Extremum Judicium [Peregrine x Huntress]

Huntress

Feeding the wolves, don't you know better?
Original poster
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Fantasy, Supernatural, Sci-Fi, Modern, Horror, Mystery and Romance
It couldn’t be avoided; she had felt it, technically she had been behind it. Sister Frances had unwillingly created severe tension between the two of them because of her embarrassment. It had been blatantly obvious, and she had thought there was no way to come out of it. That would be it, from here on out, her relationship with this volunteer would be nothing but awkward, confusing and distracting. Nice job. She told herself. The thought caused her to grimace. You couldn’t just— before she could finish telling herself off, Sister Frances found herself frozen in place as words entered her ears and caused her expression to grow wide. Oh no…IDIOT! In her mind, the young nun was occasionally rather aggressive with herself, she found that the harshness helped her realize things that otherwise would go by unnoticed. There was a small exhale of disappointment that escaped her as she shook her head the tiniest bit. Clenching her jaw she looked at Seraphina from the other side of the car as she cleared her throat. “No.” she shook her head again. “You don’t need to apologize Seraphina. You did nothing wrong.” She explained and got in the car with a heavy sigh.

At this point, hiding her embarrassment was a waste of time. Her cheeks were still red, her skin still hot. There was nothing she could do about it; Sister Frances’ system had gone into embarrassment overdrive. Even though she told herself that she couldn’t decipher those spine-tingling, stomach knotting sensations, deep down she knew exactly what they were and what she had been feeling. “I really appreciate how you handled that situation. I’m not a fan of confrontation to be honest.” She cleared her throat as she stole a glance at the volunteer before starting the car. “I have difficulties standing my ground.” She swallowed back as she put the van in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. Feeling Sera’s eyes on her made the young nun completely avoid looking in the direction of the passenger seat unless necessary. “So, thank you for that.” Another clench of her jaw. “I just want you to know, that you have nothing to worry about. As for myself, I am okay. I will be fine.” This is just a test. She told herself as she glanced towards the young woman once more, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

That’s in the past. You are repenting for those sins.

Another storm was soon to roll in. At this pace, the colourful autumn leaves would be blown away by mother nature’s rage and the cold grasp of winter would take hold sooner than anyone would like. The evening had gone rather smoothly, Sister Frances had the assistance of Seraphina for the whole afternoon and well into the evening. The young volunteer had even decided to stay for supper. Most of the volunteers never really accepted the offer, they hadn’t known what they were missing in truth. Sister Ophelia was a phenomenal cook, her meals were always hearty and delicious.

It was towards the end of dinner time that the storm had began to grow vicious. The rain was beating against the old building, windows creaking against brutal gusts which eventually led to the orphanage being consumed by darkness. Some of the children obviously grew afraid, but candles and lanterns were quick to be found, bringing a warm glow to the interior of Saint Emiliani’s. It had taken just a little bit of extra work to get the children to sleep, promises of keeping watch were made, and with the help of Seraphina most of the children eventually fell asleep rather soundly. The storm hadn’t seemed like it would be letting up any time soon. Sister Frances was quick to offer Seraphina one of the spare rooms, after the deed was approved by her superiors. The young nun had brought her sheets and pillow cases, even offering one of her nightgowns to Seraphina if she wished to sleep in something less form fitting. The young woman knew where to find whatever she needed and was left to her own devices once Sister Frances felt she had offered all she could with a goodnight and a bright smile.

For as long as she could remember, Sister Frances always had a little trouble sleeping under a storm. Peculiar dreams of ironsmiths and forges seemed to startle her with every flash of lightning and every crack of thunder. The sound of metal being hammered was distant, the thunder certainly more prominent in her half-asleep state.

The whispers were distant, in a foreign tongue. Their Footsteps were light, a scuffle here or there, just loud enough to cause her features to wrinkle. Chains rattled, links clanking against one another, as If they were being pulled out of a bag. The whispers were muttered faster.

Faces flashed behind eyes that darted beneath closed lids and a worried expression.

There was a sudden growing tightness around her throat. Out of instinct her hands reached up and took hold of whatever had been wrapped around her throat. Fighting against the force that pulled her back she began to choke. Gasping for air she felt the same cold grip tighten around her ankles. Staring down at her legs she noticed the bindings. They pulled, the large faceless men that were hidden in shadows. Restricting her movement as she fought against the choking chain around her throat. She couldn’t speak any words as she struggled against the force. Looking up she met the face of a grizzled man, his eyes a deep cobalt blue, his hair and beard reddish brown in colour. He snarled at her before his raised fist crashed down across her face.

The explosion of thunder shook the entirety of the orphanage.

Sister Frances gasped as she was startled awake by the trembling sound. Sitting up in her bed she heard the rattling of chains once again. An unknown force pulled her back down as she crashed into her mattress. Her wrist and ankles were shackled, chains wrapped around her stomach and her neck, the tension was strong enough that she felt stuck, staring at the ceiling of her room.

Thump, thump, thump…

The footfalls were heavy against hardwood floors, echoing through the room. The flash of lightning caused her to wince and close her eyes as she whimpered. The boards creaked; her eyes held shut tightly. The bed shifted, the springs under the stiff mattress squeaking. She could feel the warmth of someone or something on top of her.


“…Laila…” The voice was a sultry whisper that was followed by a chuckle. “…Mmm…” The moan rang through her ears as she felt a body press down against hers. She could feel the warm breath against the side of her face, a nibble at her earlobe. “WAKE UP!” The nun was startled by the words that had formed into a primal growl, her eyes shooting open as she gazed upon two burning crimson streaked, amber irises. A snarl followed and revealed a fanged maw of death.

Shooting up in bed with a small scream, Sister Frances tossed her sheets off in a panic and stumbled to the floor. Crawling to the corner furthest from the door she pressed her burning hot, sweat drenched forehead against the cold wall and closed her eyes with a frown. Her hand reached for the cross around her neck. Panting breaths led to rushed prayers asking for help in this moment of darkness. Her heart raced, rapidly, drumming through her skull as she grimaced against the pain. Her nose wrinkled slightly in a small snarl, brows knitting close together as she exposed fangs to no one in particular. Another strike of thunder had her eyes shooting open, a reflective shimmer glistening against the lightning as pupils dilated. Her right palm pressed against the wall, fingernails scraping against the paint. Closing her eyes, she felt a sharp pain in her chest that spread across her ribcage with immense discomfort. The pain showed in her face as she whimpered against it. Her left hand letting go of the cross to take hold of the edge of the wall that led to the window as she opened her eyes again.

Groaning against a tense back that felt like it was shifting unnaturally, the nun pulled herself up and stumbled towards the windowsill, the ridges of her spine pressing against her flesh as she caught the sound of movement before an ear-splitting squeal ripped through her skull. Grunting against the sudden sound she keeled forward slightly before it began to fade., fingernails digging into wood. Looking up towards the window she stumbled back as she caught sight of a distorted reflection that held glowing irises. The metal frame of the bed scraped against the floor upon collision. It caused the blonde to wince and cover her ears with a small, pained sound. The rumbling of a deep growl catching her attention off to the right, from the darkest corner of the room. Lightning revealing a large dark figure that faded with the moment of brightness, the deafening thunder masking the knocks at her door.

Catching the creak of hold hinges, Sister Frances looked over her shoulder towards the figure in her doorway. Turning around to fully face whoever was there, she narrowed her glowing eyes as she slowly walked towards the foot of the bed. Her vision hazing over slightly as she tilted her head to the right a little. Blinking a few times there was an intimidating growl that rumbled in her chest. Looking to the right again, into the dark corner, Sister Frances flared her nostrils and exhaled before she looked down at herself then back up towards whoever stood in the doorway. “Hello?” She croaked out a whisper.

Was this figure even real?
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SECURITY DEPARTMENT
Invitation Status
Looking for partners
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, Multiple posts per week, One post per week, Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Primarily Prefer Male, No Preferences
Genres
High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
As she listened to Sister Frances’ reassurances, Sera studied the other woman for a moment. After half a beat, she nodded her head. “Alright,” she agreed. The Sister didn’t seem to be lying, about any of it, and Sera could only accept her response. “I’m glad I was able to help, then. If there’s anything… anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

The subsequent drive was a little bit awkward for the two, but as they settled back into the rhythm of shopping things grew more comfortable again. Additionally, there were no further events for the day, which made things easier.

It was late afternoon by the time they returned to the orphanage, the light as dim as dusk due to the heavy cloud cover that had built overhead. The car’s suspension sagged under the weight of enough groceries to feed a small army. Or, perhaps, a room full of hungry children. Both of them carried armloads of bags towards the orphanage’s kitchen, rapidly filling the dwindling pantry.

By the time they finished with everything, the sun had fully set. Outside, the trees were buffeted by a fierce wind. Sera agreed to stay for dinner the moment she was asked, her stomach already growling faintly at the smells that were coming out of the kitchen. The meal passed quickly and happily, filled by the chatter of the children.

In truth, it took little more effort to convince Sera to stay for the night, although she was careful not to let it be that apparent. She finally ‘folded’ when Sister Frances pointed out that the storm was raging in full force outside, and she didn’t have any sort of transportation to save herself from a long and cold soaking if she walked back to campus now. However, in truth, Sera had never been planning to go far from the orphanage tonight. The image of a can crumpling in Sister Frances’ hands had played in her mind’s eye over and over that evening.

And while the Sister seemed to have forgotten about the incident, Sera was not ignorant of exactly what it could mean. Her bonds were loosening, and the chances that the Sister would have another accident, large or small, were growing greater and greater.

In her own room, Sera washed off the heavy layer of makeup on her face, changed into the Sister’s long, white nightgown, and settled herself on the bed. However, resting up against the headboard, Sera’s eyes never wavered from the far wall, open late into the night.

The lightning began shortly after midnight. Ten minutes later, Sera rose to her feet.

Like a ghost, she walked out into the hallway, heading for the Sister’s door. She stopped in front of it a moment later, hesitating for half a second. A moment later, she knocked on the door lightly. “Sister Frances?”

No response.

Sera knocked a couple more times, before steeling herself. Taking a deep breath, she opened on the door.

Her eyes immediately turned towards the figure that was crouched on the other side of the room. Her eyes were wide open, and reflected a brilliant orange light that existed nowhere. One hand had practically driven its nails into the wall.

“Sister,” Sera replied lightly to the worried half-greeting. “It’s me.”

She moved further into the room then, allowing the door to swing closed behind her. At a glance, she couldn’t tell how lucid the other woman was. Picking her words carefully in case the Sister asked her about it tomorrow, Sera moved closer. “Are you alright? I heard a strange noise.”
 
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Huntress

Feeding the wolves, don't you know better?
Original poster
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Fantasy, Supernatural, Sci-Fi, Modern, Horror, Mystery and Romance
It’s me. Who was me? She wondered as she narrowed her eyes and looked at the figure before her. Finally reaching the bed she stopped. Her breathing was deep and heavy, sweat running down her back, and beading on her forehead. Clenching her jaw, she looked the person before her up and down. They were tall, very tall and thin. But they wore the same clothes as her, were they in the same place? From the same place?

“What did you hear?” Sister Frances’ head tilted the other way as she began to walk around the bed. Did the figure hear the chains? Or the growling? Another flash of lightning revealed a pale face and dark hair, but that damned dark corner of the room still held something sinister. Sister Frances’ head snapped to the right, a growl escaping from her snarled expression and towards the looming threat that she swore was waiting for her.

Glancing back towards the potential figment of her imagination, there was another once over before she started to move towards the dark corner. Staying on the edge of the abyss before her, she tried to look into the black veil, but failed to make out any shapes.

Chains rattled along with the heavy footfalls that approached her.

The young sister frowned as she whimpered slightly in worry.

Shimmering links shot forth from the darkened corner. Wrapping around her arms, neck and stomach, she was pulled into the darkness.

Stumbling into the corner with a choked cough, Sister Frances scrambled across the floor trying to save her fall and succeeding before crawling into the corner. Facing the seam where the two walls connected, she shuddered and kept her eyes shut tight with a whimper. What was happening? Why was this happening?

The heavily padded foot falls circled her, chains dragging against the hardwood floor of her room. The bone rattling growl was never ending. The sensation of the cold bindings returned, clamping shut against her wrists and ankles, her neck was spared but her torso was not. The metal went from shuddering cold to burning hot in seconds, singeing her flesh.

There was a subtle sob from the sister, her forehead pressed into the corner she had stumbled into. Hands up on either side of her, fingers digging into the old drywall, threatening to crack it as the bones in her hands shifted. The disturbing pops and snaps of sinew were uncontrolled. The scarring on her wrists, ankles, neck and midriff growing more evident, the shapes starting to match the visual of chains burnt into flesh. More parts of her form began to distort, swelling and changing; seams burst as fabric tore. But nothing was permanent, just an extended period of pain for the whimpering nun who was doing her best to stay quiet as her body literally mutated in preparation to harbor destruction and chaos.

As she felt some of the pain subside. She sniffled, her bottom lip quivering as her hands slid down the wall and rested against her thighs. Opening her eyes with shuddering breaths and dripping tears she frowned and sobbed as quietly as she could. Looking at her bloodied fingers she swallowed back. Only a moment later did she notice the glistening golden cross sprawled across the floor. Her eyes grew wide as she pushed back from the wall slightly. Picking up the cross she reached up towards her neck only to meet tender flesh. Running her thumb over the golden piece of jewellery, she seemed surprised. “Have you forsaken me?” She whispered dryly and clenched her jaw.

Shifting to sit on the floor, sister Frances leaned into the corner and brought her knees up close to her body. Her attention solely on the cross and its meaning. The creaking of the floorboards almost exploded through her ears. Catching her breath, she looked towards the sound with new vision, a much brighter but highly desaturated sense of sight. Someone stood in her room. Her eyes shimmered as her heart picked up the pace, an unintentional growl coming from the nun. Realizing what she was doing she stopped herself and cleared her throat. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to make out any defining features but failed to do so. The female figure wore a similar nightgown to hers. Was it another sister? They all knew about Sister Frances’ night terrors and none ever came in to interrupt her when she was in such a state.

Looking back down at the cross she went to clasp it shut but soon realized that it hadn’t been taken off properly. The chain had actually snapped. Gripping it tightly in her hand she slowly pushed herself up. Her form wobbling ever so slightly, every single fiber of her being twinged against the slightest movement. Her entire body was sore. The nightgown overall, looked a little more snug in places that had managed to survive and not tear against the brief changes that took place just moments ago. In combination with her profuse sweating, Sister Frances would’ve been rather embarrassed had she known that her nightgown had now become rather translucent in those damp, snug areas.

A surprising physique seemed to be hidden under the layers of the nun’s flowing grey and white habit. The large pieces of fabric she had to wear drowning the well toned musculature of her body. Her usually wavy hair was currently frazzled and damp. Some was sticking to her skin, while the rest of it seemed to go in random directions, as if to further showcase just how lost and confused the poor woman currently was. Her hair was usually a sweet and warm honey blonde, but in its current wet state, seemed a little darker. Swallowing back, she shuffled towards the other figure slowly. Blinking rapidly and rubbing her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision, which seemed to haze over every now and then. Sister Frances eventually came to a halt. Cutting a deep breath short in surprise when she had gotten close enough to make out the familiar features, she gulped back as her irises reflected the lightning from outside.

“Sera?” She managed to ask before the sound of thunder shook the building again.

The young volunteer looked surprisingly different without all the layers of make-up the Sister had been used to seeing, and it wasn’t necessarily in a bad way.

“Have you been here long?” Her words were grainy, her throat had been incredibly dry. Looking away she swallowed back and cleared her throat before trying to stand tall, an embarrassed but shy glance was stolen as her stomach fluttered. Scoffing at herself Sister Frances closed her eyes and shook her head. “I—I’m sorry if I woke you.” She mumbled. “I get night terrors.” She explained, looking up towards Sera like an animal that had knowingly done something wrong. “They tend to get bad during storms.” She smirked sadly and looked away. “I should’ve offered you a room that was further away.” The nun stated with a hint of sadness in her words.

Scolding herself internally for being an inconvenience and disruption to the volunteer’s sleep, Sister Frances looked back up at Sera. She had offered her the room and everything during a storm, how didn’t she think of that when she was helping with the pillows and blankets? You were too distracted by your excitement. Excitement towards things you shouldn’t be feeling or even thinking about. Breaking eye contact once more she clenched her jaw towards her thoughts. Her eyes fixed on the floor, unblinking as she processed an array of internal debates and arguments. “I’m sorry.” She muttered again, although she didn’t bother to look up at Sera this time.

Opening up her hand she looked at the cross, studying it she sighed heavily and eventually looked at the other with a subtle smile that was quick to fade. Was this her punishment? Or was it her test? Is this how she had to prove her faith? To fight against this unnatural pull she felt towards this stranger? Was this her vice?

Why? Was all she could ask herself.
 

Peregrine

Waiting for Wit
SECURITY DEPARTMENT
Invitation Status
Looking for partners
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, Multiple posts per week, One post per week, Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
Primarily Prefer Male, No Preferences
Genres
High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Caught in an endless loop of uncertainty, Seraphina didn't dare move further into the room. The burning anxiety in the middle of her chest urged her to rush forward, to offer the cowering Sister a hand, a hug, something to help stabilize and comfort her. Her obligations, her duties—and the fact that Sister Frances did not seem entirely stable at the moment—kept her in place.

She couldn't risk what results would come about if her comfort wasn't well received. If the Sister hated her presence, and if she was lucid enough to remember all this tomorrow, it could destabilize the bond she'd worked so hard to build with the other woman over the past week. Worse yet, if she felt pressured, attacked, invaded... endangered by Sera's approach, and she lashed out? That result could cause all hell to break loose.

Of course, Seraphina knew that, eventually, this peaceful time would have to end. Already events were accelerating towards their proper course, and this thunderstorm was only more proof of that. But if Sera could maintain it, even for another day, she considered it worth the effort.

So how could she move? But, seeing the young woman like that, how could she not?

Her stasis born from confusion abruptly tipped at a half-muttered phrase from the Sister. Sera was moving before she even realized she'd made a decision, kneeling carefully in front of Sister Frances. She positioned herself slightly outside of arm's reach, hoping that the distance would balance her desire to offer comfort and closeness to the nun, while also preventing her from feeling threatened.

"Hey," she said softly, voice sweet but firm. "You're not forsaken. I'm here. I promise."

Sera had no way of knowing if her words helped, or if they even reached Sister Frances, but she watched the other carefully, trying to keep her eyes trained on nothing but the Sister's face. Her patience gradually began to pay off, as she saw the Sister's eyes slowly returning to focus. Finally, they seemed to meet eye to eye.

"I'm right here, Sister," she agreed, before a small frown crossed her face. "I'm glad you didn't put me further away. You shouldn't have to be both scared and alone. I'm glad I was here."

Convinced that the Sister wasn't going to suddenly lash out, Sera crept a little bit closer. One hand reached out to the sweat-soaked woman, gently wrapping around her shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
 
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