Nemaisare

blackbird claw, raven wing [ closed for El Taco Taco && Nemaisare ]

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when she looked away. Not really. There was too much philosophy in the answer for him to know it, but understanding and knowing were two very different things sometimes. Two sides of the same coin, maybe. Jules didn’t care, he only knew what he’d seen, that she’d been turning away since the slide, but he understood that, in some way, she’d been doing it far before then. He just hadn’t seen it. Well, to each their own. She’d treated with him fair, though they all were sure she had her secrets, and he wasn’t one to pry. The night and the rain may have hidden her pain this time, but not every time. It would have been rude to go poking his nose where it wasn’t wanted. He did, however, snort at her words. “Ayuh, I suppose it will, getting out of under that thing’s eye. So long’s it don’t make us all soft.” That wouldn’t do, the threat was still here, somewhere. They were all growing sure of it, but who wouldn’t seek comfort when afraid? He’d blame no one for breathing a sigh of relief once the man-thing was gone. Nor, truthfully, could he have blamed them had they then been relieved that their bad luck charm had gone away with it. He’d miss her though, and if anyone tried saying that was the end of it, he’d give them a proper clout over the head, knock some sense into their thick skulls. But his mouth opened and shut on a protest when she told him to get back inside and leave her to it. It was no use saying anything more, she’d made up her mind. He couldn’t help tucking his chin into his beard in disapproval though, even as his eyes narrowed at the rest of her words. She’d just given him something to think about, long into the night. “I’ll give it a good go, eh.” His smile was broad, more challenge than pleasure, though it wasn’t her he was challenging. Then he clapped her on the back and hitched up his cloak, pulling it in tighter with his one hand and covering the other where it was settled in a sling. “Watch yourself out there.” He had every intention of going back to the fire just as she’d suggested. At least, until he reached the door and glanced back. Couldn’t see much on a night like this, just empty shadows. Wouldn’t do to have her leave without anyone watching. He might not have believed she was the source of their bad luck, but he had his own superstitions, and Jules paid them proper mind. But let her think them through with each other for now. He turned back and let himself in at the door. ------ Shaking, he watched them leave. The man he’d bitten, the scent of his blood had lingered in his nose for some time that first day. But now, it was only a memory he held onto in case the man wanted to bite back. The other, who watched him like a dark-feathered thief. She wanted something, he did not know what. He had no meat to share. So, he just watched her. They walked away. And he was alone. In the wet. In the mud. In the night. For the first time since they’d brought him here. It was cold. He hadn’t noticed. His pacing kept him warm, his worry was for other things. The rain was too heavy, big drops striking everywhere hard. Weighing him down. He shook himself out, trying to be rid of the tracing lines the water made on his bare skin, and the cool hand it pressed against him as it soaked into the clothes on his back. No more time to sleep or think. He was alone. He wanted to leave. The air was empty of life when it had been full on his arrival. He did not want to be empty of life either. Matiir crouched over the pin that attached his chain to the ground. He already knew it went deep to hold him there. Like a tree. But trees were too big to wrap his hands around. This metal was not. He bent down, testing it with his teeth first, tugging it sideways as far as the loose mud would allow before glancing up, snuffing warily, to be sure he was still alone. Then, hooking his fingers through the same loop that held onto the end of the chain, he backed up. It did not come willingly. But it did come. Slowly. He put all his weight – not as substantial as it should have been – behind his pulling. Slipping in the mud, it was as much an effort to hold himself in place as it was to drag the pin towards him. It was a third of the way free when footsteps warned him back, and he rushed to the far end of his cage, chain snapping taut as it pulled him up short of getting anywhere. His breath rasped against the back of his throat, lips rising, nose wrinkling as he bared his teeth. His hair was in his eyes, he had no tail to raise and the mud was grabbing at his hands and feet. He wanted out. Yet when she opened the door, his warning her away only grew more insistent. He didn’t know what she wanted, and he could not escape. So, he roughed out a growl and tried to back up farther. The pin refused to move.

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

Good luck on your finals! And don't sweat getting a reply out until you've got the time. Or just need a break, I suppose. ;)

blackbird claw, raven wing [ closed for El Taco Taco && Nemaisare ]

ELMO! Heh, a thought if I take it to where Samaire comes back from packing, I could potentially take it farther, though you know better than I how she'd get Matiir out of the cell... Could I send you a bit of an idea that I'd like to incorporate? That way we'd have them outside the fort within the next two posts, without my having to steal Samaire.

blackbird claw, raven wing [ closed for El Taco Taco && Nemaisare ]

Allrighty, will do, does Samaire have plans for when she's gonna leave? Like, right now as soon as she packs up, or is she gonna wait until it's almost sun-up? I'm assuming that she will, at some point, be leaving Matiir alone for at least a little bit. Also, your signature keeps making me go 'shoes, shoes, shoes' whenever I see it. Even if I'm in the middle of a thought. Then I go right back to the thought... It is both disconcerting and hilarious. Thank you. :P

blackbird claw, raven wing [ closed for El Taco Taco && Nemaisare ]

Heeee, considering my own track record, no worries at all. lol Nice postie, yissyissyiss. Hmmm, how far would you like me to take things in my next post? I can have Samaire getting Matiir out, or I could just have Jules leaving and Matiir getting more restless and antsy.

Partner Search, Casual to Advanced

Hi, I'm actually quite interested. Your plots sound like fun.

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

I'm not sure if it's too clear, but the cart he's in is supposed to be Miria's. He didn't have time to notice that Raha wasn't tied up, which he definitely would have thought was weird... :P And I wasn't sure if there'd be any identifying features other than that. Also, it is not necessary that Miria not give him up if she finds him(which I'm assuming she will at some point unless she's really bad at packing her cart :P). She just needs to dump out the urn somewhere, and then Curdle would be able to get away on his own, unless it took her too long to find the urn. :P But if she does turn him over, then she's probably out of the rp, since it would be terrible coincidence for them to meet up three times without already knowing each other.;) however, if you think that's her most likely course of action and would like to keep playing her, we can discuss other possibilities. Yissyissyiss

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

Time was not in his favour. Neither was luck, it seemed. Circumstance had somehow conspired to win him a moment of conversation with the one woman at the market who would ask the questions he wasn’t prepared for. Or maybe it was his fault for pausing here. There was no true rush for the cloth. No real need for it either. It was meant as a memento, but there would be no one to claim it when the rite was done. But stop he had. Now, Curdle blanched at her short barrage of questions. He didn’t know how she knew, he didn’t even know what she knew. All he understood was that she was asking what he couldn’t answer. He was mourning his master, but he couldn’t say it out loud. Not least of which was the little matter of secrecy. He had to be outside the city gates before they found out. Otherwise… He wouldn’t be going anywhere. Yet, just as suddenly as she started, she stopped, midsentence, and he was left staring at her, rather lost. But while she’d managed to strike him speechless, he hadn’t lost all his faculties. He knew how to read expressions, and he saw her softening demeanour tighten again as she noticed something behind him. Who was she? What had made her lash out in so particular a way? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to ask. Instinct, or perhaps simple pessimism, told him that if he turned around, he wouldn’t have the chance to do anything else either. But he shut his eyes, took a deep breath and turned around anyway. Her mysteries she could keep. If she was looking at something bad, however, he’d like to know. He should have trusted his instinct. His movement caught the woman’s attention, and they recognised each other at the same time. She raised her hand to point, and he flinched back from that well-manicured nail. ”There he is!” For so small a lady, she had powerful lungs. The guards raised their weapons, but he didn’t stay to hear them command him to do anything. He blocked his ears, turned, and ran. Curdle cursed as he went, wasting precious breath on imprecations. He should have done it last night. Just walked out the gate, dumped Fiira’s ashes in a pile somewhere and walked away. He could have been sleeping comfortably in his cot then, instead of that spine stiffening chair! And his duty to his master would have been completed. Done with. Finished! But he hadn’t. He’d hesitated. So, now he was going to be caught, and probably tried for escape if not for murder. There were enough witnesses to know that Fiira had been sick for a while, dying slowly. But humans seemed to like a good story. Simple truth might not satisfy them. And why hadn’t that girl just told him no and been done with it? No use wasting her breath on a jinni, he usually wasn’t worth the trouble. Bah! He turned down a side street and held his breath as his pursuers, the two guards minus the woman of course, ran past, then bent double coughing as the air burned his throat. Too old for this, he’d told himself that a hundred times. Here was proof. A little illusion magic was too much effort. As quickly as he could, hoping they hadn’t heard his outburst, Curdle put more distance between himself and the guards, using the winding streets to his advantage, though it would have gone better if he’d known them more. Fiira hadn’t been one for wandering through back alleys… More than once an outburst sent him doubling back, whether or not he knew it was guards or just someone else having a bad day, caution might at least win him some time to think, if nothing else. Eventually, he found himself near the square again, and damned the routine his feet had decided to follow. Always visit the market. He’d done that! Look what it had got him. No more, he needed somewhere to hide, and never mind trying to get out. If he just waited until things calmed down again, maybe he could go back to the Lady’s house and explain things. He’d still be in trouble, but less than if they caught him trying to get out of the city without knowing why. Though… That still left him with an incomplete promise. Cursed no matter what he did, but a promise he’d meant was worth more than one he’d been forced to make. That decided it. Though it was helped in part by the winding of a horn that seemed to echo off even the clouds. They weren’t calming down, things were escalating instead… A full turning out of the guards meant that walking on the streets wasn’t a good idea. Continuing with his harebrained attempt to get out of the city was an even worse idea. But while he did stop wandering around, climbing into a mostly empty cart while a donkey eyed him suspiciously, he didn’t change his mind about getting out of Renna. If he let himself be caught, they’d take her ashes and put them in the catacombs. Hiding the urn wouldn’t work, they’d only bind him to the truth. And even if they didn’t, it would be the same as being buried in the catacombs. The urn was only meant to be a temporary container. He’d wait until dark, try to get some rest, maybe have an epiphany, maybe he’d befriend the donkey, maybe he’d be found out. But until then, he pulled a heavy canvas over him, checking to be sure there were no bits of him poking out, and took the urn out of his bag, running knowing fingers over its smoothed edge in the dark. If they did find him, he’d leave it behind. Whoever owned the cart would find it then, and maybe dump it out so they could use it for something else. An undignified method of achieving his goal, but so long as it worked…

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

Haha, no worries there, provided they get out before big trouble happens,it's all good. That, or big trouble must be escapable. :P heheheh

blackbird claw, raven wing [ closed for El Taco Taco && Nemaisare ]

Her smile was almost reassuring. Her tone… rather less so. Asuras was reminded then that he might know she wasn’t responsible for their problems, but that didn’t mean he should trust her with his family, or his problems. Though he dearly wanted to. He wanted to ask if she thought he didn’t already know that. That their trouble was only starting, and that he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how to stop it. He was tempted to ask if she did. Just in case… She’d probably think he was trying to bait her though, instead of genuinely hoping, like a fool, that she just might have an answer when no one else did. Now was not the time to let her know he was feeling the weight of his life ahead of him, instead of the lightness of what he’d already managed. In fact, there was no time when that would be appropriate. He was also, however, tempted to ask what she wanted with their strange prisoner. That was a question he could ask. But he held back, turning to look at the fellow who might well have been older than him, it was hard to tell, and puffing a raindrop off his nose while he did. “You really want him? Saw what he did to Jules’ arm, man won’t be holding a sword well anymore.” Just when he might be needing it most, too. “Well, I was going to let him go tomorrow, no use keeping him. Here.” He fished in a pocket for the keys that would undo gate and shackles, handing them over. “Leave tonight or wait for dawn, it’s all the same to me. Just make sure ain’t anyone else near for him to bite when you go.” Asuras turned to go then, having accomplished what he’d set out to. Two birds, one stone, if she wanted the man-thing, she could have him, though he wasn’t sure how she planned on keeping him with her. Spirit hunger wasn’t known for leaving folks with enough wits to feed themselves, let alone escape, and that’s what he knew folks were saying about their prisoner. But he didn’t think that’s what they were dealing with. Still, he was her problem now. But… What she’d said about the stags curled in his gut like sour milk. It echoed too closely with his own worries to be left hanging there. He didn’t know what he could say to wipe the air of it. Bravado wasn’t worth the effort. His hand fisted against his sword hilt and he turned back. “Samaire, go gently, eh. And remember us to the spirits if you hear ill.” Nagging doubts were hard to face, but he gave her a crooked grin alongside his worst fears and didn’t wait to hear her answer, moving quickly to rejoin his brother by the fire, away from the weather, where he could almost, but only almost, pretend that he wasn’t afraid of what was coming. ---------- “Wull, that settles that, don’t it fine. Not just me having nightmares, eh?” With his head and shoulders liberally draped with a double layer of heavy wool, Jules looked more like a walking potato sack than anything. A wet, walking potato sack. He’d heard most of the conversation, and couldn’t say he’d liked what he’d heard. He hadn’t meant to either, he’d just known who she was supposed to be spending guard duty with and had seen the blighter sitting pretty nursing a warm drink without any notion of heading out to join the cursed lady luck in the mud. Well, he hadn’t anything much to do with his time while he waited for his arm to heal. And damn if he’d have preferred not to hear the reminder that it wasn’t likely to. Not completely, anyway. “Wasn’t thinking on’t, but guess as I’ll be your farewell party if you’re heading on out. Though don’t see what y’want that beast for.” He couldn’t help scowling at the creature that had paused its pacing and was glaring back, a sorry sight in the downpour, but it still made him shiver. He was angry for it ruining his arm, but it was hard to stay mad at something chained up and sodden. He’d start again tomorrow. “Don’t think as Asuras were meaning for you t’keep the chain. Be a sight though, you wandering about with that’un dragging behind.” Jules snorted, then laughed roughly. Ten years younger and he might have gone with her if she wanted. Or even offered on his own. But this was his home, he’d never been anywhere else. Too old and lame now. Even the chance to leave whatever was happening behind couldn’t move him enough to do more than idly consider it. “Ahh, would’ve been nice having you stick around. Could use the new blood.” He thought she might have benefited from it too, but held his tongue on that opinion. No use bringing up what wasn’t going to happen. No use at all.