Escape of the Elements

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Kynna, Sep 6, 2012.

  1. His master lived and worked in a bakery, though the slave had never seen the upstairs. Joseph, called "Boy" by his master, resided in the basement of the bakery. He'd lived and worked there since he had been taken from his parents, and taught how to prepare and make the dough, as well as bake it. He'd never been given shoes, but he was allowed an old, torn shirt and worn shorts. He kept his hair short so the heat from the oven didn't bother him as badly, though his hands had been burned plenty of times. He was thin, though not all that muscled. His arms were decently so, from working the dough all afternoon and making deliveries at night.

    His schedule was sort of flipped, being awake by noon, working downstairs until sunset, and then making deliveries until the wee hours of the morning, before the sun made it's ascent. He didn't mind the schedule much; the cool evening air was a welcome after the sweltering heat of the oven. However, he delivered the baked goods on an old wagon that he pulled himself. There were many hills on his route, and too often did the pastries slide around and bump into each other. The customers would make a complaint, which would result in punishment for him.

    His punishments were normally done by the whip. His master began with three, and added one more for each complaint he had received that morning. His bleeding would ban him from working with the food, and he would spend all day moving supplies by himself, and cleaning out the oven after it was done being used for the day. Once the bleeding had stopped, another slave would bandage him and give him "fresh" rags instead of the blood-stained shirt. She wouldn't speak a word to him, but she always seemed annoyed by him. All of the other slaves did, and all sixteen of them ignored him.

    As he had gone back to work and began his normal routine, he let his mind wander. Knead the dough, knead the dough. More flour. Knead the dough, knead the dough. Fold. Knead the dough, knead the dough, his hands seemed to do the work for him as they repeated the same actions over and over. His thoughts turned dangerous - normally, he would physically cringe as he mentally scolded himself. But the scars on his back gave him some determination. Just enough that he might act on the thoughts.

    He pictured himself running away before his last delivery, running down the alleys he had passed so many times in his life. Idly, he wondered if he had the courage to do it. He almost began to talk himself out of it, but as he reached for the flour, the stinging pain on his back reminded him. Yes, he would have to do it soon. And do it without getting caught, for that particular punishment might be something worse than the dreaded whip. He dared not thing of what that might be. But what lied beyond the walls of the alleyways? That thought might have stopped him, if he had not seen what happened next...

    His master stormed downstairs, literally dragging an anthro slave tiger down with him. His body made a solid thump as he reached the dirt floor. The anthro was dressed in only ratty shorts, the color of mud, similar to the rest of the slaves. His white striped fur was filthy, and Joseph couldn't help but notice that this slave didn't have a collar yet. This meant he had been recently purchased, and was about to be put in his place at the master's feet.

    Joseph frowned sadly as the tiger growled at him, which earned him a slash from the whip. All the slaves cringed at the sound of the tiger's pain, and Joe was sure all of them wanted to tell the tiger to just let it happen, that there was no stopping the master. He owned them all, and he made sure they knew it. The master had one of his other anthro slaves, this one, a wolf, tie up the tiger so he couldn't stop their owner. "Flea-bitten piece of shit," the master yelled as he repeatedly whipped the now-defenseless tiger's back. "You belong to me now!"

    The escapade went on for a long, drawn-out hour. The tiger only stopped growling a warning at their master, when his blood had stained his white fur and dripped onto the dirt on which he knelt. Joseph had been the one ordered to put the collar onto his master's newest slave, and he made sure he hurried with it. His master was watching, and he did not like waiting. Once the master was satisfied that his newest purchase would not run, he made his way up the stairs, cursing at the fact that he wouldn't be able to sell the coat now because it was ruined.

    Over the course of the next few weeks, Joseph practiced an ability he noticed he had - he could take away all the light around him and he would become a shadow. The light felt warm in his chest and gave him strength and steadiness enough to move the cart without damaging the pastries. With each time he used it, it was easier and easier to do, though he made sure not to do it when people were around. Finally, he had just one more delivery. He sat the cart down and took the light from all around him. He smiled to himself at the warmth that spread through his body.

    Cautiously, he took a step forward, and gave some of the light back behind him, and took some from in front of him. He took more light, so now the shadow appeared to be a ball. He took another step and repeated giving and taking light, and slowly sped up. He still kept close to the buildings as he made his way through the town and eventually came to the river. Blending with the shadow of a tree, he looked up and down the river. The sky was lightening, allowing him to see more of his surroundings. There was a bridge down to his left, with bars, but they were just narrow enough so boats could not come and go. There was plenty of space for a person.

    He gulped to himself and stepped into the water, shivering at the chilly liquid. He kept moving, knowing full well by now the master was out looking for him. Thankfully, he figured out how to swim through the water before he had to leave the shallows and swim alongside the edge of the bridge in order to slip through the bars. It was slow work, but he managed to stay a shadow. He turned to follow the wall back to the other side of the bridge and slipped into the shade of the trees.

    He was free. Outside of the walls of the city, out of his master's clutch. He was free! He couldn't help but smile, a true smile that the light around him seemed to share. Sticking to the trees, he went to go investigate what was giving off so much light. He looked to the East and saw the brightest thing he'd ever seen in his life, even harder to stare at than when the oven's flames were close to his face. He stepped out of the safety of the trees, but barely, to get a better view of it. The light warmed him, from the inside and from the out. He felt friendship and peace, which were two things he'd never felt before, though he'd longed for them since he was a child.
  2. Numb.

    I'm so numb...

    Glassy eyes like a soulless doll gazed straight across the room at the window. Moonlight was leaking through the pane, distorted a mere fraction of an angle by the thickness of the glass. The result was a spotlight that drenched all it fell upon in silver and white. Anything unfortunate to fall short of its glow remained inky and misshapen in the dark.

    Two simple steps to the left of that window would bring one to the balcony entrance, though at the moment it was sealed off by two tall, narrow doors laden with thick curtains.

    The urge should have been there...

    But it wasn't. Green eyes simply continued to stare while buried deep inside was a faint thought that something wasn't right with this picture. A whispering voice inside, a gentle murmur. It spoke in a way this shell of a man could not understand. Alone, the words made sense, but together...

    Slowly that vibrant stare shifted toward the balcony doors and a glimmer of warmth manifested deep in his chest and at the very tips of his fingers and toes. A little heat to soften the edges of the numbing coldness reigning supreme.

    The silence inside his head was unbearable, even after all of these years, and it was so difficult to live with it. Joints ached, tiny bugs crawled beneath skin. And yet he was powerless to stop it. He couldn't even react accordingly, not even the slightest of shudders. Such was the constant torment that often sent his mind into a downward spiral of madness, of anxiety.

    In these moments, he would desire nothing more than the ability to release this built up pressure, though hardly the time ever came for it. While the king favored his usage greatly, the cruel leader had many other toys. And so tonight was just another night where this shell would sit and wait and drown inside his sea of psychosis.

    Or was it?

    Muffled noises managed past the filter over his ears. It was a tell-tale sign that a guard was arriving to bring him a meal. If he was hungry, he couldn't tell, but even these slight sounds were enough to kick his mind into gear. Suddenly he was aware of his surroundings, not just seeing but actually registering the chair he sat upon and the bed in the corner, the dresser holding his clothes. And the door. The door that was now standing wide open.

    These stupid guards had been warned against making noise when the master was not present to control the device. But they were incapable of understanding the simplest of things it seemed because the two of them were now arguing back and forth. Their voices went unheard by the young man seated calmly and neatly in the chair, for the thick metal and leather and fabric let no more than an annoying buzzing of speech pass through.

    Annoying... They're so annoying.

    His jaw clenched, as did the fists on his lap, fingernails gathering bunches of the fabric of his pants. But the idiot soldiers were missing the warning signs. One man shoved the other, who stumbled into the silent young man and his chair, knocking them both over. With a resounding THUD, the headgear slammed against the floor, something sparked violently and filled the room with orange light for but a blink of the eye...

    Birds were singing. Birds were singing in the trees above, accompanying the mighty forest in its gentle dance with the wind. A chorus of leaves brushing intimately slowed Resonance's heartbeat in time with his feet and he eventually came to a stop by a stream. For a while, he simply gazed at the rippling water, ignoring the drip, drip of crimson from the tip of his middle finger.

    There was nothing to worry about. It wasn't his blood.

    After what felt like an eternity of waiting for the sounds around him to disappear, which they didn't, the young man breathed a sigh of relief and slowly, as the sun rose over the horizon and warmed his back, he smiled.

    It was like waking up from a deep, eternity long sleep.
  3. It wasn't going to be a good day, Zephyr realized as he was pulled from his cot. There were several closed windows in the room, a small room at the end of a hall near a set of stairs. His master pulled at him again.

    "We've got another one for you," the man said roughly. Nodding, Zephyr pushed himself up onto his feet and kept his eyes downcast. Even after a few years, he was afraid his master's first command would be to take the shot that would make him compliant for the rest of the day. It has been a long time since the first thing the young blond did upon waking was lash out and try to break free.

    A leash was connected to the collar around his neck. Even if he was more docile now that he was before, there was no way his master would risk leaving him unleashed. That kind of control would never be his again, and he knew it. They walked towards the stairs and, rather than heading up towards the outside world, they walked downstairs where criminals were placed. Slaves that didn't obey the laws of the King, or rebels that were caught, or even a common burglar, were all placed down here and given some form of punishment by Zephyr.

    It wasn't a long walk down the stairs, and then a military officer opened up a cage to reveal a small cell with three people - an older man, a child, and a teenage woman. Zephyr paused and looked up at his master for the first time in several months.

    "Grab the child and remove him," his master told the officer, who quickly did as he was told. The child was removed from the cell, his face, dirt covered and tear stricken, was not that of an ignorant child. He knew what could happen to him here, especially if he didn't do as he was told. His quiet compliance made Zephyr's calm demeanor falter a little, only to be replaced by a harsh tug of the leash. "Mutt, I need the girl punished, hard. Do whatever you need to in order to break her, but do not kill her. The man... Well, he doesn't matter anymore."

    The leash was removed and the cell closed and locked. The door was heavy metal with just a small grate window about chest high. A plate was slid across the grate, and a couple vents in the room popped open to give Zephyr a burst of air. He would have been fine with what was in the room, but the extra air meant he would not tire as easily. It was a small concession for his comfort. Especially since they only leak a minute amount of air into his room when he is placed in there.

    He wanted to tell them he was sorry, but his master could still be listening. It wasn't proper for someone as low as him to talk to such people. Even if they were considered criminals. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and soaked in all the air he could, even after the vents closed off. The room became stifling, and both the man and teenager were struggling to breathe. Holding the air in, he walked to the woman and touched her face before trailing his fingertips down her throat and to its base. She gasped, falling to her knees and grasping his wrist as though she were choking and his hand was crushing her throat.

    "Please," he heard the man whisper. Zephyr removed his fingers and allowed a little more air to the woman before turning to the man. "Just kill me and leave her be."

    "I cannot," Zephyr said softly. "Killing is not what I have been told to do." Sympathy could be heard in his voice, as though he knew death would be preferable to what he would be doing. "Lay flat." The man's eyes widened but he did not move. "Do it! On your stomach!" The commande was said with such vehemence, such fear of being disobeyed, that the man did so quickly. And then the air became heavier and denser. The air in the room became less so, as Zephyr released air back into the room to build the pressure over the man. If Zephyr were paying attention, if he hadn't lost all sense of himself and his surroundings, he might have heard the gasps of the girl and the yells of the officer outside.

    The door slammed open and Zephyr was hit, the force killing his focus and knocking him to the ground, finally cutting away his connection to the air. The air over the man became heavier until he could breathe again. Zephyr looked up to see the man's body was limp; he had passed out. He closed his eyes to try and ignore the crying of the teenager. He felt his master connecting his leash again, and then he was led back to his room where he was left alone again.

    It was hard to manuever air like that. Exhausted, Zephyr fell onto his cot and fell asleep once again. In a few hours, he'd be pulled back up and would have to do such things to another person. Next time, it may become more gruesome. Next time, he may be required to draw blood. Next time, there may even be yet one more death on his hands.

    How would he ever become clean again?
    <div style="float:left; margin-right:7pt;"><img src="" style="height:375px;width:254px;" /></div>"Beauty" ran across the fields, far away from the Master's home. The milky bars of moonlight brightened his way, directing his egress. He was barefooted, the grass was damp and the night wind was chilly, each step sent jolts of discomfort that kept him awake and running. His flimsy, loose clothes offered little shelter from the bitter wind. The tunic was far too large for him, for he had run off with the Master's.

    There were tears of joy and sorrow and fear streaking down "Beauty's" cheeks, their moist paths gleaming in the moonlight. Even as he ran, footfalls leaving momentary imprints in the grass, his hands shook. There was a little blood on his fingers but it wasn't his own, and it wasn't by his hand as well. Images of what transpired in the estate were still burned in the back of his mind and they distressed him to no end.

    He ran and ran until he reached the line of trees in the distance. Panting, chest heaving and hands shaking, he turned around and sank to the ground, his back resting upon the rough bark of the tree. As he looked up at the moon, his mind went back to what had transpired.

    "Beauty" closed the door behind him. The squeal making him cringe as it always had. He walked to the hole in the flimsy wall, the Master had deemed fixing it too great of an inconvenience for him and "Beauty" would just have to deal with it. It was something "Beauty" was thankful for. He reached out to the bright disc in the sky as he marveled at it. He had first seen 'Beauty' as a dim crescent, but now it was a resplendent, glowing disc.

    The mere sight of it gave him hope and deep inside, the wanting for freedom grew greater and he felt like he could do it for the first time in his life. If 'Beauty' could become a radiant circle in the sky, he could certainly become radiant too. For some reason his hearing was much better than normal on that night. He heard the unmistakable footsteps of the Master in the hall outside his room.

    Confidence turned into fear and anxiety in an instant. The Master had been kind enough to feed him and house him all his life. He knew nothing of the outside world other than tales he overheard from the other servants. Maybe what the Master did to him was just ample enough payment for whatever the Master provided for him. He was fidgeting nervously when he sat on the bed. He wanted to go, but he feared the aspect as well.

    The terrible noise from the door hinge just frayed his nerves even further. Deep within he felt a strange pulling and pushing sensation. He pushed it as far to the back of his mind as he could, but he was unable to ignore it. It was like a strange, rhythmic buzzing in his head.

    The Master faced him. He couldn't bring himself to look in the Master's eyes, so he looked meekly at the feet of the bed. All defiance having been drained from him by fear of the Master. In his peripheral vision, the corners of the Master's lips curled up in a malicious smile. All of a sudden, "Beauty" could feel phantom hands groping his body, grabbing his hair, touching him, inside him, plucking him like a well tuned instrument...

    Not moving from his kneeling position, he saw the Master's tunic slide down to the floor. He could almost see the sneer on the Master's face when he said "That's right. Worship your master. Tomorrow, you'll have a new one." The Master grabbed "Beauty's" chin and said "Such a shame... Well, at least we have one night more of passion. I will make it..." The Master trailed off and brought his lips closer to "Beauty's" ear. "...unforgettable."

    The word brought everything into focus for "Beauty." He didn't want this any more. He felt so dirty, so used, he wanted to be radiant and pristine like the 'Beauty' in the sky. He struggled and freed himself from the Master's grasp. "Oh ho ho... It seems 'Beauty' found some strength. Well, this will make things all the more interesting."

    Voice quivering and hands shaking, "Beauty" told the Master "I don't want this anymore."

    "What did you say?"

    "I don't want this anymore..." said "Beauty", his voice losing volume as his confidence waned once more.

    "And what makes you think you have a choice? Look at me "Beauty", you are nothing. I will do with you as I please. Look into my eyes, they will fill your vision while I ravage you, and use you and enjoy you like the toy you are" The Master's sinister grin only grew darker. He reached over and tore "Beauty's" tunic apart. Panic raced through "Beauty" and he felt his heart race. He didn't want to. He really didn't want to.

    He wanted to scramble away from the Master, but he knew he would get caught quickly. The pushing and pulling sensation in his mind grew stronger as the fear in him built up. "No." "Beauty" whispered, looking directly into the Master's eyes. For a moment, as deep black locked onto his own bluish-silver, the Master's eyes seemed to glaze over. The Master broke eye contact and suddenly looked towards the door.

    "WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" bellowed the Master and "Beauty" shrank back, cowering before the Master's anger. The Master's legs moved as though he was giving chase, but he remained firmly rooted to the spot. "DID YOU THINK YOU WERE GOING TO GET AWAY THAT EASILY, 'BEAUTY'?" he spat with such scorn. "Beauty" shrank further back.

    What happened next stunned him. The master punched himself in the face. He landed a second blow, and then a third before his nose spilled forth blood. Panicking, Beauty took the Master's tunic and tried to stem the flow, but it wouldn't stop. The Master took another hit from himself. When he regained his composure, "Beauty" realized that this was his chance to escape. He grabbed the tunic and dashed out into the hall and out into the fields...

    He was free. He was finally free!

    When "Beauty" came back to reality, the gray of dawn was already in the sky and only a tiny sliver of the moon was left above the horizon. The euphoria of escaping from the Master quickly faded and the reality of the situation dawned on him. He was alone, he knew nothing, he was illiterate, he had nothing but the clothes on his back, not even a name, and the King would probably be looking for him. Fear, icy and paralyzing, gripped his heart.

    He desperately looked for the moon and saw only a sliver above the horizon. "Beauty, Beauty! I'm afraid... Where are you going? Don't leave me... Don't leave me alone..."

    The moon slipped under the horizon and "Beauty" felt utterly, truly, completely alone. He drew his knees to his chest, entwined his arms around his legs, buried his face in between them and cried. He cried.

    And cried. And cried some more.
  5. Eden's dreams most often started with nothingness. She would search the abyss for what felt like an eternity, but she always found a black door with a ruby red knob. When she walked into the doorway, the true nightmares would begin instantly. Tonight, it was a vision of her former home. She was in the drawing room, and the fire gave the room a hellish red hue. Eden ran inside and searched for her family, but they were nowhere to be found.

    Thunk, Thunk, Thunk.

    Curiously, Eden walked down the dark hall. With each step, she could feel her nightdress turn into one of her frilly pink dresses she wore as a child. By the time she found the room containing the noise, she looked like a woman from a fairytale. Her cheeks were bright pink and her lips were candy apple red. Her eyes had bright blue eyeshadow, and her eyelashes were curled. Her hair was up in braided pigtails and she felt something behind her. In the reflection of a polished oak door, she saw a skull grinning at her. She turned and it was gone, but there was a willowy chuckle left behind.

    Thunk, Thunk, Thunk.

    Turning back to the door, Eden took hold of the knob and pushed the door open. The room was empty except for a rocking chair that moved violently as paint chipped away. Suddenly, her mother was sitting in the rocking chair as she hummed. Her skin was blackish green and smelled of death. Eden walked towards her mother, and she stopped when the skin began to bubble and ooze off of her. Her mother started calling Eden's name and stood. She looked at Eden and screeched as she ran at her.

    "Eden! Die!"

    Gasping, Eden lurched forward in her king sized, four post bed. The cotton sheets clung to her skin from her cold sweat. Eden's maid opened the door with a worried visage. The poor girl was always concerned about Eden for no good reason. Eden stood and lit a large candelabra for the maid since Eden could see any and everything in the darkness. The maid fawned over her before handing her a note with the royal seal on the front.

    Lady Rinnah,
    You are hereby ordered to arrive at the King's throne room as soon as you possibly can. It is an urgent matter that must be attended to. There is also a new case of an escapee slave from a bakery. The King expects you to kill the slave and investigate into the bakery further.
    His Royal Highness

    Eden groaned and let her maid dress her in her black leather war dress that came down to her mid thighs. Then she put on a silk red tunic that came to her knees and leggings that reached her sandal laden ankles. Eden's maid lastly put on her heavy armor as well as her sword and dagger. She put Eden's inky black hair into a tight braid and bowed as Grace headed out towards the stables. She mounted her pitch black Quarter Horse and rode off into the night with her features frozen in an emotionless gaze.

    When she arrived at the palace, she was escorted to a small black room with a man inside. Eden lit two candles and stood before him. Apparently, this was an illegal slave trader connected to the baker. He was stubborn like most men were and refused to give up any sort of information. However, Eden had a trick up her sleeve. She told him to look into her eyes, and he obeyed with a cocky grin. As soon as his eyes met hers, his face dropped. He would be surrounded by nothingness, frozen in a black abyss.

    "Tell me," Eden said monotonously as she stared darkly into his fearful, paralyzed orbs. "What was the bakery's last purchase? What do you know of him?"

    The fool gave up everything right away, and in return she "made it stop". Once she had all the information he had to offer, Eden left and walked with yet another escort to the King's throne room. The King was a dramatic man with a flare for bright hues of gold and red. His walls were red with bright gold draperies. The floor was made of the smoothest marble and the throne itself was pure gold. The King himself was standing in front of the throne with a huge crown on his head.


    "Hello, Lady Rinnah. I see you have received my message. I'm glad you came alone so I could speak with you in a more...private setting. Do you like my palace, Lady Rinnah?"

    Eden looked around the room. "Indeed it is beautiful, M'lord," she bowed with a monotonous tone. She didn't like where this conversation was going.

    "Oh, but it is not as beautiful as you are in the moonlight, Lady Rinnah," he said running the back of his hand across her cheek. "Which is what I wanted to speak to you about. You see, as King, I have urges and desires that must be met in order to do my job. I also want to keep an eye on you and your delicious techniques. That is why, in seven weeks, we shall be married."

    Eden was having a difficult time holding herself together. All she wanted to do was snap and choke the King until he was dead. She bowed and left almost immediately after. The King already had two other wives and a harem that housed two thousand women. He was being careful about Eden too. An escort was to follow her every move at all times. However, Eden was sly enough to slide through the eye of a needle. In the blink of an eye, she'd incapacitated the escorts and broke her horse into a run, heading for the mansion.

    She threw a blue dart on the door which meant the help needed to scatter as soon as possible. In a way, Eden always knew something like this would happen to her. It always did. Spurring the steed faster, Eden was out of the kingdom gates within an hour. She broke from the trail and immediately began riding through the forest at breakneck speed. Once the sun was slowly emerging, Eden slowed her horse and decided to take a long awaited breather.
  6. Allen Seiei. A man who's been known around in multiple circles and then some. A man, no more than 21, whose been in his share of battles since his younger days. Also, he was one of very few who can fight with electricity. No, most others generate some medium to make electricity. With Allen, it was in his very control. Also, with that reception in mind, let's just say taht he wasn't welcomed in alot of places when he accidently used his abilities to ensure his saftey.

    Which brings us to his current situation. The man himself was laying against a tree, with blood being easily seen through some of his clothing (Which just happens to be a simple t-shirt (stained with blood on the sides) with a black cloak over it, some pants and some leather boots that he found while on the run.) "Huf-huf-" He breathed heavily, his lungs shoooting pain throughout his body. "Now those idiots think im some sort of wizard. Fuckin assholes. This shit hurts y'know." All of a sudden, he was hearing what sounded like a horse riding along. "Great, he mummered to himself. Wincing slightly, he got up and peaked from behind a tree.

    Only to gaze in shock as he saw a woman (who he thougt seemed like just a few years younger than him) wearing a rather nice looking red tunic with bits of armor on it. Using the tree as support, he slowly walked out to see the woman once more. "Hey-" Was all that came out of his mouth when the pain flared up yet again. He instantly went down on one knee and started to cough. Luckly, there he didn't cough up any blood, however, there was some comming from the side of his mouth.

  7. Two very different things existed in Hoi's life. These things were life and death. As a midwife she saw life, and as a healer she often times saw death. She always had an affinity for these two things and while many who lived with her shuddered at those prospects, Hoi embraced them. It was how she ended up holding two very different occupations.

    Tonight, Hoi played the midwife to a slave. The woman was very young, only in her teens but the Master breed them all like horses. It didn't matter how young they were, once they started their menstrual cycle he either paired them up with another slave to conceive or he would do so himself if he so felt the desire. This slave's baby was the Master's creation, born without love between the two parents. Hoi had witnessed this many a time and her heart always grew bitter. The only reason she could bare with a birth such as this was witnessing the mother's tenderness at the babe. This sight was what had pulled Hoi through the unbearable acceptance of the child's circumstances.

    However this night was different.

    As the mother pushed the babe out, drenched in ambiotic fluid and blood, Hoi looked up at the mother and saw a myriad of emotions: emptiness, bitterness and repulsion. Hoi moved to the slave's side to give the baby to its mother, but the teenager refused to look at it.

    "But he's your son," Hoi said gently.

    "One that was forced upon me," the mother said coldly. "I see it more as a parasite than a child."

    The woman refused to touch it, and while the baby was screaming for food, the mother would not let it breast feed. The guards came in after one of the nurses reported on the incident. The woman had given birth only minutes before, but they whipped her, whipped her long and hard. Back bleeding and her face bruised, the woman conceded in feeding the child.

    But the look was still there and Hoi could not forget it. Her mind was in a state of turmoil as she rummaged through her chest of herbs to place upon the mother's back; Hoi was told by the guards to not help the woman but the healer wasn't going to listen to such cold words. She wondered then, if the many mothers who she helped give birth truly cared about their children, and if their looks of joy and love were conjured emotions. After all, it was better to embrace the child than to embrace pain.

    With the poultice slathered upon the woman's back, Hoi looked at the mother's eyes.

    They were wet, filled with an agony whose causation was deeper than the welts on her back.

    ... And that was all it took for Hoi to release her rage.

    The guards, choking upon their own saliva, drowned in the hallways. The nurses bowed away from Hoi as she stormed through the corridors, far too afraid to act. And those that felt brave and tried to halt Hoi suffered the same fate as the guards. Hoi held the same look as the mother held for her babe, as if the looks were transferred to another face. So many tried to stop her, which meant many died in her wake, but that was alright, Hoi was used to death.

    Outside of the confines of her previous home, Hoi felt rejuvenated. She felt her entire being pool out into the surrounding areas, drenching it until there no more of her self to spread. Into the trees she went, feeling life underneath her toes. She belonged here, and nothing was going to take away this freedom.
  8. Work work work.
    That's all Domascus could ever do. Do this chore. Do that. Build this. Fix those.
    It was starting to get annoying. He was busy all day long every single day of the week trying to finish so many random projects given to him and told that if he didn't finish them he'd be severely punished. He groaned and got back to work, hammering away at the wall of the building he was in.
    He bared his teeth, growling softly. This wasn't how it was SUPPOSED to be. He was supposed to be happy right now, pursuing all the things he loved. He was supposed to have the freedom to do whatever he so chose.
    But unluckily for him he had a sort of talent. This talent allowed him power. And there was a particular other man who noticed this power and all but took that freedom away to force him to use the power.
    This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
    He worked hard, harder than any one, normal person should work.
    Someday, he thought, I'm going to get out.

    Someone around him shouted something in anger and another shouted back. Apparently something had happened and the two men he heard shouting were now trying to pick a fight.
    Domascus ducked back behind a corner, watching as the two men began an all out fist fight in the middle of the street.
    The guards who had been watching him to make sure he was working now turned their attention towards the fight and hurried over to try and stop it from getting out of control. Their attempts only escalated the fight and dragged the poor poor guards into the brawl.
    A grin spread across Domascus' face as he backed away, looking for a place of escape.
    Thanks guys, he told them in thought, backing even further from the scene.
    Soon one of the guards cried out in the now distancing area of the construction sight and by the sounds of the cry, Domascus figured they noticed he was gone.
    It was now or never, he figured.

    He hid under a nearby roof overhang and slipped back against the wall. It frustrated him a little that he had such an interesting power, but that power wouldn't help him if he was caught and dragged back to his 'master' to be punished for attempting to get away.
    Well it wasn't HIS fault his babysitters looked away. That was serious lack of duty there.
    His thoughts were halted as the two from the guard ran by his location. Apparently not seeing Domascus, he hurried on.
    Domascus could only grin at this and slowly started making his way towards the entrance to town, hiding in every alley and in every doorway he seen.
    He didn't want to take any chances.
  9. [​IMG]

    Soft but sure footsteps could be heard in the distance as a figure approached a seemingly-abandoned area.
    Per order of his highness Grave guarded this location throughout the day and night, his body and mind always attuned to anything and everything that went on in the small outcropping behind the castle.
    No one dared come here and no one was able to leave.
    Well, in fact, there was only one.

    Sniffing the air lightly Grave could sense that rain was soon to fall and as the day went on the air got thicker with moisture.
    It smelled of honeysuckle and wet grass even though the sun had been up for at least an hour's time.
    The large heat source seemed to be faltering today, finding issue with passing on it's rays through the growing plumes of clouds.
    This morning the scents around the area were especially sweet because after a long thought out idea Grave finally decided to actually go against the king's warning.
    He had seen the man picking the berries on several previous occasions but when the young man dared ask about the fruits he was told to leave them be that they were poisonous.

    Obviously that made no sense but Grave understood the hint and refrained from touching the items as suggested.
    However, last night he just could not overlook the sheer amount of tasty looking fruits and the smell that was coming from the orchard...delicious.
    So, after picking a good bushel full he found a secluded place by the well he guarded for so long and started to work with a small rock and bowl.
    The young man was brought a loaf of bread a day and also whatever meat the king wished to eat.
    He was to eat the meat and part of the loaf, the other half of the bread going to his captive behind the well walls.

    After grinding the berries for a good three hours under a lightly misting rain Grave finally decided that they were ready.
    Grabbing the loaf of bread he carefully got up stepped onto the wall of the well, then abruptly lept all the way down.
    The young man's boots clunked loudly in the enclosed area, no doubt waking his long-time captive.
    Without saying a word Grave carefully shifted so that he was sitting right next to the chain's man's head.
    The male's arms were chained out to the side, legs done up the same way.
    The chains were slightly rusted showing just how long they had been down in the well.

    Grasping a knife at his side Grave started to cut the loaf of bread, his fingers working quickly and easily showing signs of his other job.
    If anything of important was to escape from the castle he was to catch and or kill them.
    However, since they had gained this man several years ago his job had changed strictly to guard.
    After making several soft cuts of bread he took one slice in his left hand then added a small amount of the jam he'd made to the item.

    Over the years he'd only ever given this man bread because that was what he had been told to do.
    However, he had quite a bit of jam and honestly wondered if it was any good.
    Best to test such a thing...or at least that was what he told himself.
    Glancing down at the man in front of his crossed legs he reached over, offering the sweet smelling piece of bread to the man.
  10. Her dreams were silent. In her mind, things had not been so dead; it hadn’t been that way in her mind, since she was given to the king. Coye’s music won her family permanent graces with the ruler- that was all that mattered. Years of servitude turned the girl wilder than her family expected. Anger was building inside of her, and during her last performance she ended it all.

    Coye knew what had to be done; her ability was to consume sound and project it, at will. That night, it happened.
    She had not expected the entire theatre to be reinforced with acoustics; it would give her a greater advantage, when the moment was right. Heart pounding, she scribbled on the chalkboard in her hands and showed it to the handmaiden at her side.

    “Everyone is seated. When do I preform?” Coye pointed at it importantly, already getting impatient with the mere moments that had passed. Her handwriting wasn’t horrible; she was angry with how people thought she was a mute. However, their stupidity helped her somewhat conceal her ability. Go ahead and act like she was incapable…only to be surprised by the handicapped girl. She could not even speak, nor hear- so most of them would speak openly in front of her. All of their secrets, she knew.

    All of them.

    Coye felt like it took forever, for them to lead her to the stage; nobles from all around were attending, as well and she was prepared for it. Biting her lip, the tension was overwhelming, but she meandered up the steps and finally took her seat. The red curtain added suspense and she reveled in it. Fingers moving swiftly, she played; the sound could not be heard by anyone, she sucked it all inside. All of the tones, reverberating in her mind; it was the first time she felt alive, since she arrived there. Rage and pain swelled and pulsed in her mind; the curtains began to rise and her pace changed. Even the tone changed; they were all going to pay, with an explosion of sound and the worst part was, nobody would hear their screams. After it was over, she was unsure of how long it would take for her to regain her voice. She lost it, whenever she stole sound and projected it; depending on how loud it was. This could quite possibly turn her mute, but she did not care. If she had a chance to escape, it was more than worth it.

    She would definitely make sure of that.

    The crowds in front of her were dressed in their finest; her fingers moved gracefully as she played and the moment she did, the entire theatre was silent. The music was beautiful; enough to enchant most of them into oblivion- however, she was more worried about her distraction. For almost five minutes before curtain call, she performed and built up an arsenal of overwhelming sound; because of the acoustics in the building, her attack overwhelmed them all…the split second she released it.

    Building left falling to pieces, the girl was positive that nobody was mortally wounded as she crawled through the rubble with the rest of them. A horse was waiting for her, outside and the moment she saw the light of day, she crawled harder for it. Almost there…so close… Fingers tingling with anticipation and fright, she pushed past the last person in her way and gracefully hopped onto her steed. Heels digging (carefully) into the creature’s sides, she took one last look at her old life and burst off, out of town. Her instrument was destroyed, she was pretty sure- at this rate, and she did not care if her family heirloom was gone.

    Freedom was all that mattered.

    “Hya!” Tapping the horse’s side again, it picked up speed and she shot through town square before anyone could even see or hear her leave. Now, she was most-likely wanted…that she could live with. All that mattered was getting as far away from all of them as she could. Coye had no idea how long she had been riding, but by the time she reached outside the kingdom, she had lost her voice. Now, she would have to depend on her hands and chalkboard…it was going to be alright; saving what little money she did receive for her performances would have to suffice for now. The sun started to come up and as the horse slowed it’s trot, the exhausted girl fell from the horse and landed next to the stream. With a thud, she crumpled to the ground, exhausted from the ride. At least now, she was free…
  11. BEAUTY
    <div style="float:left; margin-right:7pt;"><img src="" style="height:375px;width:254px;" /></div>"Beauty" was still shaking when he finally stood up, the streaks of tears down his face dried up and crusty. He had cried all he could cry. He still wanted to cry, but no more tears would come out. He felt so afraid, so alone, so vulnerable. Every little sound had him jumping as he trod through the woods. Even the crackle of leaves underneath his feet made him uneasy. It was so foreign to him, the sounds of the forest, for he had never been allowed outside the estate in his life.

    To anyone, the forest would've been beautiful, with brazen bars of sunlight illuminating motes of dust drifting in the air, the foliage rustling as a soft breeze ruffled the myriad leaves. The wind caused the light filtering through the canopy to shift and cast mesmerizing shadows upon the forest floor. This wind caressed "Beauty's" face, but everything was so alien to him, it provided no comfort at all.

    Everything was potentially hazardous. Without the 'Beauty' in the sky, "Beauty" felt utterly powerless, just like he did in the estate, only now, he knew he could probably die. "Beauty" held his hands to his chest and he was hunched over, murmuring to himself like a little child "It's better now without the master... It's better now..."

    He knew it was futile for his mind kept wandering back to the manor and how life, albeit hard, had had somewhat of a modicum of comfort in that he had food and drink and shelter. Here, in the woods, his feet were sore, his clothes were dirty and he was thirsty, so very thirsty.

    To make matters worse, he felt as though he was being watched. Even there, far, far from the place where he had spent all his life in captivity and use as a sexual toy, the Master's face, hands, eyes and voice haunted him. Every shaded tree trunk he passed had eyes that raked up and down his body, admiring him, gleaming with sadistic delight with thoughts of what could be done to get the most pleasure.

    Every twig that brushed against his skin was the Master's hand, touching him sensually again, groping him, playing with him like a finely tuned instrument. His breathing grew labored as the images became more and more vivid and instead of just jumping at feeling twigs brush against him, he could actually feel the hands on him. "Beauty" kept scratching at his body, trying to get the sensations off. He wanted desperately to be clean, but the Master, even if he was very far away, didn't want him to.

    Every breath of wind that rustled leaves, every nervous trill of a bird, every crack caused by a critter wasn't just ambient noise to "Beauty." It was the Master's voice, reminding him how worthless he was, how he was of so little value he didn't even deserve a name. It was the Master's voice, telling him how good he felt, how under him, being brutally violated was where he was really supposed to be. It was the Master's voice scolding him for running away. It was the Master's voice telling him that back at the estate, he could have at least lived, but now he would die because he was ignorant.

    "Beauty" was starting to get dizzy. His breathing was harsh and ragged and he was flushed. He could feel the hands all over him, see the Master's face with a sinister smirk and hear the Master's voice demeaning him, making him feel even more worthless than he already did. Had he had tears to spare, they would've been flowing freely now. He was shaking and swaying from side to side, no longer paying attention to which way he was going.

    Animals that came close to him to investigate were scared away once he flinched when he heard them. "Water... So thirsty..." he managed to whisper to himself. Even his voice was scratched and ragged. "M-maybe I should've s-stayed... Beauty... Where are you?" "Beauty" looked listlessly upwards, trying to look for the disc of the moon, but finding that the leaves blocked much of the sky.

    "Beauty..." he whispered, still looking up. He tripped over a branch and ended up crashing through a wall of trees and shrubbery, sending a couple of birds flying and some squirrels scampering away. He was gashed and bleeding all over by the time he stumbled into a clearing with a stream running through it.

    He looked up and saw another young man in front of him on the other side of the stream. He had on a look of bliss on his face and "Beauty" found it somewhat attractive. Memories of the Master flooded into his mind and with a strangled yelp, he took a step backwards and ended up on his bottom.

    With fearful eyes, he looked up at the other man, too afraid to move, his hands trembling slightly.
  12. Joseph wandered along the river between the trees and the water, his eyes never leaving the sun for long. He felt something, he couldn't think of what, pulling him South. All he saw were trees, water. More trees and more water. Nothing of interest, but he knew, somehow, that it was far away. Curiosity and the fact that he had nowhere else to go, drove him to follow this inner pull.

    Realizing he hadn't eaten, he stopped and looked around. He found a tree that had lots of round things on it and walked up to it, reaching up to pick one off. He sniffed it and took a small bite. It was sweet and juicy, he was pleased to discover. He ate the fruit, but didn't like when he came close to the center, so he threw it on the ground. He reached up into the branches to get more of the fruits and took them with him as he ate them. He threw the cores into the river, the current dragging them North, the opposite direction he was headed.

    Still not being full, but having some energy restored, he returned to his walk along the river. He curiously watches the animals standing in the water. They are tall and on four legs. Large branch-looking ...things are sitting on top of their heads, though they have no leaves on them. They have elongated noses, like the anthro slaves Joseph had grown up knowing. Having no idea if they were intelligent or not, he decided he would rather not risk it and ducked back into the trees where he would be more hidden. If they were intelligent, then he feared they would have contact with the King and he would be dragged back to his master. He shuddered at the thought, a hand absently reaching up to his shoulder where the tip of a couple scars reached.

    His thoughts drifted back to his master. He knew the punishment for his actions, should he be caught and dragged back to the bakery. He remembered, now, what had happened when he was small. He felt a pang in his heart as he remembered the older middle-aged man who had been the only one who helped the young boy learn how the bakery was run and what his chores would be. He taught him what not to do and how to avoid getting the whip.

    Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he slowed his pace as his legs grew tired. He looked up at the sun and smiled wearily at it. He was normally sleeping until now. "I'm so tired," he told the sun. He sighed and sat down on the soft earth to take a short break. He wiped his brow with the back of his scarred arm. The scars were from multiple burns he'd gotten from the oven, on both arms anywhere up to his elbows. He stretched and laid back on the ground, looking up at the blue sky. His eyes drifted closed as he laid there, thinking about nothing in particular. He did catch himself drifting off, however, and played with the light around him. This took a little thought, because he had to change the colors that reflected off of his own person. Eventually, he managed to figure out how to make himself invisible, testing his sight on his hand as his hand revealed what was actually behind it. Satisfied, he relaxed again, though he kept his focus. He only hoped he wouldn't slip up while he slept.
  13. <img src="" align="left" height="304" width="228" />Zephyr was pulled from his sleep after another hour and dragged from his room. This time his master seemed a little panicked, as were all of the officers that were with him. Still disoriented, it took him until they were outside to realize that several slaves had managed to escape and that they wanted him to help find them.

    This may be my chance, he thought to himself. It would be difficult, because of the leash, but in their panic they failed to feel the strong wind and what it would mean regarding him and his power. He soaked in what he could. It was raw, and painful, to pull in the air as quickly as he did, but his master knew the signs of him absorbing power and he didn't want them to be seen.

    Luckily for Zephyr, his master wasn't paying much attention to him at all. They walked past the gates, just the master and two other officers, and into the terrain.

    "No mercy, pet," his master commanded with a harsh bite to his tone. "They are traitors to the king, understand?"

    Zephyr nodded. He would be too, soon. Just a little farther into the trees, a little farther away from the gates...

    It was when they paused to converse that Zephyr made his move, removing the air from each of them and snatching an officer's short sword and dagger. He wasn't skilled with either, but it wouldn't matter. They were caught off guard, and the man whose weapons he stole was dead with a quick jab. More blood was on his hands, but for his freedom he would take it. He would soon be free to fly.

    His master swung at him to try and disarm him, subdue him. They didn't want to kill him if they could help it, he realized. The look in his master's eyes was almost caring, as though he genuinely cared for Zephyr's well-being. It was enough to make him falter, and the other officer was able to stab his dagger into the slave's shoulder.

    "Gah!" he cried out, and then twisted to stab him with the short sword, leaving it lodged into him as he pushed him away. A burst of air was released, throwing his master into a tree.

    "You don't want to do this," his master said, obviously in pain as he stood, unable to really straighten his back. He had hit the tree harder than Zephyr had meant.

    Zephyr shook his head. "But I do. I have always wished to fly, sir. I have always wished to be more."

    "You are unclean, tainted! Do you really believe someone would help a murderer? You have killed slaves, officers... Do you really want to add your master?"

    "You have made me so!" Another burst of air, pushing his master against the tree and holding him there, forcing him to his knees. Zephyr was starting to tire from using so much of his power all at once. Taking the dagger in his hand, he pushed the sharp blade against his master's neck. "You have kept me locked up, forced me to punish and kill... Did you think it would keep me from fighting back one day?"

    His master stayed silent, and with one quick motion started bleeding, choking on his own blood. Zephyr pulled back and started running in any direction. His shoulder hurt, his vision was blurring, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep now. But he had to get farther away. He had to find some way to take care of his shoulder. He had to...

    The world began to fade away, and Zephyr faceplanted into the rough underbrush as he found himself unable to keep pushing forward. It would be fitting, he thought as he felt the blackness seep in, for me to die now that I finally found my freedom and before I could really fly.
  14. When Eden heard the male voice, she thought it was a guard, and since she was on the run she decided to attack first and ask questions later. In the blink of an eye, Eden removed her dagger from its sheath and threw it. When she turned to see the intruder, she realized he wasn't an enemy. In fact, he was wounded. Luckily for him, the man fell to his knees just before she threw the blade which was currently embedded in the tree behind him.

    Hurriedly, she ran to him and laid him on the ground. Her strong hands tore open his shirt to reveal his wound, and she tended to it with the herbs she could scrounge up around her. The man seemed to be in quite a lot of pain, so the wound that she treated was probably an old one. Eden sighed and went back to her horse, tying him to a nearby tree.

    "Who are you?" Eden inquired as if in an interrogation. "You're obviously not from around here, or you'd recognize me."
  15. "I'm just a traveler." He explained easily. "Sorta got unlucky and got chased away from the camp I was staying at due to my.....abilities." Allen had only used his powers on a complete and utter accident. "They branded me as some sort of "Wizard" and tried to kill me." Truth be told, those people at his previous group was some kind of idiots. Allen only wanted to keep to himself and get along but that was in the drain before it started. "Hell, I don't even know where the hell I am anymore. I've been running for days, but" He tried his best to point to his wound, but couldn't due to being tied up. "That came recently...about an hour or two back if I can recall."

    With a sigh, he looked up to that woman to see what she thought of his story. While sitting here, Allen was tring to remember how that wound came to pass. While he was grateful for the treatment, he honestly wanted to leave the area. There's something very, very odd about this place. Mabye he would have to investage, but that can wait until he's fully healed.
  16. The only thing worse then death was being the cause of it..... The cold bristle wind sent slight chills across Darren's body as he leaned on the ledge looking over at the the small speckles of what was left withered in the wind as if it was dancing. He looked away not wanting to think nor wish he was that speckle, free and alive to do what it pleased rather than be caged up and worked live a lifeless savage. He shifted his body off the ledge, placing his hand out to stop knowing that he could go no farther. The room was caged up only with the small opening to look out of. Pure touture, to stare at something and want something more than anything yet know you couldn't have it.

    His eyes wandered around the room and it was another dreadful day, he knew they would call for him, another man that needed to be taken care of..painfully and with no regret. Squeezing his hand and feeling the skin of his own he wanted nothing more but to stay in the room he was in other than take the brutal order of his king. No less then a few minutes later the knock on the door indicated that he was being taken to complete his order. It was nothing new of the sort and yet his body felt as if it was his first time.

    Following the men down the hall he looked around glacing at the gated doors and the pictures that hung slightly off pace with the others. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath before relasing slowly. As the walk seemed live ages it stopped breiftly so the men could open one of the doors. He walkled inside and looked at the man sitting in the chair. His face was slightly bruised and he was of well built. A man of his early fourties yet he seemed to have aged due to the treatment they had given him.

    The rusted shackled held the man and the chair down and his mattled long hair hung in his face. One of the men approached the man and ordered him to lift his head up which he did reluctantly. His eyes cold, emotionless, and full of hatred but yet the man looked like he wanted to die. His eyes glued to Darren's almost like he was pleading to die a quick painless death. He wanted to give him that quick death to keep him from suffreing but he knew what his king wanted. PLacing his right hand on the mans face he knew it wouldn't be what he wanted.

    It was about eight minutes of pure tourture and the shrivled skin, melted on the arms and legs, the cuts on the torsso and his eyes..blackened and globed as if it was ready to fall out. His eyes could't look away, it was as if his punishment was to remember the faces of the men he killed, the touture he caused him and the death as well. He was taken back to his room and it seemed to be quicker than when he was going. The cold wall supported his body as he slouched to the floor closing his eyes rested his hands on his lap.

  17. [​IMG]
    Luce was pretending to be asleep like always between the guard shifts. It wasn't like he could talk to any of them anyway. It simply wasn't done. Not allowed to speak or move or smile. Certainly not allowed to laugh. Luce lifted his eyes at the smell, something sweet? Fruit. It was fruit. He knitted his eyebrows together in concern. It was undoubtedly poison. They were finally going to kill him? Really... After all these years, they could have at least made it interesting!

    Dark eyes lit on the piece of bread. Luce didn't want to die, he wanted to be free. He wanted to swim and float and run and have a life and be a person again instead of chained to the damn ground. He wanted to be clean and not itch. He wanted hot water and soup and vegetables. A bath. A caring touch.

    A life.

    Luce was angry. Surely, surely this was poison! To poison him with something he wanted so badly? How horrible, how terrible! He rattled his chains once and then again. The chains began to float just mere centimeters off the ground, as did his long black hair and the tattered remnants of clothing.

    He was better than this. Soon, he'd be free and he'd never touch the earth again if he didn't so wish.

    He was going to go home and see his Mother.

    Dark eyes stared upwards at his Guard and then he smiled. "I'm leaving now." With a swift yank, using both his elemental powers and his muscles; the young man surged upwards and snapped two of the five chains that bound him.

    "I don't want to hurt you or anyone else, so step aside."

  18. Her chest was heaving, her breath came in short, pained breaths. Hoi never was a runner; her job prevented her from doing extensive exercises. Gone was the exhilaration of leaving that wrenched place, replaced with desperation and exhaustion. Hoi must have been on the move for most of the night as she could see tendrils of morning light peaking through the horizon. She halted at a tree, leaning against the rough bark for support. Turning her face towards the sun, the hues of morning reflected onto her eyes: pinks, blues, violets and yellows, the symbols of a new beginning. Oh god... She had never seen such a beautiful thing in her life, and as a free person nonetheless. That realization lifted her spirit tremendously. True, Hoi would always remain the healer or the midwife, but she would do these jobs at her own discretion, not because her former Master had deemed it so.

    With her feet scratched and bruised and a lighter heart, Hoi continued trudging on through the forest. Fear was driving her now, because the Master could be on the hunt with his hound dogs. Hoi had never seen those creatures before but there were stories passed through the servants and the slaves about what the Master would do to those who escaped. Those thoughts made Hoi cringe. From what she heard the hounds were not merciful, if anything they enjoyed ripping their prey to shreds before the humans found them. Hoi never liked to injure if she could help it, but goddamnit she wasn't going to let a couple of dogs bring her back to enslavement.

    The sound of ragged breathing made the woman pause. Swiftly she hid her frail body behind a tree, peaking around with a fearful eye. There was a body laying before her, and from what Hoi could tell, it was unresponsive. But their face was to the ground, so Hoi had no clue who this person was. Her first thought was to leave it be. It could be one of the guards, but why would a lonely guard be out in the middle of the forest like this? She knew from experience that they always traveled in packs - if one fell, the others would help him.

    No, she concluded, it had to be someone not of the guard. Harmless.

    Slowly peeling herself away from the tree, Hoi crouched down next to the body. The closer she got, the more she could see, and the first thing that caught her eye was the blood. For someone who was seasoned with the gruesome, the sight did nothing to her. The healer simply turned the man over - Hoi had deduced it from his broad shoulders and masculine jaw line - and started cleaning away at the wound. She had no water on her, something she noted should be remedied quickly. Hoi picked away at the sticks, leaves, and dirt, and wiped away at any wet blood. As she worked, the healer felt a pull originating from her stomach. It was a familiar pull, but every time the healer tried to question it, the guards smacked her. She never understood why, just assumed that she did something wrong. Hoi had grown so accustomed to this treatment, that now whenever she felt that pull, she would ignore it and shove it aside - it was what she did now. What the healer didn't realize was this sensation, this pulling, was her element calling out to her. Calling out to the woman to use it to heal and hurt.

    Grabbing hold of the hem of her shirt, Hoi ripped out strips of fabric, exposing her stomach to the elements. Gathering moss from around her, she placed it gently against the wound, applying pressure. She finished by tying the fabric around his shoulder, ensuring that the knots were secure. It was after this was done did the healer take a good look at her patient.

    Her lips parted gently and her eyes grew soft. What a looker this one was.
  19. Domascus sighed heavily as he finally manged to elude the guards and make his way towards the entrance to town.
    He was stopped dead in his tracks when he was soon staring up at two huge iron gates latched firmly across the main entrance way.
    He stepped up to them and gave one a slight tub to be sure. Locked.
    Growling, he tugged harder. Not a chance. He wasn't getting out this way.
    He glared at the gates then kicked at them in anger. The sound of the clanging metal rang out against the quieting background noises of the town.

    Cursing under his breath, he ran to find a quick hiding place.
    It was just in time as a number of the guards came running by to see what the noise was.
    They soon began looking for both Domascus or what caused the sound if not him. Domascus had to hold his breath for fear of them hearing it.
    He was relieved when they gave up and started to walk away to search elsewhere, leaving Domascus free again to deal with the gate.

    He stepped back up to the gate and began trying to figure it out.
    He could try to climb over it, but that would probably just end up with him hurting himself. That and knowing this place there were likely barbs or spikes on top that would pierce his poor hands if he placed them up there.
    The other choice was to dig under the gate.
    The ground underneath was hard and compacted dirt that would make it very hard for a normal person to dig out. It would most likely take them hours to dig a big enough hole to crawl through.
    Thankfully for Domascus, however, his abilities could help with this. He was able to make the hardened dirt just soft enough so he could push it aside easily. It wasn't long before he managed a hole he could squeeze through.

    Once out, he stood and took a cocky minute to turn back and face the town he hoped to never see again.
    He was finally going to be out and be free to go where he wanted and to do what he chose to.
    "Goodbye," he said before turning back and running from the place.
  20. Now that he was more conscious, Resonance took to looking at his surroundings. The sights were nice of course, but he'd never been blind and it wasn't as if he'd been locked in a room his whole life or held prisoner below the ground. In fact, he'd seen the outside world many a time, though it was only now that his hypnotism had lifted that he could even recall these things. What was new to him, what was completely and utterly foreign were the sounds. Sparkling emeralds darted from singing birds to dancing leaves to babbling brooke. Water in this amount was a rare thing for Resonance. He'd encountered it only once before...

    A flash of memory skirted at the edge of his thoughts, coaxing his attention back and forth between the forest and a place from his past. Long green grass gave way to blood-soaked snow. The sight of the deep red was startling against the stark white and it made Resonance sick to his stomach, left an unfavorable taste on his tongue. He tore his gaze away from the grass and settled it on the stream instead, watching the surface bounce over objects below, objects like fallen branches and the rocks nestled into the sandy, pebbly bed. The water was so clear, so untouched by man, that Resonance could easily spot the fish darting around. And then a trickle of crimson interupted the pristine flow and as the seconds ticked by, that trickle invaded the whole stream like a rapidly moving plague. The comparison was appropriate. For years, he'd been the plague. He'd cruelly taken so many lives. And now? Now he could see their faces bobbing in the red water, staring at him accusingly.

    But in a flash, the vision was gone and Resonance realized just what had shook him from his daze. It was a yelp, and when he lifted his eyes, he spotted a young man on the opposite bank of the stream. Blinking slowly, because the sounds of the forest quickly soothed any rage he'd felt from the loud yelp, the young man rose to his feet calmly, unaware that his cheeks were streaked with tears.

    Resonance studied the man closely. His tattered clothes alone spoke volumes about how he was by no means a soldier. Though...his face was familiar for some reason. Regardless, the young blonde had already decided that the man wasn't a threat. Yes, his build was a bit bigger than Resonance's, but the man also had a rather beautiful face that was at the moment marred by a look of fear.

    With an almost effortless hop, Resonance landed on the opposite side of the stream and mimicked the other by plopping down onto his bottom, hands lifting to the heavy machine still attached to his head. If only he could take it off before it malfunctioned again and sent him into a blind rage. Without it, he could just remain in the forest, away from people and violent sounds.

    It was hard to look at his own hands without seeing them stained.

    After several attempts of clawing lazily at the headpeice, Resonance sighed and let his hands drop into his lap, content to simply gaze across the two feet of space that separated him from the familiar young man.