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Kim and P!ATWD 1x1 RP Folder Thing... *frying brain sounds*
message 101:
by
Kimberly
(new)
Mar 21, 2019 05:46PM
Terry sighed. “Have I ever told you it’s a little bit annoying when you take everything in stride like that and make it seem so completely mundane?” Course he wasn’t saying that in terms of the non-people as they use the word mundane, but specifically as the dictionary would define that word. “ I mean other than putting books back where they go start really a lot of cleaning and the sheep bladder set something on fire?“ He looked around as if to confirm that nothing was wrong or damage with the books that would be a true travesty. “You know we definitely can’t let her leave now... and, well, Charlotte kinda needs to know.” Despite the fact that he seem to be right about things at least in part he really wasn’t the sort of person to just blurt out ‘I told you so‘ because well, the person he would’ve been saying it to you was a person he would be able to bring himself to say that phrase towards.
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In no way did the world come easily to him; he took nothing in stride. In fact, he lived too far into his head to ever really be happy, but spent quite a bit of energy making everything shine on the outside, like polished crystal:
Nothing ever touched him.
But, like crystal, reality was quite the opposite. The slightest touch, one wrong move, one single phrase, and he could be marked, scraped, and scared.
Not that he would admit any of that to anyone, so he just held his tongue and played it smooth, like he wasn't thinking 'if only you knew... just two minutes ago...'
Instead, he was just his arrogant, socratic self: a roll of the eyes and shake of the head.
He had the whole world fooled.
He really should have been an actor...
Too bad he was destined to be nephilim, or whatever it was he was.
The thing was that, to Ash, life was a game. A game of 'I know, that you know, that I know, that you know, that I think, that you think, that I know, that you know.'
Quite a long title, but it was so nonetheless.
So, instead of being himself, he became who he wanted to be.
Not warm, but cold. Like dry ice.
Not nice, but spiteful. Like bitter, sharp winds.
Not loving or loved, but removed; completely isolated.
Instead of admitting all of this, however, he just shrugged.
"I have long legs," he stated, raising both eyebrows in a 'isn't it obvious' fashion, "and I'm super graceful which can only help. No tripping on the stairs o' life."
He grinned, crossing his arms.
"And, besides. We all know that I hate cleaning. It is the only thing that trips me. I can dance in filth and balance on garbage, but a mop is hardly insightful.... quite a dull partner."
Suddenly somber again, he continued:
"Kim's not going anywhere because Charlotte is going to find her in the infirmary, where she left her, with a pair of wings. Which means that, like it or not, the Clave will be here and they'll just have another toy to tear apart and mock. Another me... 'Ta-dah!'"
He made jazz hands and left it at that, vowing, inwardly, to find out what was really going on, whether he had permission or not.
Terry frowned. “Ash...” maybe he was fooled maybe he bought the illusion that was presented to him and the nice package that it was wrapped into however, that last statement made him stare at the only slightly older guy before him. “So… This is hypothetical.“ He professed his following statement with this because he didn’t want to do anything that got him in trouble, but he pressed on. “What would happen if the Clave wasn’t contacted? I mean Charlotte would have to know but why do they need to know? Can’t we just deal with anything in the house how we see fit?“ He was sure to make it sound like a young student learning but something about this had upset Ash and he would rather his surrogate big brother not be upset for whatever reason.—Infirmary—
Kim shivered running a fever still, or more accurately again. Her body temperature couldn’t seem to make up its mind however she was back to her fair complexion no longer looking that color of pink except in the rosiness of her cheeks, and though she was unconscious she also felt somewhat aware. What she was Aware of she didn’t know, but something made her afraid. Thoughts she couldn’t grasp fully voices she didn’t like whose words were immediately forgotten as soon as they were spoken. To say they were memories would’ve been close, but the question would be who’s memories? Because none of them were her memories.
Mod
Ash made a point of keeping his voice mutual, matter of fact.
Like he was providing some sort of tutoring.
He had slipped, and he could feel the boy tiptoeing around him, trying to ease his way forward, to the center on the minefield.
But that wasn't going to happen.
Besides, what was there wasn't that important anyway. Mostly, it was just petty self loathing.
A fact that mad Ash smirk outwardly, for whatever reason.
"If we don't tell them," he continued, "we go to prison in the Silent City for God knows how long and then loose our home here and get sent out somewhere else. And, as Charlotte is bound to see our issue, the Clave will be all too delighted..."
The book in his pocket, the slip of paper it contained, they were burning a hole in his pocket, but he was going at this alone.
Alone was the only way sometimes.
Any good strategist would know...
and they would use it to their advantage.
"There's not much else we can do," he finished, chewing on a fingernail nonchalauntly and glaring daggers at the table before him, "and I think it's high time to sleep the day away. I have another patrol tonight..."
Whenever duty calls.
Terry suddenly felt angry, but not at Ash, no not at him. At this girl, the stupid person who had to interfere in their lives and messed things up. He was just learning the ropes and finally feeling a little more confident with his studies and then this girl comes in and throws a curve ball with her freakishly black-and-white wings and causing all this drama. “Yeah, i’ll go turn into, son is almost up and I’d like to get a little sleep before Charlotte goes back in there and probably screams to high heaven at what she sees.“ He gave a roll of his eyes and decided not to press further, even though there were times he felt incredibly close to Ash. There were other times he felt millions of miles away and he didn’t know what to do about it, he didn’t know how to have relationships with people. How to have those difficult conversations or encourage them or any of that stuff because it had been done to him so he was just making it up as he went in as usual he gave up. He offered a crooked smile and bod Ash night/morning, Before turning to leave. He wasn’t looking forward to his dreams. Was one of the things he didn’t talk about, but another reason he didn’t like to sleep at night, the nightmares were worse. For some reason when he slept during the day they didn’t seem to bother him as much but with all of this, and all the unnecessary thinking and drama he was sure the nightmares were going to come with a vengeance tonight or… This morning.
Mod
((Oh my gosh! I hate it when that happens! So sorry! *Hugs* do you use the app? If you do I always copy my posts because it happens more than I would like to admit. What do you use on your computer sometimes I type my post in word and then they’re still there))
Mod
"'To high heaven'" Ash quoted back in mutual agreement, amusement in his tone.
Charlotte was not likely to take the situation lightly.
Stretching, he stood and bode Terry goodnight before returning to his room. Sleep, however, would not follow him. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and thought things over, playing a light tune on his violin, letting it wash all else away until he could do nothing but think and play, think and play, while the sun sunk lower in the sky.
Waiting on the night.
***
Charlotte sat at the counter, munching on a piece of toast, when a most terrible racket stopped her midbite. Cautiously, she crept toward the library, vacant by now, and then toward the infirmary where a most curious sight awaited her.
And, yes, scream to high heaven she did.
((best I got for now XD))
((*Hugs* yeah I totally understand. I’ve had it happened more times than I care to count because I use the application most times to one of the reasons I started copying my posts when they start getting lengthy. Or before I post them yet even then I still end up losing them sometimes :-( and it’s at those moments you’re just like I can’t write a response to this again and you have to come back later. I hope all is well with you forgive me for taking so long I’m finally over the flu and the second round of sickness that had after the flu and now finally feel like I have my brain cells back))Terry was a very light sleeper yet he fell asleep quite quickly so he didn’t know how long he’s been asleep before he heard the scream but dutifully even though he knew the reason he left from his bed and tore out of his room as if he himself had been summoned and was on fire needing to be put out. He arrived in the doorway and just stared Garking stupidly was he acting? Not really. He just didn’t know what to do so he stared on, looking conveniently stupefied and waiting for whatever the woman who had become a surrogate big sister/mother figure in the strange institute place that was now his home.
Kim of course couldn’t wake the strain that had taken place on her body was more than enough to keep her sedated, the fever wasn’t last leaving her almost porcelain like skin it’s normal color one wing draped over her almost like a blanket the other half under her and hanging off the bed she laid on.
message 110:
by
Panic!AtTheWritingDesk, Creator of TheWritingDesk
(last edited Apr 10, 2019 08:05AM)
(new)
Mod
The world seemed to swing on its axis, tilting unsteadily as Charlotte stared at the still, pale figure in the infirmary, intent on bringing her to her knees. It wasn't that the sight was frightening, or even alarming, but it was, indeed, startling to see one event for the second time. True, the first had been quite different, but that did not ease the wave of dayshavoo that passed over Charlotte's head, jolting her at her roots.
Somehow, she had failed to notice that Terry had entered the room, quiet as he was, and she shook her head at herself when she jumped, startled. She knew, as was the typical occurrence, that he was there to help in any way possible, but help wasn't really necessary True, the girl would need some blankets and probably some food for when she woke up, just to make her feel better...
Well, then, Terry was quite the cook; better than Charlotte anyway.
"Terry, would you mind..." she stopped, shaking her head.
What was the best food for this matter?
Even after all of this time, Charlotte didn't know. Ash never seemed to complain, had just woken from feverish sleep and supplied the room with a good dose of dry, sarcastic humor and a cold shoulder, an icy glare, but Ash... Ash was difficult, touchy almost. Just as you thought you were getting close to something, anything at all, he cast you back out a million miles away, stranded in a dark universe where he was the sun and you were just one tiny, stranded astronaut.
The only planet seemed to be Terry, and even planets were distant, though Terr was probably the closest, like Mercury.
She remembered, vaguely, why that may be, but she couldn't be sure. Ash had never shared a motive for taking the boy in, not even so much as a bland explanation or recall of events, but here he was and here he would stay. If she had to guess, the kid had probably been mistreated, tossed out and pummeled by the people who were supposed to protect him: it was the only thing she could think of. Likely it was, too, for it was so close to Ash's own predicament that it just might have punched a whole in his armor. Perhaps.
The past was hardly worth revisiting.
"Would you mind making Miss..." she didn't know the girl's name she realised, motioning toward the girl instead, "our... visitor? Some soup and toast or crackers, whatever you would prefer?"
She sensed, vaguely, that her tone was flat, her gaze far off, but history seemed to be flooding into the room, drowning her in memories, repeating itself all over again. She may have gone into something akin to shock, but she would be alright.
Slowly, she went to the foot of the bed, turning from the only other lively presence in the room, and opened the small chest that stood there, grabbing a handful of woollen covers and then laying them, folded, on the edge of the mattress Carefully, as though handling fine china, she folded the poor girl's wings, blindingly white and sprinkled with black, toward her body, imagining a small snap, a tiny, sharp inhale from a body other than her own, a black feather falling to the floor, a tiny movement followed by a muttered curse, a sharp "watch your mouth," falling from her lips automatically. Of course, all of this was simply in her head, she had learned better by now, so she moved to cover the still form before her with two of the four blankets, leaving the others on the edge, ready for use if needed.
Big, blue eyes flashed before her, and she sat on the bed just opposite the ghostly figure, watching the vision come into focus, black hair and a smile following, running feet, a dagger flying through the air, end over end, to hit the center of the target perfectly, wobbling slightly as the momentum left it for the air around it, singing in protest of being buried.
"Extraordinary," she heard herself breath in disbelief, though, in the present, she sat quite still and silent, "here, try a broad sword."
Weapon after weapon hit the mark, the eight year old before her, grinning eagerly and glancing back for her approval.
And then the vision changed, shifting to a Clave meeting, the Inquisitor before her, one eyebrow raised in aprehension.
"I highly doubt..."
"You weren't there," she pleaded, "you wouldn't know. This isn't the answer. You'd be killing the best warrior or the next generation; it's murder."
A strong, motherly instinct had filled her then, and the words had slipped out of their own accord, unwilling to be held back:
"You will not touch my son."
True, the child of which she spoke was not hers, but it was close enough to being true, a tiny baby she had been told was her institute's new charge, the doubtful, questioning look she had given the figure who now stood before her, proposing the slaughter of what had turned into a living, breathing, loving individual.
"Oh, but I will," the Inquisitor challenged, eyes narrowing, "or someone may do it for me, but he must fall. He is an abomination. Things like him were never meant to exist."
'Things' had been emphasised, spit out like venom.
The vision floated away, replaced by a little ten year old, holding a small box of powder, some kind of medication, giving her an odd look.
"Do I have to?"
"Unless you want the Clave to take you away..."
"No! No, not that."
"Then put some in a glass of water and away you go."
A rufling of ebony hair, a small grin in return.
The image floated away, a new one taking its place:
Dark hair, blue eyes, both struck through with silver now, the sight shockingly beautiful and terribly ugly at the same time.
A new image, replacing the old so fast that Charlotte's head swam:
"No, no, no... you can't..."
"Mom!" distant, pleading, "Mom?!"
"Let him go, please, he... nothing you've predicted has been accurate. No wings, no odd desire to kill everyone. You..."
"We are doing what is right, Charlotte, the boy will be fine. He will be back, but he needs time in the Silent City."
"In a prison, in a cell, in the dark, chained in..."
"No, in a room, in the light, receiving the training he needs. We aren't barbarians. You know that."
Years later, waiting anxiously by the door, one thought running through her mind:
"Five years, it's been five years."
A knock resound through the empty building, echoing through the corridors, words are mumbled, and the door is pushed open by a representative of the Clave, only those of Shadowhunter blood able to enter unless invited inside.
A fifteen year old spirit flits into the room, looks at her uncertainty, and shrinks back toward the shadowy wall, all but a pair of sharp, guarded eyes disappearing into the dark.
"Za..."
"Don't."
A small crack in her heart, and she looks to the stranger for help.
He only stands like a statue and then nods stiffly as a way of pardoning his existence before turning to leave.
That was the first time Ash had been distant, cold hearted, and the progression hadn't stopped there:
Nights were spent jarred awake by horrid, frightened screams, only to be flinched away from when offering consulence.
The training room went unused for months, the first and last time in five years they had stepped into it together ending in a flash of silver and mutilated dummies, shattered targets, and a great sense of dread that built in Charlotte's chest until she felt like weeping.
Indeed, they had killed her son, her baby, for he was now a machine that killed and trained in an endless, vicious cycle, all traces of the black haired, blue eyed child gone, faded with time.
The only positive outcome had been the music: sweet, soft violin that floated, hauntingly, down the corridors throughout the night and well into the morning.
Then the piano, the harp, even the tuba.
It was then that Charlotte had simply filled a room with instruments and conveniently left the door wide open, claiming that it had always been there when an awestruck, smiling teenager had questioned her the next day.
The only smiles produced now were cold, cruel, and sharp, pointed like razors.
The present snapped back into place, and Charlotte wiped at her eyes, hastily, noting the tears that had escaped from unseeing eyes.
And, again, she scolded herself for being weak.
((no pov for Ash in this one as I feel like Charlotte has said enough XD and, yes, so true XD i wish it would be easier sometimes XD))
Terry nodded, and despite the dislike he felt for this intruder‘ he hurried on to do it she requested. “On it.“ There is no kindness only a dutiful response as he hurried away. He was tempted to open a can of some random glob substance barely heat it and spilled some crackers on the plate however, he knew better than to be like that maybe from how he was raised or maybe from another reason however. So he said to cooking something properly on the stove from scratch, sure to make extra for the others he didn’t seem to have an appetite, once again. It happens from time to time when he was angry. He didn’t like that he got angry like this, but he felt like this girl had hurt Ash, and now was messing everything up. The childish side of him wanted to throw a tantrum, but he did what he was good at turning it into something so he focuses anger and aggression into his cooking. Not in the way that the food would be bad, but more so I focusing the energy it took to have such anger into his actions which made even the simplest actions of stirring look as if he was wielding a weapon. It didn’t help they were training him to be a killer. So now he could more accurately do such actions with scalpel precision.—Infirmary—-
Kim didn’t wake however she turned her head slightly to the side where had her eyes been open she would’ve been looking at the girl sitting there lost in her memories and though she couldn’t read minds or see with the girl was the reliving she felt it. Her breathing quickens her chest rising and falling rapidly now. Why could she be so cold at times? So distant? It was easy because she had a trying to guard her self. Living the life that she had and being completely empathetic to everyone around her was exhausting, that’s why Library was a safe place for her to hide. A sanctuary books didn’t feel and it let her finally have a chance to feel her own emotions instead of the on slot of everyone else’s!
So what Charlotte would see when her eyes wouldn’t last focus on the present and she could see the girl would be tears, not a small amount of tears like someone who have been weeping vehemently. Kim’s face contorted, red from the intensity of her crying. Sniffing, sobbing silently. Stuck in a dream now brought on by intense emotions. Random images that fit the intensity of such emotions but didn’t make sense emotions but flittered through with symbols again not making sense. Her heart pounding violently in her chest and the worst thing of all, wasn’t that she felt emotions as intensely as the person who had experience them in the moment yes she could feel that true, but no she was feeling it as if she herself had experienced it which made it all the more devastating, which had brought her to the edge of her sanity more times and she would care to admit. Which is why she avoided hospitals, why she stayed away from any place that was often covered in anger or sadness because it was maddening when you felt like you felt something so strongly and believed it yet it wasn’t even coming from you. Fooled you and tricked you!
It will destroy you if you let it and she didn’t know how to deal with it except by hiding and isolating herself and such a small setting with only three other people in the world she could deal even with the intensity of the emotions she felt now she could recover but imagine just going to public school? She had so much was on the verge of breaking every day the library really was her sanctuary because it was so quiet it had to be quiet. The law demanded quiet, And those that came usually came and went fairly quickly and it was so big she could pick a different floor to be on if it was one of the more busy popular days or sections.
message 112:
by
Panic!AtTheWritingDesk, Creator of TheWritingDesk
(last edited Apr 14, 2019 05:35PM)
(new)
Mod
And weak she would not let herself be.
Drawing herself up and out of her shocked, pitiful state, she stood and cleared her head, taking in the room before her with renewed clarity. Small hiccups and gasping breaths greeted her ears, and her gaze was drawn at once to the figure resting before her, weeping in what seemed to be a fitful excuse for sleep. Perhaps if she shook the girl awake... but would she regret her actions afterword? Would she frighten the poor thing or, worse, inquire its wrath, whatever that may be?
Not that the winged girl seemed to pose much of a threat. It was just something that seemed to float in the spaces she occupied, heavy and suffocating, that pressed against Charlotte's chest and caused her apprehension.
Carefully, as gently as she knew how, Charlotte reached out and shook the recovering figure softly, hoping that everything would be alright if she did. That, perhaps, she could stop the girl's nightmares before she became to terribly scared.
---
Ash stood before the window of his bedroom, framed by the hazy glow of sunset, still playing and thinking, playing and thinking, waiting for the last rays to disappear on the horizon. Below, somewhere within the endless corridors and stairways, he heard Charlotte let out something akin to a yell, probably issued upon seeing Kim. Yes, it was likely that, as Terry had predicted, which made him chuckle softly and then frown all at once as though a serious thought had crossed his mind. Thought, however, had not: it was more of a strong feeling, somewhat of a premonition,
While he couldn't do anything superhuman like read minds or see the future, Ash still knew, somehow, that he was being thought about in a sad and weary light, as though he had dissipated completely, leaving the others to morn his loss.
"Charlotte," he though absentmindedly, brows wrinkling in concern, but he quickly pushed the feeling away, blinking at the sun.
Carefully, he lay his instrument to rest within its case, closing it tightly before stowing it under his bed where it had been for years.
Three years.
Not that he never played the violin. He did, excessively, every night, but it always ended up back where he had gotten it from, the wood boards where it rested rubbed smooth from constant use.
Not unlike the bookshelf in the library where the codex sat, waiting.
Ash raked a hand through his hair with a sigh, an absent gesture that he did when stressed or overwhelmed, an odd sort of comforting habit.
The book in his back pocket, the piece of paper. They might as well have been on fire, branded into his mind. He could have told Terry, but that... Well, that just would not do.
Some demons were best fought alone; preferably in the dark.
"Mom! Mom?!"
"Let him go..."
Silence.
Ash shook his head, hands carding through hair once again, shaking.
That had been years ago... Years and years.
And Charlotte had let him go.
Deep beneath the surface of the Earth, far away from home, chained by the wrists in some kind of cell, tortured day by day.
And she had let him go.
"She didn't... She hadn't known..." he thought again and again, but it wasn't true, and, deep down, he knew... he knew.
But why did he care?
Perhaps it had been the searing metal meeting flesh again and again, the insistent, endless demand to "just tell us", but what did the Clave want to know?
The question went through his mind a dozen times followed by a dozen different images:
Heretics forks, knifes, nails, collars, more chains.
"Tell us. Show us. Tell us..."
Starvation, electrocution, dry drowning, molten lead, the iron maiden, and still he didn't know, didn't know, didn't know.
What had they wanted...
"Just how evil are you?"
Thumbscrews, ropes, the rack, the Judas chair, the Catherine wheel, and still... still he hadn't understood.
Broken bones, scars, and many many iratzes to hide the evidence.
He still didn't know, not even now.
Training again and again and again, just so that Charlotte wouldn't know... so that promises wouldn't be broken...
Bones snapped again and again and again, every time he got a tactic wrong, every time they wanted something more.
And he had learned to block it all out.
He had stopped feeling, started killing; Stopped caring, and started flinching away.
As cold as the Northern Lights and twice as distant, he continued to stare out of the window, passive, hands running through his hair over and over again until, suddenly, everything stilled, every muscle, and he began to think that, maybe, catching some sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.
Just as he turned to fall into bed, he caught a glimpse of his reflection, pale and unsettled, the barely visible line of a scar flashing just under the line of his jaw on the right hand side. Once, it had been a deep, careless gash, cut through his jugular vein in the heat of another's anger when torture had proved fruitless. Sure, they had tried to make it disappear, but some wounds just wouldn't heal...
Charlotte was one of those.
He tipped his head up, absentmindedly, and glared at the line:
About four inches from meeting the left corner of his jawline, running in one percises, straight line to meet the right side where his jaw met his neck: hidden beneath the edge of his mandible on a regular basis.
Hidden, just like the rest of his wounds.
Stretching his arms out, he let himself fall backward and hit the mattress with an indignant huff.
This must’ve been the hour for nostalgia as Terry his self was thinking about how he came to be here, anger loneliness and resentment or the driving forces and his emotions turned into action as he cooked, and cooked, and cooked some more. What do they want to do it or not he was making a feast not just a breakfast or lunch. This wouldn’t be the first time he had gone crazy in the kitchen just making things not that anyone complained of having all the leftovers it made it easier and they seem to like his cooking well enough. The cooking was his therapy, something constructive to do with the distractive desires within him. There was another reason he was afraid, they wanted to turn him into a warrior and slowly and surely they were but… That’s what scared him he had so much frustration and anger so much desire to destroy and he tried so hard to turn it into something good his artwork that he would do from time to time cleaning insurers cooking, cooking did seem to be his biggest passion creating something out of a mess.
No that was the story of his life, he was a mess always had been and probably always would be but even a mess could have some kind of order and beauty to it when used properly or at least creatively. Memories of his older brothers absentee father, the daily abuse finally running away the people he had thought I had become a family on the street but they weren’t. He was just so scared all of the time. Would he ever not be?
—-
Kimberly was not doing well, three people. Three people and their emotions, they memories, and her blessing and a curse of an ability made her feel it all. and even if the three around were able to control themselves to not allow themselves to feel it so much. Her curse was to feel it just such intensity that her body wanted to snap and her mouth wanted to scream, but she never dead. Instead it was that familiar feeling of dying a little inside.
Someone wanted to ask her one time how she could be so cold, it was funny because she was not cold. She was hiding. There was a big difference she had given up the only money she had to help someone who had no food she had face her fears time and again to do things to help people in need all like some comic book superhero who did good deeds and then retreated back into the darkness wanting no it knowledge meant wanting the attention just wanting to hide from the people that caused her such pain.
In the end she was actually very gentle soul, and loving to a level that borderlines naïveté. Her greatest weakness, animals. So in the natural her torment was only shown by whimpers shaking panicked breathing and grinding of her own teeth as a straining at some invisible force crushing her. Yet as she was shook, her eyes bolted open as if she had been struck and though it probably wasn’t smart and with no consideration or knowledge of the wings she forced yourself away from the person instantly falling from the bed but landing in the low Crouch not exactly gracefully but not hurting her self. The funny thing is she probably should’ve broke her wing with the way she moved but one shielded her front, while the other spread upward, as if ready to fly up and try and take off but instead ended up brushing the wall her eyes were wild looking like a trapped animal pet been taken from its home. She was confused and being suffocated by the lingering emotions in this building.
She registered that someone was there near her but she didn’t know who it was and they didn’t seem to be attacking, she stayed in her position breathing heavily.
((Aww! Poor guy! ;-;))
Mod
"You were having a nightmare... Some sort of bad dream..." Charlotte attempted, trying to explain her actions without seeming like a threat or a creepy stalker, "I was just... I felt bad... and Terry should be back any minute with some soup if you would like some..."
She felt like asking the girl what she had seen, what she had felt, even what her name was, but she got the feeling that this may not have been the opportune moment.
Poor Terry, cooking in the kitchen alone, doing all of the work...
Charlotte shook her head, clearing the thought.
She was not walking out of this room again.
Such actions would prove futile and shameful, as everything seemed to take place whenever she walked away.
***
Ash woke from short-lived sleep, bleary-eyed and a bit confused, coated in a thin sheet of sweat.
The oddest dream...
Kim. Yes, he was quite certain that all of this had to deal with her, but he wasn't sure how...
Shaking his head, he went to his window and lifted the glass, sliding down the roof, stopping at the very edge, just at the last second.
Staring down at the street, several stories below, he spread his wings and leaped, hoping that the night air would give him some answers.
Though, if he were honest, people would probably serve him better.
Kim when she realized she wasn’t to be attacked, wasn’t being threatened by this stranger. However slowly her eyes went to the wings, not seeming shocked, or surprised, but that was until she heard the words. “I... I’m awake?” Her legs trembled slightly. “I’m not still dreaming?” She gauged her surroundings in disbelief. She had seen these wings before, but not in the waking world. In dreams. One of her many strange dreams. Then there was a flash, a fragment. The man, calling her name, she standing on a hill looking down at an army. Slowly she rose, bracing herself on the corner she had put herself in. “Where ... Who are you?” Manners did mot need to come from her, this was the second time
She awoke in this room And something was different. Before the ooze and the ashes. Now the black and white checkered wings.
Mod
"No," she confirmed, factually, "you're not sleeping. You had a bad dream is all. I'm Charlotte. We've met, though I never did catch a name to which you may belong."
For a moment, she paused, contemplating her next choice of words.
"May I ask what it was that scared you so badly?"
***
The air was thick, weighed down with fresh petrichor and the promise of impending rain. The streets were wet beneath Ash's feet, the streetlights causing petty illusions and dancing shadows to flit across the water's surface, reflecting the world in a distorted, oil-slicked manner. His boots slid several times, the metal-cleated soles catching the rough asphalt with an unpleasant scraping noise, and he vaguely felt the need for a fresh stability rune.
Vaguely.
So, instead, Ash zipped up his leather gear jacket, pulled the hood over his head, and hid behind an Airinum mask, hunching his shoulders against the wind, following the street to...
Where, exactly?
He didn't know.
Slowly, he let out a shaky breath, plunging his hands into his jacket pockets, refusing to let them come into contact with his hair which was, conveniently, covered.
"Not nervous. Not upset. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm..."
Over and over again, the thought ran through his brain until he believed himself, and his hands lay comfortably in their prisons, not daring to escape.
Silently, he continued on, relying on the shadows of the night, drawing comfort from the darkness, every noise catching his ear, every movement attracting his eye. He was a weapon, designed to target and kill things, to protect what mattered to him the most.
The swords and knives were just precautions.
101 ways to kill someone with chopsticks? A rock? A fist? A handful of dust?
Shadowhunters knew them all.
Which was nice...
When fighting.
Which brought his thoughts circling around to Crow.
He was out here, somewhere, and, despite his demonic nature, could be quite the helping hand at times. That is, when he wasn't craving the sight of Ash's blood spilled throughout the streets.
So, where was he?
Probably visualising pools and pools of ruby liquid in the road after he had lost Kim, but...
Ash sighed:
Demons were a pain.
((yes? no? idek anymore... XD))
Kim didn’t remember meeting this woman, but that really wasn’t a surprise. She was bad at remembering people most of the time. “Kimberly... Kim.” She answered in kind. After all she had been given the other persons name. Though it was a dangerous word that was used after that. “Afraid?” Her tone changed, defensive. “Why would you say I’m afraid?” Ironically it was fear that made her make the statement. Worry of what could happen if she was indeed ‘vulnerable’, too many peolle in the world, wanting to take advantage of others. “I need to go.” She decided to proclaim as she stood straight, but those wings... the orphanage... oh this was all so very bad!——
Crow was indeed a trouble maker, he liked blood, torture, and most importantly pretty little things sent to his masters for favors and good status. Yet, now he decided to have fun while playing detective. He had tracked the girl’s scent with a hell hound to the library. Slowly murdering everyone inside. Conveniently placing a sign that the library was under renovations, allowing him to torture each and every woman that worked there. He killed any men he found, but the women... well they weren’t so lucky. The men got a mercy in comparison. When he finished. He decided to leave a message for the girl, written in blood along a bookshelf.
See you at home.
He had learned of the Orphanage and that was where his fun would really begin!
Mod
In hindsight, she probably should have elaborated.
And so, bluntly, she did.
"Kim," she began, trying for the girl's attention, explaining in the most straight-forward way she could, "I think that, maybe, what is disturbing your sleep is related to what is happening to you in the waking world; why a group of demons may be after you. So, if you could, I see it within reason to try and recall the events of your dreams in attempt to asses them."
Charlotte sighed.
Not only had that been a lot to say, but it had been difficult to explain. She still wasn't sure that her motives stood clearly either, but she would have to hope that they did.
"As for leaving," she continued wearily, as though she had undergone a long and strenuous desert journey, "I would advise against it. While I cannot hold you here against your will, nor can any other shadowhunter, demons and other downworlders may not be so generous. The decision is yours to be made."
Now silent, she awaited the girl's reply.
***
Ash wondered about, almost blindly, until he stumbled upon the library. Terry had wanted him to grab a book, go to the mundane library...
Better earlier than later... Though it would have been fun to go together... But the book in his pocket, the odd symbol... A little bit of research wouldn't hurt. And they could still go when the sun rose... Ash would just drink a lot of coffee...
Smirking, he walked to the front door and stopped:
"At this time, the Library is under renovation. Sorry."
Raising a brow, Ash pulled out his stele and scrawled an opening rune on the door, not willing to risk the complications of lock, key, and alarm.
All of which could be avoided if you had the knowledge and resources to evade such things.
Thus, he slipped into the building with little complication, glamoured from mundane eyes, and began to roam the numerous shelves when a drop of blood caught his attention, glinting up at him like a freshly minted coin despite its relatively small size.
"Odd," he thought, continuing his quest until he came to a break in the shelving, his hands falling from his pockets to grab a seraph blade, ducking back behind the shelf and peering lightly around the corner, pressed against a row of books.
'See you at home' had been sprawled across the far wall in an alarming shade of scarlet, drying harmlessly in the dust filled air, tainting the smell of ink and paper with the rustic scent of iron.
And ichor.
Ash could smell it, wafting through the dense atmosphere like freshly poured tar on a hot summer day, but there was no cause for the demonic stench; no figure to pin it on.
Carefully, he replaced his unnamed blade, not daring to waste it on a non-apparent threat, and grabbed a bow instead, balancing its weight lightly in one hand while he grabbed an arrow with the other, fitting one weapon to the other automatically.
Careful, calculated, silent breaths.
Step out of hiding.
Walk toward the object of suspicion.
Neutralise the threat.
Except that there was no threat.
Besides a multitude of broken mundane bodies, nothing seemed to call attention to itself, to raise the hair on the back of Ash's neck.
Slowly, he walked among the bodies, checking each for the signs of life.
An image shot through his head then: Crow, a dagger, night air, and Kim.
"Found you," he thought, nearly chuckling when he realised just who had made the mess, but why?
Sure, he was after Kim, but 'see you at home'?
Where was home, exactly?
Thinking back, Ash could only remember one thing:
'I was looking for an exit.'
The voice, haunting and shallow, scared.
Like a frightened deer.
'I'll be in trouble if I don't get back soon.'
But where had she been headed? Back to where?
Cautiously, Ash continued his search through the bodies, hoping that one of them could provide an answer.
Even if it was carried on their last breath.
((Warning trigger content near the bottom. Possibly skip the second from last paragraph))Kim stared at her, this girl conducted herself like someone from one of her medieval books. Her mannerism and way of talking seemed outdated almost not that she came off as someone from another time but there was just something about her obviously different and how she conducted herself. With a click clear of her throat she decided to just answer bluntly. “When I’m around people I dream dreams OK. Always have, they’re hard to remember and the more like impressions. I saw someone chained another person grieving. Darkness and flame blades fists dark water. And intense sadness and loneliness. Horrible fear and regret anger, all consuming anger and misery and loneliness.” Funny that she said loneliness twice but that was the one that stuck out the most. Maybe because she herself felt it so strongly the majority of the time. “ you say you won’t make me stay but your statements told me that if I leave I’m in danger it’s hard for me to tell if you’re sincere or manipulative.“ She decided blunt honesty was the way to go since this woman was more well spoken and then the other two boys she met. However Kim‘s throat felt parched and tired she normally didn’t do this much talking singing was one thing. Talking... no she was more one for reading writing and thinking.
——
Crow had slaughtered anyone that actually knew where the girl lived which was only one person. The one who hired her of course that person was in among the bodies, where they’re still breathed A small child. Not long for this world. “M-mommy...” came the voice of the little boy. he was penned by the pile of bodies he had apparently managed to crawl out most of the way but didn’t have the strength to go any further his little body trembling as one arm was outstretched towards the office at the opposite end of the library. Where the main man had took his mommy. Sadly it would be a few more heartbeats and then he would crumple to move no more.
The office door left askew. Inside the poor woman obviously the boys mother but also the matron of this library and the one who hired Kim was strung up by her intestines like a noose.
Thankfully The woman was dead, suffering no longer. The room a complete mess of blood and all of the files ransacked. But the file folder that held the employee information from the locked cabinet which had been broken had an empty folder holding Kim‘s full name on it. Yet it was empty, crow had gotten what he came for.
((OK I just upset myself with this post ;-; ))
message 120:
by
Panic!AtTheWritingDesk, Creator of TheWritingDesk
(last edited Apr 26, 2019 05:51AM)
(new)
Mod
Ash jumped.
There had been a sound.
Small, yes but...
His eyes scanned the darkness and landed on the figure of a small boy, mortally wounded. One arm outstretched, he gave Ash his answers:
"Mommy."
There would be nothing left; not if Crow was truly gone.
Slowly, he replaced his bow with a witchlight, opting for better vision, and walked toward the tiny, crumpled figure, letting his wings extend as he drew near.
True, he was no angel, but one could pretend.
Carefully, he cradled the child in his arms, shielding them both from the word with a black wall of velvet, checking for vital signs. Light played over the boy's features as Ash searched, and then...
There had been a small flutter; a tiny breath.
He was gone now.
With a sigh of relief, Ash moved toward the only room left ajar and unexplored. Boy in tow, he surveyed his surroundings before unstringing the dead woman and resting her child in her cold, lifeless arms.
He had been about to mutter a few valiant words:
"Ave atque vale."
'Hail and farewell, my brother.'
But these were not shadowhunters, these were not his brothers, so, instead, he simply stood and walked away, noting an empty file upon the desk:
Kimberly Guardian.
He picked it up, pocketed it, and headed back the way he had come, grabbing a copy of 'Green Eggs and Ham' on the way out.
---
Charlotte blinked.
"So it's a feeling with short bursts of images. Like memories, or visions?"
She honestly wanted to know, intrigued now, knowing that, somehow, her hypothesis had been right.
But how?
Why?
Charlotte shook her head.
"I cannot make you stay," she repeated, her words ringing true, "but there are... well... not people... and they're out there looking for you."
At that moment, a sound went through the room, a great clanging from the entryway, and, within seconds, the infirmary doors flew open.
"By the angel!" Charlotte couldn't help but gasp, but her cries were all but ignored by the figure whom had entered.
"Zadkiel," she continued again, this time with much more composure, "where in Heaven's name have you been?"
It was an old habit of hers, motherly instinct, but, again, her words were tossed aside.
Instead, Ash simply walked straight up to the winged girl, covered in blood and guts, gear torn, and withdrew a file.
"Where is 'home'?" he asked, and his tone sent shivers down Charlotte's spine.
Where, indeed, had he been?
((I’m sorry!!! *Hugs* oh my stories do things like this :-( ))Kim shook her head and rub the back of her neck not because she didn’t know what to say but because it was hurting. I sort of stiffness and aggravation there. “Not visions, not really more like impressions given puzzle pieces. It’s frustrating and difficult to figure out.“ She didn’t know how else to explain it wasn’t like anyone had ever explained anything to her no she was just stuck trying to figure things out as she went. I have had visions before though they just typically come while I’m awake the dreams…” She struggled for words which left an opportunity for the woman to speak again and rendered anything she might’ve said completely unimportant. She took in the form the blood that disgusting nature of his state and then the file. That hand writing because the woman who had hired her always just insisted on handwritten files and not labeling even though it was cleaner and easier to read. Her heart went into her throat true they weren’t exactly friends or family, but they were the closest thing to it. She was getting overwhelmed, and yet that never stopped her. He asked a question and immediately she was up to her for height wings instinctively falling behind her as if she had always had them. Because in fact she had, in her dreams that is.
She didn’t answer at first but move to brush past the Charlotte woman. “The orphanage...” and unless someone tried to physically stop her she was hell-bent on getting out of here. “Where is the exit?!” Wasn’t that she was angry but everything about her mannerism shifted, perhaps making it more clear why her wings might’ve been salt and pepper before she had seemed a bit like an angel innocent with the blonde hair and blue eyes somewhat gentle way of speaking even if she could force her self to be cold. But now there’s a furious fire burning within them and she looked ready to for Murder.
She didn’t have to ask him what happened, he had gotten out at the library and that meant some atrocity had happen there she didn’t want to know what in part that she needed to know right now she had to go to the orphanage. As mean as the caretakers were there there was still children they are younger than her, much younger. What if?
Mod
Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
The girl had visions and prolific dreams that were difficult to understand yet, surely, had to mean something.
But that was not why she was really confused.
"Ash!" she snapped, quickly, like someone shouting commands to a dog, trying to get their attention, "What in the world is going on?"
She wanted an explanation, and she wanted one now.
***
Ash had been just about to grab the handle on the infirmary doors when, suddenly, his nickname cracked through the air in an all too familiar tone of voice.
Slowly, he turned and glared.
He said nothing, did nothing else, and simply left the room, headed for the front doors of the institute. He knew Kim would come with, anticipated it even, and, while he disliked the idea, he had bigger things to worry about. That, and he needed directions to this 'orphanage'.
Mundanes were odd creatures.
"Coming?" he called, and opened the doors onto the pitch-black night.
((hope this is good enough :) it was a bit rushed, as I have a lot of homework to do because I went to a horse show over the weekend and now i'm a bit behind XD But, I did win all of my western pleasure classes and one of my speed events... had a 10 second figure-eight gaming pattern to take home that one... and took the skin off of my palm XD but it's all good... XD))
(( you totally do that! I wanted to cry with one of the last post about poor Ash and Charlotte and how he grew up ))Kim ignored the other girl and her shouting and followed after Ash with surprising speed. She was on a mission now, though she had never been trained like him her own guilty conscience was more than enough to motivate her to act like a soldier going in the combat. No sooner had to open the doors then she was at his shoulder falling him outside.
She would never use these wings but, she supposed that would be the fastest. “Any tricks I should know?” Even though she asked she spread them not even caring if anyone saw her though not making a point to go out into the brightest spot move them as if one would stretch their arms from being cramped and with one massive push down words launched her self up as if she had always done it. Just like my dreams… There were something terrifying about that but also exhilarating, the feeling of rushing up word. Spreading her wings wide instinctively and moving to glide a mix of adrenaline and fear colliding, she wasn’t sure she could stay in the air but she wasn’t patient enough to take any precautions. Nor did she think they had the time. The moonlight shimmering of the feathers which because of their black counterparts made her wings almost look like they had holes in them through which you could see the night sky , Or perhaps it made her wings blend into the sky itself the light part looking like twinkling stars.
((No yours are wonderful as always I feel like this one wasn’t so good on my end because just something about it seem to fall flat))
Mod
Charlotte, despite having protested, knew there would be no way to stop Ash or, for that matter, Kim. Both had the haunted expression that came particular to one beyond reasoning, one having seen terrible things, and she knew better than to get in the way.
With a heavy sigh, she rose from her position and exited the room in order to find Terry.
At this point, it would be hours before the soup he had likely already prepared would be eaten.
***
Ash slipped through the door, feeling the cool night air on his skin, watching Kim catch up out of the corner of his eye. He didn't stop for her, didn't slow his pace. She seemed, as many angered individuals, to be on a sort of adrenaline-induced war path. Thus, she caught up quickly and, no sooner had he heard her question, then she was up in the air, wings spread like an avenging angel except that, well, there were the black, night-sky colored feathers casting great holes through their blindingly white counterparts, competing for attention. For a moment, the sight was oddly and ethereally beautiful, but Ash blinked, and all semblance of beauty seeped away from the image, like water pulled toward a bigger, brighter ocean.
Beauty never graced one moment for very long. It was always shifting and shying away, headed to greener pastures.
Ash decided that, perhaps, that was what photos were for: if used properly.
Nobody wanted to let go of the beautiful moments in life.
Ash would rather watch them pass.
Not because he didn't appreciate them, but he felt that it was better to live in that moment, to see it for yourself rather than staring at it through an artificial lense. It seemed ridiculous, but...
His shoulders ached, protesting their assignment as warden, but Ash was too tired to care, had opened the cage doors too many times in one day.
Birds could only fly for so long after all, and everything had to sleep at some point or another.
Sighing, he ignored his own rational thought and lept to the air, catching a current with outstretched, tired wings.
"Where to?" he asked, for once not knowing the exact location of his next mission.
Great.
((Nah. It doesn't fall, it just gets... suspended?.... I guess?.... It's like dramatic and flarey and then it just kind of stops and floats off... suspended. Sometime, though, it's had to give an rp weight because you don't know how the other person is going to react. I totally get the feeling XD but I think it's great, as always. ^-^ you give your characters so much life and energy that they're really... alive? i guess? i can't find words XD but it's great. really. ^-^ Also, sorry this took so long, but life sometimes... XP Ya' know? XD))
(( most definitely it did! I almost got too emotional that I was going to have to take a break from answering before I could compose a proper response and I did indeed take a short break LOL (-; ))Terry By this point had some parts of the meal done other parts akin to a feast, Being created. He seem to have no semblance of time or any reason to stop and they had storage containers the food that he made was good reheated, so there was no logic that could’ve swayed him to stop anyway.
—
Kim glanced back at Ash. For a moment she seemed a bit off-balance, which was amusing but only now she was off-balance, but it was the side of him next to her looking like some sort of old testament angelic warrior. Like the ones she had seen the artwork for and one of the library books. His question however quickly snapped her into hundred percent focus again. “This way.“ And with another blast of her wings she took off like a rocket, she was and half of the days I still felt so much like a dream, one of the many dreams she had. The wings work the same everything seemed the same. Yet this was reality? So many thoughts and questions move through her mind as she continued her mission towards the orphanage. Rising and falling, catching the currents and using them to her fullest advantage as if she had been doing this her entire life. Though in all fairness she had, just not in the waking world. From height and the advantage that flying gave it wasn’t long before she could see the neighborhood.
“Here.“ Yet she didn’t go straight for the orphanage but one of the neighboring buildings just a little bit away she knew a secret way into the orphanage. Of course she live there she knew every inch of that place including some secret exits thanks to cracks in the foundation and mischievous children over the years. She circled slightly and she went down for a landing on top of particularly tall neighboring building. her mind catching up to the moment, she needed to get inside but she just rushed in whatever had caused him to look so bloody could happen to her. She needed to be smart. “If only I could do what I do in my dreams...” She muttered to herself. Thinking of the amazing sword she would use, someone from nowhere. That enabled her to fight.
((Aww, I love the way you put it :-) it certainly makes me feel so much better about it LOL. Yeah I know exactly what you mean there’s almost a little bit of a hesitance behind each role play post because there’s an uncertainty of how your partner is going to react unlike in a story that you’re in control of both sides of the equation.
By the way no big deal, I’ve hardly been on at all. So it was a welcome sight to see your post ^_^ ))
message 126:
by
Panic!AtTheWritingDesk, Creator of TheWritingDesk
(last edited May 09, 2019 06:48AM)
(new)
Mod
Charlotte entered the kitchen, following an array of pleasant smells to their source, where an overabundance of food sat, cooled, and cooked. Slowly, she scanned the area and grinned, shaking her head.
"Terry," she inquired, her tone somewhere between caution and inquiry, "were you planning on cooking for an army?"
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a tiny voice told her that she should be asking more, knowing Terry as she did, that something must be bothering him, but if he wanted to talk about it he would.
In due time.
***
The night air tugged at Ash's wings as he followed Kim, eyes trained on the spot she had pointed to far below. It appeared to be nothing more than a simple building, residential or business-like he couldn't tell, but the building next to it...
Was that where Kim had spent time?
It looked like a place run by two grouchy, old, ashen-skinned, evil, cat-loving old ladies...
Not to be confused with normal old ladies.
Point was, the place looked foreboding and motheaten, probably containing a dozen spiders and a hundred centipedes within its walls as well as a couple of dead bodies in the attic.
Curriosly, he watched his companion angle off in an arch, landing at the top of the building she had pointed at earlier. Slowly, he followed suite if only to devise and share another plan.
Carefully, he planted his feet on the building's surface and walked over to Kim, staring at the building across from them. Vaguely, he wondered where Crow was, what he was thinking, and that sparked an idea. Silently, he stepped off of the ledge as though he were walking off of a porch-step, going to take a stroll down some deserted, winding road somewhere out in the countryside.
Asphalt rose to meet him, and, at the last second, he spread his wings to glide smoothly to the side of the adjacent building, balancing on a particularly thin window ledge before bidding his feathers farewell and reaching over his head to grab at a slightly thicker, sturdier ledge above him. This one, he quickly decided, would make a nice sidewalk and, thus, began walking its length, peering into every window he passed. Eventually, he was bound to catch sight of a familiar figure...
His foot slipped, metal grading across concrete for a fraction of a second before steadying again, and he silently thanked the angel for stability and voyance runes all at once, noting that the line which he now walked was barely wider than three of his fingers.
Inching forward, finding balance, he began his treck again, step-by step, as though he were walking down the street and not on the ledge of an orphanage, suspended four stories from the ground which was nothing when compared to the heights at which his body could fall before suffering any real damage. From here, he might break an arm or a leg, but if he wanted to die... Well, he'd have to add a few more digits to the number of floors on the building he now scaled, which still had landings above to be explored, each with an array of windows.
Ash could only hope that it wouldn't take too long to find Crow.
Every once in a while, he glanced back at Kim, a shadowed figure across the way, and made a small gesture as if to say, "wait." He knew, somehow, that she was unlikely to do so for very long, seeing as the only family she had ever known was in this rotting box, but, for now, she would have to trust him. He wasn't going to let Crow hurt a bunch of mundane children, an act which was highly illegal, and just stand by and watch...
No.
There would be an explosion of glass and heavenly light standing in the demonoid's way, and then the time for waiting would be over.
For now, however, the lights stayed off, the rooms lay still, and nobody appeared to be home. So Ash continued his stroll, waiting for an invitation to come inside.
((^-^ writing is a challenge with little reward. But, the way I see it, the few rewards you do receive are usually the best you'll ever receive... lots of hard work XD
^-^ I'm glad to hear. I haven't been on a lot either, so I guess that makes two of us XD))
Terry blinked as if only just now realizing what he had done, he had told himself that none of this would go to waste and such but he had gone seriously overboard and not much was very clear. He blushed at the realization and looked around a bit and certainly deciding to put the last of his current meals on summer and begin putting things up not sure what to say to her.“Well apparently we’re turning into some sort of hotel right?” I came out more fighting then he would’ve liked it was supposed to come out joking. He set his jaw and pursed lips as he tried to keep us back to her feeling ashamed and confused.
——
Kim watched and whether it was surprising or not she gave a small gasp as he look like he was going to walk off the ledge of the building wings or not it was still a startling thing to see and she rushed to the ledge of the neighboring building watching and then again being astonished at this this man and what he was really capable of. When he just shoot for her to stay she rocked onto her heels her wings had already folded behind her even though they were so big she seem to have no problem keeping them they’re folded where they really weren’t in her way much.
Looking at the building and listening, it was too quiet. She narrowed her eyes staring at some of the upper rooms, way too quiet. True when they were just asleep it could be pretty quiet almost deafening Lee so. But this type of quiet… She wasn’t going to wait any longer, she quickly moved across the rooftop to the direction she had intended to go to begin with. Dropping through an air duct of a lot more difficulty than she had before thanks to the new additions on her back. However she managed fine not even hurting them though maybe shitting a feather or two. She carefully placed her palms and feet and shimmy down all the way is this vent lead several floors down and she hurried out of the vent through the stairs just behind a door.
She darted out racing taking a step two at a time until she ended up in the basement. There us where she would take the secret passage that led to the orphanage. However a horrible sight awaited her. A child, obviously not alive. Mutilated as if by a wild beast. Kim knee this child. Kara, one of the sweetest little girls she had ever known. One of the new kids, the ones she tried to keep safe, warn of others. Kim had taught her this path, said to only use it if in serious danger. Tears burned her eyes.
Kara didn’t suffer. She had studied enough crime and watch enough documentaries movies and shows about forensics to be able to tell the rest was done for show. She could hardly see the tears burned so bad. The trail of blood bled through the whole back into the mansio she had studied enough crime and watch enough documentaries movies and shows about forensics to be able to tell the rest was done for show. She could hardly see the tears burn so bad. The trail of blood led through the whole back into the orphanage. A trail, a trap...
Kim didn’t care, she covered the poor child with an old blanket from a corner. This was a sort of Sanctuary/clubhouse after all. And then she went inside.
((Too true! ^_^ love how you out it.
Oh my gosh great post as always!))
message 128:
by
Panic!AtTheWritingDesk, Creator of TheWritingDesk
(last edited May 11, 2019 07:49PM)
(new)
Mod
"Yes, it does seem like we've become quite the place of vacancy," she agreed, noting the tone to Terry's voice as he had called out the obvious. Something was bothering him, eating at him from the inside out, but Charlotte wasn't the kind to pry into other peoples' business. Instead, she proffered to be a steady and guiding presence; a listening ear only to those willing to speak.
If Terry wanted her to know, she would.
Sometimes, things were better left unexplored.
"I'll help you package some of this up," she offered, and moved to grab some Tupperware and tinfoil, grinning as a random thought passed through her mind.
With this much food, she wouldn't need to cook meals for...
A few days. At least.
"Thank goodness for all of this," she added, and motioned at her surroundings, smiling a rare and genuine smile.
***
Ash didn't have to wait long before he had found a sign of suspicion. Carefully, he made his way over to one of the last windows on the ledge and cocked his head, dubious at to why it had been cracked open while the rest were shut, though the gap was barely big enough for his fingers to slide beneath the pane, testing the hinges.
Stuck.
With a sigh, he tugged a bit harder, pulling at the frame, but it wouldn't budge.
So that's why it was open.
Reaching into his boot, Ash grabbed his stele, pressed the tip against the glass and drew, black ink spreading across the window's surface before vanishing, spent up as the window began to slide slowly open, creaking as it went. Stepping inside, he looked out to the landing where Kim had once stood and, again, sighed.
The girl had vanished.
After a quick glance across the rooftop and the street below, he quickly decided that, at some point, waiting had become too much for her and she had, predictably, gone inside of the orphanage to salvage whatever remained of her make-shift siblings.
Great.
The angel only knew how long it would be before Crow had his way, getting everything he had come to collect. The thought stood Ash's hair on edge, twisting his guts. Dimly, as if it were an echo of some other life happening at the bottom of some remote black obis, Ash could feel the knife dragging across his throat, the pain that followed. Other memories threatened to surface as well, but he pushed them down, drowning them in the darkened seas of his past.
Crow was probably bringing those memories into somebody else's life right at this moment, some pure, innocent little kid...
Ash strained his ears and listened to the heavy stillness and dusty dark around him.
Shadowhunter hearing was advanced, much like their reflexes, but, still, Ash heard nothing.
Again he listened, catching the scratch of settling dust on wood, the scuttle of spider's legs, but nothing more.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
Even with enhanced seances, Ash shouldn't have been able to pick up on such light sound-waves and, yet, the drop of a single feather would have been like an atomic bomb in the tomb-like stillness.
Whatever was going on here, it had to be on a lower level.
Slowly, after having etched a silencing rune on the heel of each of his boots, Ash crept into the hall, looking both ways at the lengthy, simple hall.
Dead end to the right, and stairwell on the left.
Left it was then.
At each floor, he found the opposite effect and, thus, ended up simply walking across a series of halls, listening as he went.
The ground floor, however, is where things got complicated. He had stepped out onto a lobby or, perhaps, a receiving area, and then wandered into what seemed to be a waiting room, a play room, a kitchen, a dinning room, a gym, and eaven a small theater area before he finally found another flight of stairs that seemed to lead to what could only be the basement.
Ajar only slightly, the door that obscured them from sight had instantly drawn his attention, posing as the perfect candidate. Whatever he was going to find had to be there, behind that door, down the flight of stairs, but he hesitated at the top, taking enough time to scribble a night vision rune onto his upper arm before descending, cat-like, into obscurity, unsure of what would entertain his eyes when he finally reached rock-bottom.
((I try... XD
And Thanks SO much! ^-^ Yours are brilliant too, and that one made me smile XD I just knew Kim would go in... ^-^ She has quite the spirit... XD Nice one (: ))
Kim nearly got sick she move through the small space/makeshift tunnel that led to the other basement, she always got squeamish when it came to the bugs and potential rat droppings and such. This time however was different and so much worse.The squishiness of the path she was scrolling through and the smell. She couldn’t see what she was moving through but she knew nonetheless. Though if it wasn’t for her kindling fury she might’ve given into sensation to vomit instead she moved quicker I don’t want to get out do you get to the cause of this abomination however nothing could’ve prepared her for the monstrosity that I waited her. The majority of the people piled up and arranged as if some sort of human body made throne.
Atop which Crow sat, smiling down at her. “At last...” However, He didn’t rise. Instead of the horrible sight became all the worse as he cradled a baby in his arms. “Little Benjamin didn’t think he would get here in time, but I had ‘faith’.” He mocked with a malicious chuckle.
Kim froze. Everyone was dead except for that baby, the only baby there at the orphanage. No! Every muscle was tight as bowstring. She couldn’t even breathe.
((Aww! ^_^ Thank you <3 Yeah she’s a stubborn, but loyal one XD ))
Mod
Ash descended the staircase in a daze, only able to concentrate on one thing as he neared the basement:
The ungodly smell of pooling blood and rotting entrails.
Human, if he had to guess.
Demons smelled much worse.
Wrinkling his nose, he moved forward, slowly, quiet as a mouse.
Unfortunately, what awaited him within the basement itself was worse than he had predicted. The bodies weren't just humans, they were children, innocent, hope-filled, love-deprived orphans.
And then there was the pedestal on which Crow perched, cradling a baby in a rather sinister sort of embrace.
For some reason, it only made Ash feel a deep sort of sadness, pity maybe, for the twisted creature.
He thought, then, back to his given name:
Lucifer Lux Zadkiel
Charlotte had been the grace behind such words, hoping for the best but expecting the worst, like most anyone else.
Lucifer the light bringer, the devil.
Lux meaning light, pure and heavenly.
And Zadkiel, the archangel of freedom, benevolence, and mercy.
Charlotte had told him why each was so, once, and only once:
"Lucifer was said to be the most beautiful and talented, the most perfect, of God's angels. He brought light and music, but he had his own ideas, his own path, separate from what was deemed as righteous, and he was cast out from the only home he had ever known, inherently due to his own evil. From the day you came to me they were set on your destruction, the section of your life, but such was not to be. You know that they shun you, condemn you to be evil, but I'd like to think that you would pick the light, beautiful side of what your name stands for. Thus, Lux, meaning 'light' in Latin, the eldest and, supposedly, most divine of languages. And, finally, Zadkiel for the mercy I hope you show us when you know true freedom; the benevolence I hope you will find within those who come to shape your life. And that is why you are named of angels and demons, good and evil, for the prince of darkness."
True, he hadn't understood it at the time, being only five years old, but he had come to respect such reasoning over time, knowing his bloodlines, nearly deeming it ironic when, alas, he had gained wings, the true mark of the angels. He understood it now, but that didn't mean he had to like it, accept it, bow beneath it. What was left of 'Zadkiel' was now an empty shell of a teenage boy, tempered in the forges of his people and burned within their furnaces.
And then there was 'Ash'.
He was much more interesting; less vulnerable.
But that didn't stop him from feeling that pang of guilt, like a slap in the face.
Lucifer: lord of Hell, commander of demons.
And here a demon sat, having taken the lives of many, and dared to take another. Possibly many more.
And Ash was behind him, shrouded in darkness, hidden in the shadows, waiting to send him back the way he had come, willing to make him pay the price for such devious acts. But Ash and Crow... Well, the two of them had been at each other's throats for a while.
It almost gave the moment a sort of sentiment.
Almost.
Carefully, Ash reached back and notched an arrow, leaving his bow angled at the floor, and stepped out of the shadows just enough for Kim to know that he was there; she wasn't alone.
Quickly, he made a motion toward his bow, pointing to Crow in the process, raising a brow.
He didn't want to hit the child, so he needed a clear shot, a distraction for Crow.
And a meracle.
One of those would be nice too.
Otherwise, he would likely witness the undoing of something far beyond his understanding.
And Ash didn't like being left in the dark.
Light, indeed,would be brought. In the form of vengeance for every child, every parent, every animal; every soul.
If this arrow got a chance to fly, it wasn't going to strike home. No, it was going to pin a murderer to a throne of the murdered and hold him there while he struggled against the poison of heavenly metal in his demonic flesh.
He was going to look into the eyes of an angel, two to be more precise, and tell them what he knew.
Then and only then would he be afforded the mercy of going back to Hell, if Charlotte didn't want to hand him over to the Clave first.
Torture might serve him well.
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," Ash though, fingers itching to let this particular bolt loose.
Kim wasn’t a warrior. Unless dreams and imaginations counted she was far from any sort of heroic figure. She was a little more than a child in many ways running from a world that hated her so far she was concerned. Told her she was nothing pointless and useless how disgusting mess and now a freak with wings that were black and white. Perhaps a symbol for all of the struggle for balance she had a character in her stories that she wrote how ironic how they were based from dreams and now those dreams seem to be coming a reality.The only piece of her family and her past she had was her name Kimberly, which meant from the Royal Meadow. But also had a spiritual connotation, and meant seeker of truth. Ironic that she ended up working in the library. Maybe because even before knowing the meaning of her name she sought out the truth of her existence of this world and most importantly whatever purpose she had.
She believed in God, believed in angels and demons she would have even had she not been exposed to such thing as younger through dreams and visions and seeing things other people couldn’t see. She was for when she had her first major counter with God and became a Christian. He was the only place that she didn’t feel rejected judged hated. There are plenty of people that’s claimed to be his children who are cruel to her hated her but all she had to do was read ancient scriptures to see that they were the ones who were fake. So it never threw her away from God just away from people.
Now in this moment it felt a bit of destiny was at hand, a choice she was supposed to make but didn’t know what to do. She saw Ash, but made no motion or sign of acknowledgement. Her focus remained trained on Crow, the murderer. “Coward.” The word shot out like a venomous dart. She managed to remain strong in this moment, some how distancing herself from the emotions that normally suffocated her. Her wings unfurled like a viscous bird of pray waiting to strike.
Crow’s smile faltered. “I knew you were special, but this...” He remained seated. “Though the credit goes not for me alone, but my friends as well. His eyes shone ruby red in the dark. “They saw you enter Ashy boy.”
At that moment two large serpentine demons moved to swirl around Ashes feet, moving to entangle him, snare him.
Two more moving to strike from behind. They were just pets, pets of his two friends. Succubi, the two which now emerged evil giggles emitting as they marched towards Kim, one on each side.
((It’s great! Sorry if this ruins anything you had in mind. Also feel free to talk for one of the succubus))
Mod
((Okay. And if you want we can brainstorm some in PM too))
message 134:
by
Panic!AtTheWritingDesk, Creator of TheWritingDesk
(last edited Aug 13, 2019 12:05PM)
(new)
Mod
“‘Ashy boy’?” he repeated, chuckling softly, “One could only disprove, Crow. They might think you had grown fond of me; a most unfortunate…”
He was cut off by the noise of scales on tile, nails on a chalkboard. Swiftly, Ash ducked, rolling backward toward Crow’s vulgar throne, losing an arrow to one of the serpentine figures.
Three still remained.
He shuddered inwardly, feeling electricity strum through his nerves, coiling up like a spring. He could feel memories rising up: the feeling of helplessness, the sting of being cut and bruised, the horror that had given him an odd scar. Beyond that, however, he could feel something else- something that the Clave had tried so hard to avoid. It was dark; black as a rising tide, suffocating. It was everything he had run from before, everything he had tried so hard to forget. A conscious choice between good and evil; an experiment with a twist.
Lilith’s blood was calling, thrumming through his veins like fire, making his stomach turn.
Vaguely, an image rose to Ash’s calling: an army of dark, writhing shapes racing to destroy the land; a bright figure upon a hill there to ward them off. A single white feather floated on the breeze, burning as it went, and Ash had an idea of who that figure was; who had been sent to save them all:
Kim.
But if that were true...
“It’s not her you’re looking for, is it? It’s me. It’s always been me, hasn’t it? Kim was just a girl who got in the way...”
Realisation filled Ash, a flashback to the day Kim had crossed his path. She hadn’t mattered then, besides as a special collectable for Crow’s boss, a souvenir. But, as Ash had taunted then, he had never taken Crow as the following type. Crow always had a plan, a way to wriggle out of the control of others. Likely, he only collected humans for fun.
That night, Kim hadn’t been the target.
Ash recalled a blade flying at him, Kim shoving him out of the way.
Crow had wanted him, not the girl.
Perhaps things hadn’t changed.
But now that Crow had seen Kim, saw what she was, would he let her go so easily?
Perhaps, Ash could get them both out of this alive.
Perhaps.
That infernal word that left all to the powers of the universe.
Undetermined.
((Will this work?))
((Definitely! Would you be willing to play some of the villains though? ))Kim stiffened as Ash was attacked, three demonic serpents. Slythering towards him. While the Succubi came on either side of her. A chill raced down her spine. She felt hot, strange. Sensations that were all at once similar and different. She couldn’t move, what could she do? Benjamin, that was who she focused on. The one survivor in this massacre. She looked at the baby, still in the demons arms. She didn’t know how, but she had to save him.
Crow chuckled. “I’ll admit, I always had a soft spot for you Ash.” His deviant grin grew. “I always felt a connection, practically taste that darkness you pretend isn’t just below the surface. Acting so righteous, but commit the worst blasphemy your clan could. ‘Pretending’ to be of the light when you really belong in the dark. You don’t even care about them. You just robotically do what you were programed to. Think about it, who are you more like? Them? Or us?”
“You did all of this to play Dark Sith Lord and win him to the darkside?” Kim’s eyes burned furiously. As she rose to her full height now. Practically ignoring the demons on each side. “Sick, disgusting, rodent.” In her left hand a dark energy seemed swirl, one that would feel familiar to the demons, while in her right, a light began to glow.
Crow’s eyes widened. “Stop her, Grab her!” The urgency was real, for he didn’t know what she was doing, but didn’t like what he felt.
Mod
Scales on tile, nails on a file; they were all and one the same as the serpents drew closer and Ash simply watched, trying to decide if killing them was a waste of breath. It may have been, but as one drew near and reared up to strike, it quickly found its head severed and lying on the floor which seemed to keep the others at bay for a moment, looking to their masters for instruction.
“I don’t pretend-” Ash began, but was cut off by Kim who seemed inclined to stay, if only for the child. However, that wasn’t the only thing that had halted his protests. Memories came quickly back to him: all of the times he was forced to be something he wasn’t.
For once, Crow was making a valid point.
And now Kim wanted to fry him with… Darkness? Light?
Both seemed to be at the girl’s mercy as she stared down at the ‘Dark Sith Lord’ with pure hatred in her eyes. It was like a painting, one of the tapestries that hung on the walls of the institute: a depiction of historic events.
The room seemed to freeze for a moment, silent and still, before Crow let out a shout and one of the Succubi moved to shove Kim aside but thought better of it, too afraid of its assailant's weapons: an amateur move. Crow, however, was not an amateur fighter, matching Ash in battle more often than either would be likely to admit. Despite his alarmed shouts, the demon would likely have no problem overpowering Kim, especially if he played his cards right and threatened the life of the child in his arms.
Ash could see how this would play out, and the outcome was not likely to appease either side of the appointed argument.
Quickly, he leaped from the ground, wings unfolding as he went, and moved to stand before Crow, shielding what he had once wished so wholeheartedly to destroy.
Pulling a seraph blade from his weapons belt, Ash glared at the girl, wishing for her to take the hint and leave, knowing that, otherwise, they would both wind up in Crow’s clutches.
“I think it’s time that you leave,” he finally, deliberately voiced aloud, averting his gaze from Kim to the object in his hand which, without being named, had begun to turn black and charred, vibrating with pent up energy. Experimentally, Ash threw forth a name, his own, borrowed from the passages of time, so quietly that he almost thought he had imagined speaking it, barely moving his mouth to speak.
As if by force, the blade began to crack, smoke, and smolder before light began to shine through the soot, the color of freshly spilt blood, before rising into flame, heat radiating from it in waves. Not the fire of Heaven, the golden light that flickered and moved like molten waters, shimmering with beauty and only burning what had been corrupted. This, whatever ‘this’ was, had been borrowed from the bowels of Sheol.
Ash stared at it in wonder before pointing it at Kim, dred filling his heart but not his eyes; he never was good at expressing emotions, only hiding them. Carefully, he held out an arm for the child, knowing the girl would be unlikely to leave without it, and hoped that Crow would be willing to hand the possession over.
One last act, one last moment of light, before all went dark.
Kim didn’t think, but reacted. The two energies that swirled around Her hands took form. Blades manifested one looking as if made of black steel, it was held reverse style in her left hand. A Strange aura surrounding the blade in that hand. While in her right hand a glowing white blade. Equal in length which were both more short swords easier to wield larger than daggers. Everything went off kilter. She was there but not there she felt strangely hot, as if a voice in the distance whispered her name. Her eyes closed her head tilted as she tried to comprehend what she was hearing and feeling. The power was Intense, and perhaps the best word would be seductive. It felt good but scary, her breathing slowed she was hardly aware that she moved it when the first succubus came for her a quick/from her left hand severed the creature and a half killing it instantly leaving a very unpleasant remnant behind.
However with her right hand she did not strike, but as if in a dance twisted, twirled and slashed the other Succubus slaying it as well neither one had the opportunity to command their pets, which slithered away. Nor could they touch Kim. She opened her eyes to look at Ash, they were unfocused. She wasn’t possessed, but she didn’t seem to be fully herself. Emotions were her strength, but right now those emotions were quite dark, stronger than ever.
Crow’s eyes widened. Seeing the girls summoned two weapons unlike any he had experienced in killing demons with one hit. It was unheard of even if she was unique and special he knew this girl was on trained, so how? “Your father...” He had heard stories, it was possible. This child, the powers she held.
He let his attention fix to Ash, this entire encounter was growing so much more intriguing. He relented and tossed the infant towards Ash, waiting to see what he would do. It was all just a game to him. Something to make life interesting, but if he could be the source of leading two powerful people into corruption, his influence would only grow!
Mod
True, he had wings, but that was likely his most extraordinary feature as far as he was concerned; other than being able to automatically speak any language he desired. As far a weapons went, he carried them with him: blades and daggers enhanced by angelic magic.
Yes, he could, evidently, bring forth extraordinary power in such objects, but parlor tricks did little against magic; something that Ash, as a shadowhunter, had been forbidden to use. Shadowhunters believed that magic corrupted the power of the nephilim, drained it, and, thus, Ash knew little of such things: much less if he possessed the power to influence such a force.
He blinked, watching calculatedly as Kim focussed her attention on him: her unseeing gaze, her brutal fury. She was not protecting, she was avenging.
Revenge was the most bitter medicine of all.
Once administered, the donner had to take a dose of their own.
It was hardly worth the waste of breath.
Catching the child and cradling him in one arm, Ash looked at the furious warrior before him and grinned: sharp, cutting… Evil.
Charlotte would have cried.
“Oh, come now,” he crooned, “you can’t have what’s already gone. Fight and kill as you will, but revenge is forever a two-way street, darling, and the traffic always goes back the way it came. You wouldn’t want me to kill this little parasite but, the point is, I can. And I will. Unless, of course, you took him with you and did as I’d asked.”
Ash didn’t know where the words were coming from, nor the voice that delivered them. Surely it was his own, but it was not. He could not explain why he had said these things, manipulative as they were, nor why he held fast to the notion that they were all true: Ash never lied.
He wanted to cringe.
This wasn’t fair, it wasn’t decent, and this wasn’t him.
But then, who was it?
And why hadn’t he known they existed sooner?
“If you move,” the voice amended, “I shal slash its throat.”
And, for the first time in thirteen years, a true smile cracked across the boy’s face.
Crow was delighted at what he saw, and felt. He Waited to watch this drama unfold, certainly not intending to let the girl get away but the strange power she just developed meant he should perhaps just send someone to follow her and take her when she slept with less of a threat.Kim’s eyes were unfocused, but a tangible jolt resounded in the room at the ‘parasite’ remark. She wasn’t fully gone, but not fully there. Her wings which had been perched like a bird of prey hung there, frozen in his words. What no one in the room knew was this new found power, was too much for her to contain.
Talking, standing, waiting. It was actually painful. She could not remain still much longer, the powers warred, untrained potential mixed with raw fury. There was a difference between revenge and wanting to avenge, yet she was stuck some place in between. A soft grunt came from her throat as she grit her teeth. Who, what am I? Alone, always. Another wave of that power, but this time the other side. The light of the blackness dimmed, the sword in her right hand glowed brighter. It’s silvery rays calming her.
Then something new happened. The wings on her back, they exploded in a massive burst of feathers. Swirling around the space like a snowglobe. Obscuring her from their vision. She was there one moment. Paralyzed. The next gone. Two swords, the left hand, the darkness being used for not evil, but justice. It was thrown, and struck Crow in the shoulder. Pinning the creature. It was intended to kill, but he moved. And screamed as he was pinned.
While the sword of pure light, was brought to bear on Ash and the child, a swooping slash, though Kim now reached with her free left hand to claim the baby. Who would be dead right? No. For the sword of light does not kill, it heals. Both physically, and in ankther way. Touching the heart and soul of the person It strikes. Innoway it could be described like this. Her rage vengeance and hunger for justice manifested in the sword of darkness twisted and intensified, while her right hand held the manifestation of the pure and innocent side of her. The side that had never been squashed despite all of the lies she believed about herself and feeling alone in this world there was always a childlike hope and innocence and purity. And it genuinely cared for everyone and some how Waging warring powers balanced on a Scale and pronounced judgment.
Even if Ash did move to hurt the child, he would be instantly healed at her slash, but the affect on Ash? What would that be? A does of pure loving heart? The power and desire to heal and protect, not for duty, but out of compassion and caring nature? A mothers love? A child's hope?
((This turned out different than I anticipated in many respects. I hope it is alright))
Mod
Sorry for taking so long to reply... just thought I would mention that I think your post is great and that it sits well with me. ^-^ Just SUPER busy with school on this end so my reply is in the workshop *aka Google Docs* XD
Many hugs,
P!ATWD))
((You’re fine! Thanks for reaching out, glad you liked it! ^_^ take all the time you need, eager to continue, but real life always comes first! *Hugs*))
Mod
The room grew still, silent, after Ash threatened the child; the calm before a storm. Kim, of course, had stilled in her actions, though there was effort behind the resistance, and Crow…
Well, he was doing what he always did:
Watching, amused, as the scene before him unfolded, acting as if he were in control.
It was like Ash had clicked ‘pause’ on a remote and, coincidentally, the world around him was the screen. He blinked, languidly, noting the thick particles of dust floating in the basement’s stagnant air. Grinning, he cradled the child tighter to his chest and brought the blade up, sensing what was about to happen: all that pent up energy was about to find an outlet.
Play.
The room is a swirl of white, like the softest of snows, and, as if from a great distance off, Crow is screaming in agony, pinned to his sardonic throne by a blade as black as the ichor that pooled in his demonic veins, and Kim is in the center of it all, ivory blade in hand.
Ash nearly purred in contentment, like a sadistic cat.
He knew what was coming next and, yet, he held his ground, raising a brow as the girl rushed him, reaching for the child and drawing her blade in an impressive arc. For a brief moment, Ash was reminded of the tapestries on the Institute's walls, the countless depictions of avenging angels. Letting out a breath, he moved his blade toward the child’s flesh experimentally, hearing it sizzle and burn, but he made no further move.
He knew what it was like to drown in a pool of your own blood, silently screaming for someone, anyone, to save you as you fought to draw impossible breaths.
“Let her save the child,” the voice hummed, scheming, even as Kim’s blade drew nearer and nearer.
Ash felt the child be yanked away, just as a sharp, dull pain began to spread through his left shoulder. The world seemed to speed up then, a whirlwind of sound and color as his blade fell to the ground and he hit his knees, staring at the sword in his chest as though he were studying an insect he had never seen it before; as though being stabbed was something that was only a mild shock to one’s system.
“Get rid of it,” the thing instructed cooly, but Ash only furrowed his brow and looked toward Kim, like an inquisitive child. He knew that if he expelled the blade he would only deal more damage and bleed out much faster than if he were to leave it be…
“Get rid of it!”
The voice was frantic now, screaming, and, as if on puppet strings, Ash’s hand flew up to the hilt of the sword and pulled, slowly, wrenching it free before tossing it to the ground.
Coughing, Ash reached to cover the wound in his chest, spitting out the scarlet foam in his mouth, and allowed himself to fall backward into oblivion: a comforting sea of black.
Kim held the perfectly healed baby in her arms. The poor child crying, but then quieting, falling asleep. The blades power was delayed, in this place of darkness and death, but it was not stopped. Kim began to tremble. It was too much for her, but she stood. Crow sensed his imminent Demise and with a last ditch effort Moved, letting the blade that pinned him slice, cut and severe his body until he was free and then he left, using the last of his power to run away. “I won’t forget or forgive...” He hissed as he vanished into blackness.
And Ash? Well the blade had been delayed in effect, but now, whether he liked it or not, pure love. Pure goodness, pure light. Engulfed him. The reason she had used that sword on him, was it couldn’t kill, or destroy. Only heal. Even the damned.
But he was not that, he was not evil, the struggle within him was real and he was still good too. His body would begin to heal, not just the fresh wounds, but any lingering old wounds, perhaps even some scars vanishing. Yet that would be nothing compared to what he would have happen to his heart, mind, soul.
Many people experience such horrific things and nightmares. I lose hope in humanity or even in the humanity with in themselves they can’t see the light can’t feel the good don’t allow themselves to love or recognize that they are loved. In the truth when they do these things when these things are done to them their souls are locked and a dark sale of pain suffering misery sorrow. Their own personal hell, that they carry with them wherever they go. This sword is a key it strikes through bone marrow joint but also soul and spirit. It divides to the core. And in that moment as its power and goals and consumes one is washed with the purest of love, with kindness with mercy with compassion with the feelings a child should have a mother tells them that no matter what they’ve done they will always be loved.
It puts into perspective every act of goodness done towards them and amplifies it 100 fold, because just as darkness hides from the light the light banish is the darkness making it small insignificant in the darkness hast to hide run flee.
Will the darkness and a soul cannot fully be purged, introducing this light brings balance back in order. For that is what the weapon symbolize, her wings symbolize. Balance. To a soul balanced in favor of darkness it restores order to a soul of light it just heals already what is there. Like the innocent child who knew no evil or darkness. For Ash, he would be washed with compassion and love, all the things he had been denied. Maybe painful at first however it wouldn’t stop, it would even replay his childhood and any small act of kindness any good thing would be amplified again and again, because it’s so easy for darkness to drown out the memory of light, but now it was being brought into balance as if words being spoken, Reminding him of the good, of love of compassion and empathy. Kim’s gift and curse. Abundant empathy, she blocked it as much as possible but now in this form in these wings she couldn’t restrain and so she couldn’t stop.
However as he went through this with her it was a transformation, a torture Followed by healing, or what. As the sword worked to restore sanity, reason love... Even if it couldn’t change personalities, it could cause a paradigm shift on one’s outlook in life.
Kim grew weaker and it was a good thing Crow fled. She held the baby with shaking arms, but she couldn’t walk. Tears flowed down her face, the wings on her back melting away in a flurry of feathers. Not gone or destroyed, but having fulfilled their duty for now. She was similar and different from Ash, but she was no warrior. A beginner who possess enough power to Do something astonishing, but then depletes all her energy in a short amount of time. Hopefully the sword of light had brought Ash back from the edge, Staved him from evil and madness, gave him the balance in his heart, mind and soul he needed to continue living and maybe seeing some purpose in it more than ‘mission’. Otherwise, Kim may perish at the had of a man who had saved her once, and now she tried to save...
((It’s good to see you!
It’s hard to get things just The way we like them.
I’m trying to avoid power-play but this is what her weapon does))
Mod
A woman’s voice, soft and airy, floated through the void, sing-song and abundantly happy.
“Zadkiel, where did you go to now? You really are impossible to find…”
Footsteps drew near, coming toward the darkness before fading away on a light string of laughter. Smiling, a young, dark haired boy reached out and pushed open the heavy wooden door before him, padding lightly down the hall after the voice, excited to have succeeded. Sneaking up behind the woman, he reached for her hand.
“Found you!” he shouted excitedly, grinning from ear to ear even though he was supposed to be the one hiding.
“Yes, you did!” the woman responded, chuckling slightly before she disappeared; washed away by a wave of inky black, drown by the tide.
A light, silvery substance spread like dust across the black, churning surface… almost as though it had lost its self at sea… taking her place. It tasted absolutely dreadful- bitter, acrid, like iron and spoiled meat- the stuff in the glass. It turned water into hot, molten lead, transforming it into some form of potion, some kind of medicine, that would rather have been done without.
One black brow raised.
The other fell.
Blue eyes squinted.
They looked into the mirror, taking note of the sorrowful young woman in the background, her brown hair and stern expression softened by guilt.
She hated to make him do this, the dark haired boy knew.
He watched the powder swirl throughout the glass, tainting everything it touched- turning it an odd shade of silver.
Slowly, he raised his cup- watched the light dance across its polished surface- before tilting the glass back and swallowing with a grimace.
The cup met the wooden vanity with unnecessary force, shattering the somber silence.
The woman in the mirror only seemed to grow more distant with every sip of liquid he took.
His eyes were pailing, flashing in the same odd color as the drug, his hair beginning to take on the same quality.
Once, it had been black; curling in gentle waves across the boy’s head.
A tear slipped down the woman’s cheek, unnoticed, and the darkness fell with it, sweeping her away with the efficiency of a quickly moving river, dripping down around the boy to form stagnant, stinking pools at his feet.
The water was everywhere- all around him- frigid and unfiltered; wracking his emaciated figure with violent shivers that seemed strong enough to rattle his teeth.
He wanted to go home.
Chains wound his wrists and ankles, binding him to the darkness.
To the damp, the cold, and the pain.
His head hung low, tired and heavy, and his shoulders sagged.
He prayed to the angel; to Raziel himself, creator of the very first shadowhunters.
A light came.
The children of angels stood behind it, their runes and weapons glinting in a familiar, reassuring manner, but their presence was far from comforting. They were like a pack of hungry, inquizitive hyenas, chomping and cackling beneath their seemingly unassertive exteriors.
The boy cowherd backward, curling into a tight ball, hoping they would leave him be, turn their heads and let him lie in the dark.
He had not prayed for their pitty.
Their currious gazez.
Their disgusted looks of scorn.
The light came closer.
Voices rose.
The boy let out a small noise, a mere croak, and the hyenas began to cackle, edging ever closer.
He prayed harder.
For home.
For the woman in the mirror with the invisible tears.
The hyenas left.
The water dripped.
Hours passed.
Hands hauled him to his feet unexpectedly, rousing the boy from his daydreams; his meger delusions.
Hot, orange metal met pale, brused, bloodied skin.
A scream tore loose from the silent, wispy prisoner.
Voices raised in laughter, taunting, but they did not reach a single pair of ears.
They did not bounce off a single wall.
They did not echo.
They only wanted to see how much the boy could stand before he broke.
They only wanted to call forth the dark, deep thing inside of him; the thing they had all come to fear.
They only wanted for him to wash away in the wind-like smoke from a delicate candle flame- taking the pain of his existence with it in a rush of darkness and shadows. Shadows that clotted the treelines as the boy stared out of the carriage windows, only glancing down on occasion to watch the streets and cars pass by below, their mundane inhabitants oblivious to the wonderous world that was just beneath the surface of their own.
The streets passed.
The traffic thinned.
The night sky loomed up, stretching out like an endless sea of silky black, dotted with little pinpricks of light.
The boy stared out the window and breathed deeply, savoring the fresh air.
How many years had it been?
The boy didn’t know.
He had forgotten what the earth looked like; what fresh, cool air smelled like.
He had forgotten what ordinary people looked like, for his captors weren’t normal. No… They had smooth, pale, eyeless faces and cruel, parchment mouths drawn tightly closed by thick lines of ancient, black thread which pierced their skin, making vocalisation nearly impossible.
Nearly.
They could still mess with your head: read your mind and speak right into your thoughts, their voices rattling your skull and tugging at your sanity.
The boy had become accustomed to not speaking.
Instead, he stared.
And thought.
And watched.
He ached to move; to wield a weapon.
He hadn’t touched one in so long… despite all of the Clave’s reasurances.
He vowed, silently- as he did most things now- that, when he did hold a blade again, whatever got in his way would be cut down, just as he had been; as he never would be again.
He vowed nothing more.
He had little else to want.
Wanting was beyond him now.
He had lost such meaningless human niceties long ago; back when they had begun to break his bones and tear his flesh.
He had learned better than to need. Than to want. Instead, he did as he was told, wanted what he was told to want, and killed what he was told to kill.
He no longer prayed.
Waiting.
Watching.
Staring.
Forgetting.
He no longer remembered Her clearly; She was a fuzzy, distant shadow in his mind’s eye, but he knew that she had given up.
She had let him go.
He drew in a breath, fighting to keep his eyes open even though he hardly slept anymore, for
there were never any dreams. Only memories.
Only nightmares.
Sky broke against stone and the boy blinked, snapped from his reverie.
A skeletal hand gripped his wrist, covering the bloody, broken, scarred skin that had bared the weight of iron shackles for far too long; tightening threateningly to send a bolt of pain up the boy’s arm when he did not follow immediately.
The familiar, haunting figure of his warden materialised in the darkness of the cab.
The sleak, skeletal black horses chomped at their bits.
A figure leaped from the driver’s seat, though he had not been holding the reins.
He was only there for appearances.
The boy blinked.
The figure motioned him forward, out of the cab, and the boy followed- reluctantly- knowing that She was there, in that stone building. That this one, plain man- this shadowhunter- would have Her believing a lie:
The boy had never been traumatized. He had learned a lesson. He had been in training. He was a machine; A warrior.
He no longer posed as a threat.
The boy breathed, deeply, and followed the man to the front doors which flung open expectantly at their approach.
Darkness rushed out of their depths, flooding out into the night.
***
Ash could feel himself being pulled back toward reality, but he fought to stay under the blanket of unconsciousness, already able to feel what was waiting for him on the other side.
It had been three years since he had first set foot in the institute as the person he was today.
Three years was a lot of time and, in all honesty, his condition had improved.
He wasn’t scared anymore; just hurt.
His ribs ached, his lungs full of fluid, he didn’t have the energy to move, to cough,
Breathe.
Wet, shallow gurgling noises escaped his dry, cracking lips.
Exhale.
He coughed, spitting blood, and realised that he was very, very dizzy. Very thirsty.
Air filled his lungs, slowly, as he came to, fighting for consciousness.
He blinked, heavily, but didn’t dare to look around.
He only watched.
Stared.
Listened.
Waited.
He breathed again, coughing harshly.
Charlotte.
He didn’t hate Charlotte.
He never had.
She had abandoned him.
“For her own reasons,” he thought, though he wasn’t sure why.
Ash’s head swum.
His vision blurred.
“Charlotte,” he murmured, his mouth barely moving.
“She won’t ever hear,” something hissed at the back of his skull, telling him what he knew to be true.
The room began to sway.
Sweat drenched his clothes.
He wasn’t thinking straight.
Eyes half disks of silver in the dark, Ash rolled his neck and glanced toward Kim.
What ever did she think of him?
Why was she still here?
Where else would she have gone?
He blinked, regarding her curiously.
She truly had nothing left anymore.
“Your fault, your fault, your…”
Ash ignored his thoughts, switching them off.
He had let something loose, something he didn’t know how to control, but, right now, that wasn’t important.
What mattered more is what had happened.
Events ran through his brain, scattered and fuzzy; broken.
The voice chuckled.
Ash scowled.
He closed his eyes.
“I…”
His words fell flat in the empty air:
Quiet.
Barely audible.
He looked at the girl, trying to gauge a reaction.
She needed space. And time.
He was a monster, somewhere in all of the confusion; somewhere in his soul.
He was poison.
But he didn’t want to be.
He hadn’t chosen to be.
Someone else had chosen for him.
He shouldn’t have let Crow in… Should have been smarter than that… Thought things through more…
His thoughts were jumbled, murky, incomplete, sporadic, but Ash knew what had to be said, even if whom he said it to never believed him; even if their perspectives had been forever changed.
“I’m sorry.”
((quite long, this one... XD Sorry for the wait... It's just... life ya know??? XD))
((Wow, powerful...))The sword of light struck, more do to motion and proximity then intent to attack. At least on her part. Kim had connected to him in this moment, empathically. Many times her sanity had been pushed, walking through a hospital, a high school, a graveyard. It didn’t matter. Wherever people were, emotions that were strong and negative. She felt it as of it were herself. However this trumped them all. She wanted to vomit from sheer agony.
Many though she was cold, heartless. She couldn’t even watch the news without horrid torment. Now her sanctuary, the library... gone. The few people she had some connection too, she could feel the echoes of their last moments, but worse that demon... she felt his pleasure, the cruel delight. That was what nearly broke her. Or perhaps you can not break what is already broken. She saw nothing good in herself, yet people. She had hope for. She believed there were truly good people. She didn’t trust them, because she didn’t deserve love, or kindness, if she hadn’t been fully confident before she was now.
She killed them, maybe not by her hand, but her presence. She even dragged Ash in. Death. That is what she deserved. She only brought pain and suffering, only felt pain and suffering. Had she ever smiled? Her whole life at this orphanage had been miserable, every day reminded why no one ‘wanted’ her, her own parents didn’t even want her. Whomever they were.
She was ugly, worthless and useless. The contact with him just reminded her of how horrible she was. He didn’t start out bad, but she did. It was then she remembered. The statement the woman who ran the place said. ‘Murderer from the womb, killed your own mother and father wanted nothing to do with you’.
Tears fell, but not from the emotions, or feelings. Instead she drank that poison, not letting them out to heal her. Tears were healing, grief healed, sorrow even healed, but instead what she cried for, was for Ash. Empathy was a double sided sword. She felt so much from others. She bottled up her own emotions. ‘I’m sorry’ It was actually painful to hear that, and the most insane thoughts plagued her. No, I’m not deserving. Better off dead. Nothing. Filthy. Disgusting. Trash. The list was a mile long and passed though her heart in less than ten seconds.
A baby cried.
She blinked. Reality was relative to her. She held the baby, but didn’t know what to do. It was then she realized the weight was gone. The wings were gone.
Attention shifted back to Ash. Blood mixed with her tears. A rare thing, but great pain, trauma can cause it. Her eyes burned, her mind couldn’t process. Overloaded. “Ash... those that love you already forgave you.” Her voice cracked. “You’re not what any say, but what you choose.” The words were as if from someone else, wisdom and insight beyond her. She was connected and disconnected. As if speaking a Prophecy of God while in a trance, there and not there.
That was it. No more strength was in her. Her body began to tremble. Cold from head to toe, heat in her face. Shaking and struggling to stay upright. Fighting the urge to black out. Her heart lodged in her throat. The blood and salt water tears still fell. Was this it? Was she going to die? Was her mind breaking? Heart giving out? Had her lonely life come to an end? Now that energy drained from her, the swords vanished. A spark, a small part didn’t want to die. Wanted to do something, have someone. Even just a single friend. Though, life was rarely fair, maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.
Her vision blurred and even in her current stare if she fell the baby would be cradled safely, to avoid impact.
((Did you want to continue still? I know life has been busy, so please know I’m not trying to rush you))
Mod
((It’s fine. Life has taken a bad turn latelyZ not able to really write well))
Mod
