Riven Wight

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

... Oops! Sorry for missing that. In my defense, I read it on my phone, which I'm not entirely used to doing. xD Haven't gotten the chance to reread yet. Thanks!

Hope you've had a good couple/few weeks!

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As Riley pondered over her last question, Izzy watched the child leave. Perhaps she had thought wrong, that he had, in fact, sacrificed sleep to watch over her. Concern settled over her face at another thought; were his labored, sluggish steps perhaps due instead to the extra day without blood?
Her attention returned to Riley when the man thought of a resolution, taking his outer shirt off. Izzy caught it when he tossed it to her, and took a moment to straighten it out.
“Of course,” she nodded at his request of the shirt’s return, trying to not make a face at the unpleasant odor it retained. She had smelt worse, after all. “I appreciate it.”
Thankful for the button-down front, she put her injured arm into a sleeve first, careful to not move it too much for fear of hindering its healing.
“Thanks, by the way.” She jerked her head toward her left shoulder. She shrugged her other arm into the shirt, continuing as she buttoned it up. “How do we separate the White Wolf from Trevor? And did you find his parents, by chance? I kind of left them in an alley.”

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Still walking her bike beside her, her teeth grinding together with each step, Izzy forced herself to focus on the road before her. She did not get far before her world began to spin, and her legs threatened to give out. With a pained moan, she gave in and fell to her knees, her bike clattering to the ground beside her.
With the palm of her remaining hand on the concrete, she glanced to her shoulder, and tried to swallow down a wave of nausea. Despite her attempt at slowing the bleeding, red soaked her thin scarf and dripped from it in a slow, uneven pace before, within seconds of splattering against the road, turning to vapor. At least leaving a suspicious trail of blood would not be a concern.
She glanced down the darkened street, and swallowed hard at the list of concerns she did have. Trevor was still in trouble. The White Wolf was running about town, doing who knew what. The park--and Riley, as far as she knew--was still a good distance away. She had no method of contacting anyone who could help in her present condition. And she was fading fast, a dark film threatening the edges of her vision.
Something between anger and fear rose in her chest. Anger at the Wolf, and at herself for not being capable of doing more to stop the aberration. Fear for what would become of Trevor, and for her life. But at least, she supposed, she would not have to worry about explaining how she lost her arm. That was one conversation she found herself oddly glad to avoid in the moment.
Her teeth ever clenched and hand balled into a fist, what little of her strength remained gave out, and her arm buckled from her weight. Before her head met the ground, her world went black.

Consciousness returned to Izzy sluggishly, like a frightened animal. Izzy groaned and stirred, the gentle glow of daylight just managing to penetrate her eyelids. Her body felt heavy, and the night before felt like one big blur of indistinguishable nightmare instead of a clear reality.
The hard surface of what felt like desks beneath her back made her furrow her brows, still not quite willing to open her eyes. Though she did not remember laying down, she thought she must have fallen asleep at the school. It was, after all, pretty late when she had arrived.
Finally, she opened her eyes, and stared up at the all too familiar ceiling. A light too deep a gold for it to be morning morning shone bravely through any cracks it could, though even its glittering courage only managed to deepen the spooky atmosphere of the abandoned classroom in its sorry state of neglect.
With a heavy breath, she ran her right hand through her hair, wondering how long she had been asleep for, then moved both arms to prop herself up on the bed of desks.
A fiery pain shot through her left arm, making her cry out. She fell back against the desks, breathing through her teeth as the memory of the night before came rushing back. She tenderly reached over to her wounded arm, waiting for the pain to dim into a dull ache, and tenderly fingered the bandages that apparently kept it in place. Only then did she realize why she had felt the texture of the desks better than normal, but the current condition of her arm took precedence over her shirtless state.
Realizing that she had, in fact, moved her arm, she slowly bent her elbow to raise her hand for better viewing, and wiggled her fingers. She gave a relieved sigh and leaned her head back against the desks as the emotion flooded through her; her arm was back where it belonged, and functional.
The gentle sound of a breath made Izzy turn her head to where the child sat against her. During the night’s events, she had all but forgotten about him. A pit formed in her stomach at the expression he gave her, adding a silent insult to injury. It was amazing how belittling and condescending a simple look could be, especially on the face of a child.
Izzy swallowed, and returned his look with a scowl. “Don’t look at me like that!” she snapped, carefully reaching back with her good arm to prop herself up slightly. “I’d like to see you take on that monster in your current state!”
She pulled herself into a sitting position, and glared down at the child for a moment, his expression changing either in a short moment she looked away, or with her angle. She sighed, and her expression softened slightly. She bent forward and placed her forehead in her palm. Her fingers tangled in her hair, her hair tie long since lost somewhere between street and school. She still had not fed Cerasus, she had one arm out of commission, and the White Wolf was still gallivanting about in Trevor’s body, as far as she knew, but the child seemed to want to live, now. At least she had that bit of good.
Izzy’s attention snapped to the doorway at the sound of Riley’s voice.
“Riley!” she breathed when he stopped speaking. She tried to get to her feet a bit too quickly. Her legs still a tad shaky, and she slapped her right palm against one of the desks to steady herself. “Trevor... the White Wolf... It--it’s possessing him or something! I tried to delay him--it, but...” She bent her head and looked to her arm, once more placing a gentle, tentative hand on the bandages wrapping the side of her arm, and licked her lips. “It didn’t exactly work,” she finished quietly. She looked back to Riley. “We have to find Trevor before the Wolf hurts anyone else!”
She took a step toward the door and Riley, but then glanced down at herself. She cleared her throat awkwardly and shifted her weight when she fully realized she was standing in a room with two men, lacking a shirt. “I, uh, don’t suppose you have a spare shirt I could use, do you?”

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Hey! Yep, the interest is definitely still here. It takes more than waiting for posts to make that diminish for me. :-) However, I'm the one who will be delaying for a while here. A friend of mine ended up coming to town. I'm not sure how much time I'll get in the next week or two to reply. Wanted to give you that warning!

EDIT: By the way, that whole conversation between Pahn and Odin... That came before or after Anora came back in? That was a bit confusing with the order you mentioned things. I'm assuming before, but figured I should ask.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Drust’s eyebrows twitched upward at Ghent’s reaction, his stony gaze glancing once between Ghent and the phone.
“That’d probably be best for everyone involved.”
“Indeed,” he grumbled, fingering a few more fries and watching Ghent gather his few things.
Elayra snorted at his commitment of return, glaring with a doubtful scowl into the cup at the remainder of the milkshake. She jabbed the straw in the melting liquid.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Elayra snapped at Ghent’s further offers. Drust’s pale lips pulled downward, though whether because of her tone or Ghent's words, she could not say for sure. “We’ll be fine, Ghent. So run along." She flicked her fingers dismissively at him. “Do what you need to do, and we’ll see you in the morning. Hopefully,” she added with a soft snort.
Drust glared at her. “As Elayra has so eagerly demonstrated,” he began stiffly. He looked back to Ghent, “it appears we can create our own light, if necessary. You have done plenty for us as it is.” He nodded jerkily toward their mostly empty bags of fast food. “Go home. Say your farewells. Prepare yourself,” he concluded in a stern voice demanding obedience.

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Izzy swallowed, hard, when the Wolf turned to her, and she tried to relax, to show nothing but a display of terrified respect. When he bore his fangs, she stepped uneasily back, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she could not breathe as he spoke, his mouth moving with a voice that did not belong to Trevor.
“A-as you--” she stuttered, trying to appease him, wishing the wrath disfiguring his face would disappear, but one moment he was a fair distance away, and the next, he was on top of her. Her words cut off in a scream as a searing pain speared through her arm and shoulder.
Spots flooding her vision, the Wolf’s next words to her sounded distant and garbled, but she heard them nonetheless.
It took her a moment to realize the Wolf had left, but all that mattered was that it was gone. And still in Trevor’s body. Eyes scrunched shut and teeth grinding together, Izzy rolled onto her stomach with agonized groans, propping herself up on her remaining arm as crimson soaked the sidewalk.
With heaving breaths, she forced herself into a kneeling position She looked to her shoulder with a mix of pain and shock, then unwrapped her thin scarf from her neck with a shaking hand. Though she didn’t know her full limitations, she had no desire to find out if severe blood loss was one of them.
She had to move. And fast.
With no little effort and in more time than she would have liked, she managed to wrap the scarf around the wound, trying to stifle a cry when she tightened it with hand and teeth to stanch the wound. Bent over, her hand a tight fist on the sidewalk in front of her, she looked to Trevor’s guardians.
She bent her head, gave a groaning sob, then forced herself unsteadily to her feet. There was no telling what the two had seen, whether or not they thought Trevor had attacked them. She could not leave them in the open--the dark stain saturating the pavement was suspicious enough on its own, if anyone decided to venture out this late--but there was no way she could drag them, one-handed and bleeding, back to their beds to hope they would wake up thinking everything was a nightmare.
Swallowing hard, she wiped the blood slickening her hand onto her pants and began the tedious task of dragging the two into the nearest alleyway, making sure they were out of sight, though she treated them none-too-gently. She checked to see if they were still alive, letting the pain radiating from her shoulder fuel an anger for the Wolf and toward herself; she could not do anything to help her friend regarding his living situation, and there had been nothing she could do to stop the Wolf from gallivanting about using his body.
Once she was content enough that Trevor’s guardians weren’t visible from the street, she returned to her bike. Her jaw clenched as she looked to the severed limb, laying just outside the glow of the streetlight. It neither regrew, nor disappeared.
She couldn’t leave that there, either, even if she wanted to.
Izzy stuffed the arm in her backpack as well as she could, which had sat discarded and already soiled with red not far from it, and tried to not look at it. She had had more than her share of disembodied limbs for one lifetime. Only this time, it was hers. Her stomach did a few sickening flips. Whether from handling the limb or a loss of blood, she could not say.
Hoping Riley knew of a way to reattach it, she slung the pack over her right shoulder. She walked her bike beside her and took the side roads, just in case, leaning some of her weight on the bike and trying to prevent aggravating her shoulder further. She went as fast as she could toward the park, grimacing and hissing whenever she moved wrong, and hoping Riley would not have gone too far from the park yet. To say things had gotten “hairy” would be an understatement.

Schooled in Magic

Jazelle jerked her chin upward in response to Pricilla’s greeting, then followed her back into the maze of hallways. This time, she did not bother to try keeping track of where they went. If this route would be anything like the last, she had no hope of remembering the twists and turns.
“It had to take you years to memorize the halls here,” Jazelle muttered, her hands ever in her muff. She eyed every soul who passed by with a suspicious curiosity. Though she paid the servants and whatever they may be carrying a quick glance, she had to do a double-take when she noticed one far different from the others.
Her steps faltered, and she gawked at a person carrying a glass case. But it was not the book with a heavy aura he carried, nor the gemstone in his forehead that caught her attention; her gaze settled on his blank, white eyes. When he passed, she shuddered from a mix of eeriness of his eyes, and the aura of the well-protected book as it brushed against her.
Shaking her head, she looked back to Priscilla, who had gotten ahead of her, then hurried to catch up, her shoulders hunched. She cast the strange man a glance over her shoulder, wondering if that was a result of something Sunder did, or if he was another race entirely.
Though the door Priscilla stopped to open was not as grand as the one to the dining hall, it was still impressive for an interior door.
Jazelle hung just in the doorway for a moment as a man and two women turned to the newcomers She looked to the various tailor’s tools hanging from their belts, from a couple sizes of scissors to a custom-made pincushion studded with pins. Her fingers wrapped almost subconsciously around her butterfly knife, watching with narrowed eyes as the trio began prattling among themselves as if picking up a conversation she and Priscilla had interrupted.
Jazella cast Priscilla a glance, her brows raised, that asked if she was serious, when the tailors apparently decided it was time to pay them some attention.
She shifted awkwardly as they eyed her thrift-store clothing and hoodie. She caught Priscilla’s look, and heeded it. The last thing she wanted was to tip off anyone else she was not from this world.
Apparently satisfied--or maybe they just simply did not care--with Priscilla’s vague answers to their questions, they began throwing out terms and fabrics, some Jazelle caught and recognized, and others she could only offer blank stares to. At the mention of robes, Jazelle looked down at herself and the already light gray of her favorite garment, wondering what would become of it. Maybe she could sneak it back to her room and shove it in her backpack.
Jazelle scowled as she remembered she had dropped her backpack back in the courtyard with the Necromancer.
“As long as they’re comfortable. And have pockets,” she grumbled, moving her hands inside the muff in emphasis of pockets. She paused, and glanced to the wood-paneled floor. It had been years since she had had more of an option than what people had decided to donate. "Maybe hidden pockets?" She leaned forward, then stepped further into the room to get a better look.
A few skeletal, wooden mannequins that looked handmade stood around the room, some draped with clothing in various stages of creation. Rolls of fabric, ribbon, and lace lined one wall. A couple sewing machines, the likes of which Jazelle had only seen in museums, waited against the far wall, an unfinished garment caught beneath the needle of one of them.
“You’ve been doing this for a while, I take it?” she grumbled absently, looking to an elegant dress decorated with stones that glittered in the light filtering in through a large window taking up the top portion of the back wall.

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

OOPS. Sorry for not responding here sooner. That's awesome your sister is visiting! I hope you guys have a wonderful time together! Family should always come first. :-) And sweet! A mysterious haze is always fun to watch/read/write about characters getting through. After all, in real life, we're not given all the answers we seek in one quick go! Where would the fun be if we didn't have to work for them, and seek them out? Same totally goes for stories.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Woo! Three posts each today! Not sure if I should be congratulating us, or thinking I might want to try finding something else to do on Friday nights outside of RPing and writing. xD

Story of My Life (Not that I'm Complaining)

Through temperament and archery. I’m a brunet, though I swear my hair likes to look as frizzy as hers sometimes. Kudos for remembering that about the status! I used to do archery fairly often, but ended up not doing it for about the past year. FINALLY got a target put up in the barn, though! Ha! That’s great she used to call you that. I have seen National Treasure. I agree that it’s a great movie!

Oh my gosh. Darn grandmas! Why must they be so stereotypical, sometimes? Heh. Seriously, though, it’s really nice that you have a grandma who cares like that. :-) Don’t underestimate the value of that (not that I think you are!). Hmm. We have mint chip ice cream. And milk. Maybe I’ll pick up some mangos the next time I’m at the store, and try to make my own. *Grabs a hat from a hook and places it over my heart.* Let us have a moment of silence for the forgotten brownie mix. *Bows head in reverence.*

Alrighty! If you do think of something you currently favor before we get to that, just let me know. It would help me narrow down my options. xD

Aren’t they neat? So many weapons, so little time! That’s awesome you got him something like that for Christmas! Someday, I want to get a pair of hook swords to add to my collection. I’ve liked those since I saw an episode of Deadliest Warrior with a monk who used them. When I saw Jet from Avatar: The Last Airbender using them, I was like, “Yessss.”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra glanced to Ghent, and sniggered in a twisted sense of humor at his desired uneasy reaction.
“Because being beaten by a slide is so much better?” she asked relatively lightly, smirking at him with amusement in her eyes. She tossed the dagger easily into the air as she reached for the sheath with the other hand. It twirled once before she caught it by the hilt and slid it back into the sheath in a single swift motion.
With Drust apparently more interested in his fries and the milkshake than her and Ghent’s exchange, Elayra shrugged in answer to his questions.
“Basically, nasty warrior cat people.” She tossed the sheathed dagger toward their packs, and it landed with a soft thump on hers. “Well, kind of people. They’re higher-ranking beasts in the Sorceress’ army. Ugly brutes, to top it off.”
Elayra watched Ghent with a tight smile as he stood, still apparently unnerved. A flicker of fear crossed her eyes when she realized he would be taking their current source of light, but she quickly tried to brush it away.
“There’s no need for you to remain with us tonight,” Drust finally spoke up, the box of fires in one hand and a few fries held in the other. “Go home. Prepare yourself and your family for your departure.”
Elayra swirled the melting shake around in the cup, her face hard with an unspoken objection.
“Return here by dawn's first light.” Finished, Drust ate the fries he had been holding.