- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Online Availability
- Almost every day
- Writing Levels
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, medieval fantasy, vampires and other supernatural creatures, magical, yaoi, mature, romance, horror. I also have a thing for darker themes. More than everything I love varied roleplays, with comedy, drama, action and dark things all thrown in.
Ide let her gaze fall to the ground, wrinkling her nose as she heard what her fellow prisoners were saying. They thought they were so brave, talking about going down with a fight instead of in a pyre, but was there really a point to it, if the end result was going to be the same? And maybe the fight seemed like a great idea for those men protecting their honour, but Ide rarely had to stop to think about honour. Instead, she had to consider how she was really small, and not really strong, even for a woman. She'd be gone in a second.
The other prisoner's will to escape -or fight- did stir something within her though. She brought her hands close to her face, and examined the hand cuffs carefully. She squinted her eyes to focus better, when she found the key hole. She lowered her hands again, as an idea started to take shape in her mind. It was crazy, and she didn't know if it'd work.
She guessed it would be the definite proof that she either still had her gods' favour, or they had given her their backs.
She further wrapped herself in the fabric, in order to completely cover herself up. Little by little, she clawed at the ground between her legs. To anyone not paying attention to her, the movement of her hand wasn't noticeable. To someone who cared to observe her, it would seem like she was scratching herself or something. Pulling out all the grass in that little piece of ground, she left the ground clean. She closed her eyes so she'd be able to feel better with her finger tips. She started taking little pieces of grass and carefully putting them on the clean piece of ground, to draw something. She had to trace her creation often with her finger, to make sure it had the correct shape, but she was managing to do it. First a long line to act as a guide, then little pieces of grass to shape the many leaves. She considered poking holes along the drawing, to represent the flowers, but then she noticed there were some cloves growing among the grass around her. Barely extending her arm from under the fabric, she picked up some cloves, went back to trace her drawing, and placed the clovers where they could now be flowers, and traced her drawing with her finger a last time.
Now she had a simple drawing of a rosemary branch, done with grass.
She curled up, now covering herself entirely with the fabric, as if she couldn't stand how cold her face was. In the privacy of the darkness, she closed her eyes, and tried to remember the most tasty meal she had ever had in her life. As she felt the saliva starting to flow in her mouth, she let it drip to the ground, wetting the ground and the drawn rosemary in her saliva. She kept doing this, now focusing her mind on something else.
Usually, when performing her magic, she wrote a little spell to recite. She never used rhymes or rhythms, she limited herself to recite what she wanted to happen in detail. But this time, the way she worked her magic was less of a craft, and more of a plead. "Please," she started in her mind, hoping her will would carry out her thoughts to her gods. "You gave me this talent. You made it so I had the possibility of learning this in my life. I've never used it to harm anyone. I've always done my best to help people with my magic. And I don't regret it one bit, since thanks to magic I managed to save his life."
She started sobbing, but she was too focused on her spell to notice -or care- if there were any worried eyes on her. Tears rolled down her face, but she didn't feel embarrassed about that in the slightest. If anything, they'd serve to water her rosemary even more, so she let them flow. "But now this talent has made it so powerful people want me burnt to ashes. I wish to hold on to this life. Even if I have to hide for the rest of my life, I think I still can help lots of people with my magic. I wish to go back to my family. To ease my parents' pain when they start to get old and their hips and backs hurt. I want to help ease the stomach pain of the nephews and nieces my siblings will give me, after they've eaten way too much in their birthdays."
Her plead was starting to sound really silly, but it came from her deepest feelings. At this part, she started whispering in a very low voice. "Please, if you haven't abandoned me... Lend me your power. I have this plant of Anthos before me. I wish her to grow strong, and in this instant." She lowered her hands to the ground, trying to leave the keyhole of the handcuffs facing the drawn plant. "I want the Anthos to grown into this keyhole, to open it from within, to break the handcuffs if necessary. I want to be set free. Please... Ciarán and Mara... If you haven't abandoned me, lend me your help. I love you, from the deepest part of my soul."
She stayed curled up, crying and waiting for the spell to work. Waiting for a response from her gods.
The other prisoner's will to escape -or fight- did stir something within her though. She brought her hands close to her face, and examined the hand cuffs carefully. She squinted her eyes to focus better, when she found the key hole. She lowered her hands again, as an idea started to take shape in her mind. It was crazy, and she didn't know if it'd work.
She guessed it would be the definite proof that she either still had her gods' favour, or they had given her their backs.
She further wrapped herself in the fabric, in order to completely cover herself up. Little by little, she clawed at the ground between her legs. To anyone not paying attention to her, the movement of her hand wasn't noticeable. To someone who cared to observe her, it would seem like she was scratching herself or something. Pulling out all the grass in that little piece of ground, she left the ground clean. She closed her eyes so she'd be able to feel better with her finger tips. She started taking little pieces of grass and carefully putting them on the clean piece of ground, to draw something. She had to trace her creation often with her finger, to make sure it had the correct shape, but she was managing to do it. First a long line to act as a guide, then little pieces of grass to shape the many leaves. She considered poking holes along the drawing, to represent the flowers, but then she noticed there were some cloves growing among the grass around her. Barely extending her arm from under the fabric, she picked up some cloves, went back to trace her drawing, and placed the clovers where they could now be flowers, and traced her drawing with her finger a last time.
Now she had a simple drawing of a rosemary branch, done with grass.
She curled up, now covering herself entirely with the fabric, as if she couldn't stand how cold her face was. In the privacy of the darkness, she closed her eyes, and tried to remember the most tasty meal she had ever had in her life. As she felt the saliva starting to flow in her mouth, she let it drip to the ground, wetting the ground and the drawn rosemary in her saliva. She kept doing this, now focusing her mind on something else.
Usually, when performing her magic, she wrote a little spell to recite. She never used rhymes or rhythms, she limited herself to recite what she wanted to happen in detail. But this time, the way she worked her magic was less of a craft, and more of a plead. "Please," she started in her mind, hoping her will would carry out her thoughts to her gods. "You gave me this talent. You made it so I had the possibility of learning this in my life. I've never used it to harm anyone. I've always done my best to help people with my magic. And I don't regret it one bit, since thanks to magic I managed to save his life."
She started sobbing, but she was too focused on her spell to notice -or care- if there were any worried eyes on her. Tears rolled down her face, but she didn't feel embarrassed about that in the slightest. If anything, they'd serve to water her rosemary even more, so she let them flow. "But now this talent has made it so powerful people want me burnt to ashes. I wish to hold on to this life. Even if I have to hide for the rest of my life, I think I still can help lots of people with my magic. I wish to go back to my family. To ease my parents' pain when they start to get old and their hips and backs hurt. I want to help ease the stomach pain of the nephews and nieces my siblings will give me, after they've eaten way too much in their birthdays."
Her plead was starting to sound really silly, but it came from her deepest feelings. At this part, she started whispering in a very low voice. "Please, if you haven't abandoned me... Lend me your power. I have this plant of Anthos before me. I wish her to grow strong, and in this instant." She lowered her hands to the ground, trying to leave the keyhole of the handcuffs facing the drawn plant. "I want the Anthos to grown into this keyhole, to open it from within, to break the handcuffs if necessary. I want to be set free. Please... Ciarán and Mara... If you haven't abandoned me, lend me your help. I love you, from the deepest part of my soul."
She stayed curled up, crying and waiting for the spell to work. Waiting for a response from her gods.