and make him drop the elf. She wouldn't--couldn't--allow this. They didn’t get to win. They didn’t get to take her friend, not after everything they had been through.
Before she could snap at the healer for staring, however, she managed to reel in her ire and release it with a shaky breath. The woman meant no harm, and to be fair, at the moment she probably looked even worse than she normally did. The offer of warmth and food, food especially, helped soothe her further, and she let the lady began cleaning her wounds, holding still aside from a slight clenching of her hands whenever the cloth brushed over a raw spot.
Despite her exhaustion and the grimness of the situation, she still managed a tired chuckle as the healer remarked on the source of the bite on her shoulder. “Y’ ought to see the warg,” she mumbled, a slightly-vicious grin cross her face. When the beast had pounced her and clamped into her shoulder, she had retaliated by gouging her knife into its muzzle and dragging down, the edge of her blade grating against bone. As the creature reeled back, shrieking, she had finished it with a slash across the throat. She may have suffered a bad injury of her own, but she had been able to limp away from the encounter. Neither the warg nor its rider had been so lucky.
For a time, she had been slowly warming up in the heat of the hall, but now she could have sworn that there was a chill creeping through the air. The change roused her further, and she blinked several times, trying to clear her muddled mind. Perhaps it was just a draft from the outside? Someone had just walked into the hall, maybe they had let a gust of cold air in by accident. Rather than diminish, as she expected it to, the chill only seemed to grow, seeping into flesh and bone as if she was still outside in the storm. With it came an undercurrent of dread that set the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. Something was very, very wrong.
Concerned, she looked towards Adan and his attendants, unable to see much but surmising that the blonde woman and a newcomer were dressing his wounds. Nothing seemed bad there, so why did this cold make her so nervous?
She would receive her answer sooner than expected, for suddenly the hall darkened and a group of figures materialized in the center of the room amidst a chorus of screeches. Wyn’s blood ran cold at the sight, and single noise of despair escaped her. “No…”
This wasn’t fair. They were safe, they had survived, they had escaped. This wasn’t fair. Staring in horror, she watched as the man attempting to keep Adan down was swatted to the floor with barely any effort, and the elf was hauled off the the bed and slung across a shoulder.
“No.”
Before she realized what she was doing, the girl had thrown herself from the bed and was charging the wraith, bringing her non-injured shoulder to bear.
“No, no, NO!”
Though she was all but spent, fury provided her a last ounce of energy as she attempted to slam herself into the wraith’s back to try and make him drop the elf. She wouldn't--couldn't--allow this. They didn’t get to win. They didn’t get to take her friend, not after everything they had been through.