Fantasy The Labors of House Tristan

[Killigrew]

Gawen


Dull pain registered, felt like a headache spread out over his entire body, pulsing with time.


It was overbearing.


A low, crackling moan broke out from dry lips. The taste of sand and grit crunched as his teeth closed together.


His hand gripped into sand, aching with the movement, burning all over.


"Aghhh." He was itchy, demandingly itchly. Every slight of movement caused new zapping of torment up his skin, all over. Sand caked one side of his face as Gawen raised up from the pouring ground, fighting past his body's demands. Frozen salt water lapped at his bare feet as he pulled away. Rags hung on his arms, shredded from the sea's sharpened teeth and demanding grip.


The sun was bright, the sky amazingly clear. It seemed almost wrong for it to be so perfect now. Only last night...


Gawen's eyes shot open as the context hit him. Where he was, the storm that had thrown him there, all swirled together in his mind as he dizzily shifted from his stomach to his butt, toes still swelling with the ocean's water. He pulled his free hand, one gritted with sand, across his eyes, cringing as he did. They stung as he opened them, burning from dust and pain, but he bore through it. The light absorbed into his sight, burning past to ignite the world around him, which blinked into existence. He saw first his own limbs. Bruises coated his arms and legs, thick black swelling with a dull blue, snaking around his body.


He hissed, seeing the bright red underside of his arm. The sun had not been kind in its beating heat.


The lifeboat was half-buried in the sand, from Gawen's observation only the hull stuck out. It was almost ridiculous, but, breathing deep, Gawen came to see how fortunate he was to be alive. He sent silent thanks to his God, too tired to shift to his knees to do it.


Really, he was too tired to do anything but fall back and lay down. He hurt all over, and was too exhausted to do anything. His brain felt like mush... Bones.





It wasn't the crash at all, but his infernal condition that was the issue. Gawen could fight through this. It was familiar. It was an old antagonist, tiresome in its dogged pursuit of his life. But Gawen hadn't let it win yet, and would not let it win now. Gritting his teeth, Gawen moved to his feet, or tried to. Halfway through the abrupt movement, he crashed into the sand, sliding bruised and sunburnt elbows deep into the sand. Spluttering, coughing, he kicked his feet against the sand and pulled himself up, shaking his head, clearing it, and taking a look around.


Scattered bodies lay all around him. Sand stretched wide, a high cliff rock stretched up, too high to walk over, only to climb. He gauged his fingers could just touch the top of it, but merely glancing at it already exhausted his further. The place had been naturally fashioned for ambush; it looked like a trap, for the cliff stretched all around him in a confining circle.


He turned his gaze back to the collection of tattered bodies. Guards, guests, assorted people. With a slow dawning, he remembered to count, and tallied four bodies (or at least one body and bunch of shining metal in the sea) around him by a glance. One woman, by the dress, three guards, armor sinking them deeper than the rest. They looked like the cat had dragged them right out of the ocean, so far in the water were they, the sheen of their armor the only telling sign that they had even existed.


His throat crackled as he tried to call out, his voice a wispy breath. His breath coming out ragged, he could hear his heart beating in his ears, but with a grunt, he set off to it. The girl's half-sunken form faced the sky. Gawen dropped to his knees beside her. Her face struck a chord.


"Emeline." He croaked. Swallowing down a gritty throat, he reached out, shaking her shoulder, saying her name again. He got more frantic as time passed, using both hands, shaking her violently, his croaking voice demanding she wake up. When he thought he saw her eyelids flutter, he dropped her immediately and fell back against the sand.


@Auren


--


Equivocal Era: The Renaissance


Cultural Movement: The Age of Reason


Circumstance:


This world is one rife with life. In this land, monsters of all kinds, the dragons most fearsome of all, roam the wild wooded hills. Walled cities are connected through this uninhabitable stretch of land by roads less traveled and sea routes trafficked with ships.


House Tristan, a family headed by a duke, a position second only to their king, hosts the maiden voyage of their Bridget, a beautiful creation of ship so massive and so luxurious that jealousy struck the hearts of all that viewed it. And when it set off from the harbor, en route to the city Vurtiala, the clouds clustered black in the blue sky. It was too sudden to prepare for, too powerful to overcome.


A ship full of political friends and enemies is taken by storm, the pelting water overcoming it, sinking it, and obliterating wood and polished metal, the brawn of nature crushing this ship beneath her impartial hostility.


The ship sinks. And only a few escape, rushing into lifeboats, and are covered in waves in an instant.


They awake the next morning.


Washed up on the beach.


The wild surrounds them.


--


TBD


--


1) Obey my every word


2) Don't take liberties in storystuffs without checking with me first. Just pass it by.


3) Drink chocolate milk while you write your post.

 

[Auren]

Emeline


The sun was hot on Emeline’s skin like a warm bath. Her body felt heavy around her and she couldn’t remember why. She wondered if she had fallen asleep on the top of the ship, near the patio area again. Normally, she wouldn’t let her skin touch so much sun, as it would turn her skin red, or worse, darken it. Though, a few moments basking never hurt her complexion. She could hear waves near her. Had they docked already?


At the destination, she was to be wed within the week to some boring old man. She didn’t mind that she would be moving up, but she would have to lose her friends. She saw their faces in her mind, heard their voices as they seemed to talk to her. Emeline,they seemed to say, a smile on their lips. They were teasing her for being so forward with how she felt about her situation. Books, she had told them, she would have countless books on artifacts. She might even get to buy an artifact for herself, start her own museum even!


Then, their voices got louder. Emeline! They screamed. They were laughing louder at her now, how posterous she was being. She huffed. It wasn’t that funny. The world began to shake, and the girls that had surrounded her in the sun melted away to thrashing waves, a horror of a storm. Her eyes opened and immediately whatever held her, shook her, had dropped her.


She laid there for a moment, looking up at the clear sky. Had she been dreaming? Sand coated her arms and dress, and as she propped herself up onto her elbows, she noticed how heavy her dress was. It’s silk was completely ruined, soaking up all the water that touched it, and the embroidery was dinged with nasty sea water. Salt coated her feeble skin and she couldn’t move without feeling it scratch her skin. She frowned and didn’t even want to think what kind of state her hair was in. She looked over at the man that had dropped her and noticed that it was Gawen.


He looked terrible. What skin of his that she could see was coated in nasty bruises and he was as coated in scum as she was. She started to say his name, only to realize her throat was dry, and she felt incredibly thirsty. She licked her lips, grimacing at the taste of salt. “Gawen?”her voice croaked. Then, her gaze traveled around them, to the cliff that surrounded them and to the metal from the guard’s suits. The ocean was before them, its waves lapping upwards toward them.


Debris floated about in the water, most of it was wood from their ship. She barely remembered the pounding rain that felt like needles on her skin, being pushed into a lifeboat with a guard before it crashed to the water. The waves were so large, and as the lifeboat collided with the water, her head had bashed against the guards metal plate. She reached her hand to her head, feeling a numb pounding, like a tiny hammer that was hitting her head every seconds. When she touched the spot, she felt the tangles of her hair, and something thick and warm flowed into her hand.


Pulling her hand back, she looked down at the red liquid. She was bleeding. She looked back at Gawen. Emeline pushed herself up in an attempt to stand, only to fall back down again. Her dress was heavy, and she couldn’t move properly. She was too much of a lady to crawl, so she tried to stand again. This time she made it to her feet, but as she took a step, she feel back to her knees. She caught herself with her palms outreached before she hit the sand face-first.


She looked to Gawen again,and swallowed her pride. It was no use. “Where are we?” she asked him. Looking at the damaged lifeboat, and again at the cliff around them, she felt a sense of despair. Were they stranded?

 

[Killigrew]

Gawen


The boy practically fell over in relief when Emeline sat up. It was breath-taking, seeing her alive. Gawen let out a long breath, falling back on one hand against the sand. The water was swelling against his left side, soaking his torn trousers and fallen hand, chafing the wounded skin. But he didn't care. She was pale, sand-caked, and, from her face, stunned, but she was alive. And that was everything to him. Gawen's mouth trembled towards a growing smile.


"Yeah." He whispered when she said his name. "Gawen."


He looked her over, pensive. Cuts traced along her arm, her lips were cracked with white, caked with the dust of the sea, and her dress, large, soaked, hung around her like an overused sponge. The sun had dried them out as the sea had filled them up -- but with nothing that lasted. What was it his mother had said? The ocean is unfriendly life. Her words were proven true. The water of the surf had chafed their legs raw, soaked their clothes, and given them no moisture to last. It was unnatural cold. His eyes growing heavy with exhaustion, Gawen followed Emeline's gaze as she surveyed the wreckage swept up from the night before, sharing in her mixed wonder and fear.


When he turned back to her, she was pulling her hand from her head, perceiving the resulting stain.


He could see the slick, wet scarlet on her fingers, spreading onto her palm and could not tear his eyes away. They locked on to it, and the boy was stricken with fear on her behalf. She was wounded, harmed; its excess trickled down, matted and caked the side of her hair. How had he not noticed it before? In growing concern, one shaking hand trembled towards his face, covering one side with curling fingers as he gathered the composure to speak.


Gawen swallowed. "We're..." His vision swam; his hands were cold... numb. "I don't... I don't know where..."


He followed the cliffside. He knew himself trapped. Not only from the landscape, but from his body. The condition wasn't better; it was worse. And he had nothing to feed it. The monster set a cloud over his vision without warning. It sucked away his thoughts, rendered him weak. Useless. Pathetic.


Gawen grit his teeth, thinking of the woman before him. He had to help her. He wanted to be of use. But, though the thought churned nausea in his stomach, she might be better off without him.


"We'll... look around. Let's.. we can figure something out." There had to be other people that survived. They couldn't be the only ones. And among them, there had to be someone that knew what they were doing, where they were, that could protect them. Emeline and Gawen were who knows where, but someone might be able to lead them home.


All the guards and their metal carcasses said otherwise. They declared that hope futile, but Gawen disregarded them, and pressed on.


Struggling to his feet, pushing himself up by use of the wrecked boat's outstretched, snapped wood, Gawen offered her his trembling hand, vision blurring as his legs straightened. He shook his head.


And then something shuddered on the edges of his sight.


He blinked.


It was on the edges of the sea, just as the water rescinded its touch, a strange, large-headed creature squirmed, positioned yards away from them but its one hollowed yellow eye facing him all the while. It wiggled onto its back, something like fins writhing against the malleable earth, slashing into it. It rose, large head cracking with its a large mouth that opened up against the heavens, snapping at air, a loud clack sounding out at the movement.


Waves crashed against the beach a second time, and two more wriggling beasts released from the bubbling waves.


They began to waddle towards them all at once, snapping their teeth, beady eyes hungry as the sea spat out three more behind them.


"Bones..." Gawen whispered, reeling back, stumbling. "Emeline." His hand stretched out, one finger pointed at the growing swarm. "Emeline, you need to run. Now."


He steadied himself against the half-sunken boat, clouded mind trying to think past the fear, past the paralyzing terror that shook him like a leaf.


He had a role. He had to take care of them. Of her.


But Gawen's legs gave out as the creatures neared, dropping him against the debris-coated ground. A breath broke out of him, a near scream.


He could hear their snapping teeth, clicking, clacking, their fins hissing against the sand. His fist closed against the porous ground, mouth stretching thin, his teeth breaking past as he counted himself doomed.

Spoiler

Large-headed beasts with teeth most sharp. Their giant heads make walking difficult, but their bloodthirst gives them cause to never give upon a target until their gluttonous hunger for blood is satiated.


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[Auren]

Emeline


Stranded. They were stranded. Emeline felt her breath grow shallow as her eyes traveled over the cliff’s edges. Behind them, sand stretched across until rocks jutted out, like pointy pimples. The rocks grew larger in size as they neared the wall, and were scattered in a random maze-like configuration. There was the wall behind, and the sea ahead. She placed the hand that held the blood from her head injury over her heart. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as if she were a panicked bird.


Gawen’s words of encouragement, to find an escape, did not improve her condition. Look around, he says? He obviously could not tell that her dress was too heavy. Looking over the boy’s condition, she watched as he seemed to be fighting his own body. He was coated in more bruises and cuts than she had ever seen on a man, and she wondered if the sea had bashed him so horribly, or if his body was weak from not getting enough sun in his youth. She vaguely recalled hearing that he was always ill has a child, and was never taken out of his room until he reached the age of 12.


Looking at the dead soldiers, Emeline felt her eyes widen. Was that their fate? To die here with the already dead, to surrender to the ocean. Her heart thumbed against her chest. She had thought of how she would have died, and this was not what she had in mind. She wanted to die in a museum, surrounded with the best, most interesting treasures of the world, and of old age. She would not accepting anything other, she gritted her teeth. Death would not have her die in such an unbeautiful, undignified state. She wouldn’t allow it.


Emeline felt something move to her side, and spotted the hand held out to help her up. Rightly so, she thought. But her shallow quick breaths had made her light headed, and she had to close her eyes to try to steady her breathing. She was Emeline Stanburry, and she would not allow her fate to be taken by some wild ocean and its sands. She could only be charmed by dignity, beauty, and power. Anything less that came her way would have to surrender to her demands.


When her eyes opened and her breath had calmed, she saw the fish, the Walking Fish. She screamed as their teeth snapped and she barely hear Gawen’s suggestion of running. She tried to stand and back away, but her dress was too heavy. The fish drew closer and her voice cracked. Her scream was hoarse and she felt drained. She fell backwards, landing on her bum with her hands behind herself. She tried to drag herself away, but the tough fabric of her crinoline caught onto a piece of wood from the sunken ship. The fish were almost to her feet.


She hurried to pull herself away, panicked and weak, but she only bobbed as the log would not release its hold. She felt her breath become shallow again. That’s when she caught the glint of the soldier’s armor near her. If she cut her dress, she could run. But the thick fabric of her crinoline-- she reached behind herself with her hands, feeling them numb against her dress's lace as she tried to find the latch that would release the crinoline from her waist.


When she found it, and got it loose, one of the fish had snapped its jaws over her foot. She screamed, and waved her foot about kicking the other fish away with their companion. She pulled herself away, released from her hold to the log, and crawled backwards to the soldier’s armor. The fish were only stunned for a moment. and the one that had attached itself to her foot stayed.


She screamed and faltered as the fish clamped its sharp teeth down harder, tightening its hold. She felt the tears in her eyes from the hot pain, but adrenaline had leaked over her, giving her momentary strength. She finally made it to the soldier, and pulled out one of his knifes. Slicing at her dress, she prayed her mother would never have to find out what had become of the clothing.


The fish wiggled at her feet, and more came closer. Without the fabric to hold her down, she only had the fish. She whimpered as her hands shook while she held the knife in both. She dropped the weapon, prying her hands over the fish and tried to release it from her foot. Her fingers fumbled over its mouth and she could feel it slowly opening.

 

[Killigrew]

Gawen


His body was shutting down. He could feel its demand, screaming at him to close his eyes, to let it come. It was worse than Gawen had ever known it to be, more commanding than he ever remembered it being, even as a child. His eyes were already closed, a numbness setting in all over, and he was suspended only by the elbows stuck into the wet sand of the beach.


At least death would be easy. It wouldn't be honorable, sure, but he had never dared dream his death would be. And he was so tired, an exhaustion bleeding out from his bones, dull aching over his whole body. It would be easier to sleep, now, and let the beasts tear his worthless body apart. There was heaven waiting, wasn't there? A new kind of life, one where he wouldn't be weak like this, where everything would be perfect. His eyes were closing, the light of the breezy sand bordered in darkness, the whistling wind in his ear thick with the calling of death.


But a scream like lightning broke through.


Emeline.


Her face flashed in his mind and he twitched. His broken form moved, as new will slowly surged in, flowing out from his care for her.


Gawen became aware of circles of pain, drawing him out from insensibility, breaking a groan past cracked lips.


"Ah... Hh... Ow!" He cried out indignantly as feeling returned to him. The little... the strange fish had their jaws clamped on his arms and legs, chomping down and sinking in deeper and deeper, the warmth of his blood flowing out over their jaw's yellowed spikes.


He twisted his head around, seeing more of the creatures crowding forward, a handful amount, and anticipating their goal, he marked their progression with his eyes, and the sight made his blood run cold.


She was half-submerged, red clouding out from her foot. The tint of metal was all around her, shining against them. The fin of one of these fish waggled at the surface of the water, its head occasionally rising up as Emeline wrestled with it, the struggle splashing red and white foam all around.


Gawen tried to force himself to his feet, stumbled, and fell, sliding deep across the grainy surface. The fish attached to his arms spread their cutting, slicing deeper and wider into the wound. Gawen cried out, the pain too much to keep within.


But its snout, half-buried in wetted earth, wiggled, struggling. Gawen gaped as it released him, and snatched back his wounded, bleeding, scrawny limb. The creature's rolling, desperate squirming was familiar to Gawen, and he squinted past the cloud in his mind to realize it. The beast couldn't breathe, and needed to.


The nostrils were at the very tip of their head, and Gawen sucked in a breath as he saw fortune smile upon him.


Shakily, he hurriedly gathered sand in one cupped hand and poured it onto the ones cutting into his calves, piling sand upon their eyes and nostrils, caking it into them until they, sneezing and garbling, unhinged their jaws and wagged their heads, falling over at the imbalance and struggling to get to their feet.


Gawen threw back his head, wild laughter escaping him at the sight. One of the creatures waddled towards him and he pushed it over with the weakest push, but it was more than enough. He sent it crashing back into the sand to wiggle desperately once more.


Bleeding and torn, Gawen turned back around, crawling towards Emeline to offer assistance, half-staggering, half-falling all the while.

 

[Auren]

Emeline


Finally pulling the fish from her foot, she threw it away from her. More of the fish were swimming towards her, and she screamed again as she backed away from them. Her hands fumbled through the sandy bottom of the sea as she searched for the dagger that she had dropped. She tried to stand up in the shallow water, only to groan in pain as the salt water poured into the bite on her foot. Seeing the fish bobble towards her, she started to limp towards the dry sand as much as she could. Blood trailed in the water behind her.


Her gaze turned toward Gawen as he toppled one of the creatures over, and it seemed to struggle to right itself again. She felt something brush her leg in her distraction and she yelled before slashing the knife at whatever it was. The dagger cut a fish that had unhinged its jaw to bite the tender flesh of her back leg. The fish floated atop the water, gentle waves pushing it around as it floundered to swim with its back fin gone. It also started to bleed into the water.


The fish that had neared Emeline immediately descended upon their friend, biting into him out of their hunger. Pushing away from them in their skirmish, Emeline hurriedly limped onto shore and towards Gawen. She barely heard Gawen laugh as she felt more tears form from the pain of her foot. She glanced back at the preoccupied fish, and dodged around the struggling, upside-down ones. Then she looked at her comrade.


“Gawen,” she gasped, seeing the bites on his arms and legs. He was staggering towards her, toppling over fish with a mere flick of his hand. Emeline heard something swish behind her and she turned to swat it away with her blade. She sliced its underbelly, and it rolled across the ground. Some of the nearing fish surrounded their wounded and dived in to rip it to shreds with their nasty, yellowed teeth. When more came near her, Emeline took a step back. Hot sand filled the bite on her foot and she cried out as she fell backwards, unable to stand much longer.


She held the dagger with both hands, pointing it towards any of the creatures that neared her, slicing at them and keeping them away from her bloody, sand-clotted foot.

 

[Killigrew]

Gawen


The fish were multiplying, falling out of the ocean, a squirming line of ferocious terror that followed the red trail streaming from Emeline’s wounded calf. Gawen made to move towards her, but neglected the recognition of the creatures below him, stumbling over their heads and narrowly tripping past their clapping mouths. He toppled over the ones he couldn’t avoid with a push of his foot, but he knew he couldn’t keep this pace up for long. His head was spinning, his vision going dark. Every blink and shake of his head nearly toppled him over, and it was only by knowing Emeline was there, needing him, that he forced himself to carry on.


His hands reached out towards her, the shivering silhouette in his vision, and a flash of bright silver slashed at his arms, the pain sharpening his vision.


Gawen shouted out, cradling the cut in his hand.


“Oh my! Gawen! I didn’t… I didn’t realize--” He heard Emeline gasp, but the cold sensation of his hand was scattering spots all over his vision and dulling his senses. He couldn’t hear the end of her words.


The bloodied boy staggered back, somehow more dazed by the pooling liquid from his hand than the bites from the fish, and his foot stomped down, a step behind, falling right into the awaiting mouth of an infernal fish. As its teeth closed around the heel of his battered boot, Gawen slumped over, hands dropping towards it, floundering to open its jaws and failing at every attempt.


“Ugh…” He felt the tears prick at his eyelids, blurring his already-failing vision. “Just go on without me…”


“What? What are you saying?” Her blade cut between his trembling fingers, drawing out a gargled squeal from the fish and releasing his heel. Gawen careened forward onto her, nearly collapsing against her, but catching himself at the last minute.


He stuttered an apology, head spinning, but the girl pulled him forward by the arm, practically dragging him further inland in spite her wounded gait, and his head whirled back around in time to see the snapping fish behind them turning upon each other, frenzied at the scent of blood. Emeline hauled him along until she’d reached the cliff edge, where she dropped her knife and slapped her hands against its slick surface. She started to slide her fingers at the cliff, like she was seeking some kind of foothold.


Gawen’s chest was heaving from the run, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse against the grainy ground. But Emeline next to him, her life so bright and so inspiring, demanded he resist. Drawing his wrist across his cheek, he wiped away the grains that stuck to his wet skin as his eyes followed the path behind them. Red intermittently smeared against the white sand, a curving path that lead right to them. He watched the far toothy fish start making their way towards them, and the dots connected blurrily in his mind. He dropped to his knees, and scraped his hands against the ground, covering their tracks with a blanket of beach.

 

[Auren]

Emeline and Gawen Collab posts


Emeline whimpered as the hot sands seared over her wound. She turned back towards the fish, and their progress toward them. The cliff side was too slick for her to climb. Looking at Gawen, she grabbed his forearm again and pulled him further back towards the cliff, away from the fish. Finding a rock, she started to throw them at the beasts. A few toppled over, and some dominoed with them. Without the blood of their brethren to distract them, they toddled around their companions. Behind them, the tide started to raise higher.


Glancing at Gawen, Emeline frowned. Blood still spilled out of his hand, but with the approaching horde, it wasn’t something she could allow herself to think about. She just refused to be eaten by a pack of fish. She kept throwing rocks at them, mostly only hitting them because they were grouped so close together. Fear thickened in her throat as a hopeless scream threatened to come out.


Then she noticed how the fish had to walk around the rocks she had thrown, unable to actually pick their feet up over them. With an idea, she started to pile rocks up in front of her and then boy, creating a barrier that connected from large sharp bolder to another, using her knife to slash at fish that got to close. The border seemed to work.


“Gawen,” she said as she leaned next to the boy, her hands shaking. She dropped her knife and glanced toward the fish. “What do we do? The cliff.. its slick and those fish won’t stop coming!” Her voice was rising toward hysteria.


Gawen saw the blade shine with a glint of sun before it crashed into the sand. He picked it up and pushed it back into her hands. “Hold on to that… and,” He sighed shakily.


“C’mon… help me.” Gawen crawled forward, and between heavy breaths and low, weak coughs, piled sand atop itself. “They’re following your blood, see? They only move..” He breathed, ragged. His arm stretched towards the wavering fish. “On the trail…” He coughed, body tremoring with the action, and while covering his mouth with one, his other hand streamed down another handful of sand. “They walk on the trail.”


The blood from the wounds on his hand smeared across the sand as he piled it up, red painting thick strokes across a pure white canvas. The water swelled across the shore. The sun was three quarters of the way across the sky, and their shadows had begun to stretch long. Gawen kept at it, and with Emeline’s help, the grainy earth piled high, and the beasts would then throw themselves against their wall, smashing their abnormally large heads against it. Gawen tensed at their impact every time.


Emeline held the sword in her hand, her fingers feeling numb around its hilt. She moved closer to where Gawen sat and started to cover the bloody sand, getting rid of it and whatever it was that lured the fish. She noticed how weak the boy had gotten, though she wasn’t sure what to do about it. When one of the fish annoyed her with its persistence against the wall, she reached around and sliced it with the knife. With the wall between her and the enemy, she was feeling braver.


While the fish pre-occupied themselves with the cut companion, she began to notice that Gawen’s wounds wouldn't stop bleeding. Her own foot bite had stopped a while ago, though it still ripped open afresh if she walked on it.


“You’re still bleeding?” she questioned looking pointedly at his hand. And he was coughing. Had he caught a cold? With the wall between them and fish holding up, she was finally able to notice the boy’s conditions.


Gawen’s head drooped, but as Emeline spoke, his eyelids fluttered, a forced consciousness allowing for a mumbling reply. “Mm.” His body didn’t move from its placement against the sand wall. “Jus.. Gonna slee..mmp.” His head fell limp, and his body shut down, teetering to the side and fwumping in impact against the sand.


Emeline felt the rush of air from the boy’s fall before seeing him hit the ground. She yelped in surprise and grabbed his arm. How could he pass out on her at a time like this? In that moment, their little barrier broke as water and fish flooded in.

 

[Killigrew]

The next moment in Gawen’s awareness was found in the sweet-smelling scent of nature, prodded by the chirping of birds in the nearby foliage. Life called him to awakeness, and pain. A groan slipped out parched lips. His hand created rivulets in the dirt as it slowly inched upward.


“Emeline….?” The words were garbled, as though thick cotton were between his ears. His tongue lapped at his mouth, but without saliva. The sensation was like a dry cloth against stone wall. “Emeline.” He said again, turning over. He forced them open past the dull light of night, trying to catch sight of any sign of the woman.


Emeline breathed heavily, catching her breath. She looked over at Gawen, her eyes narrowing at the boy. “I’m here, Gawen,” she mumbled, her voice very hoarse. Her gaze shifted to the cliff just a few feet away from them, and then to the bite marks on her leg. The blood had clotted into a dark crimson, almost black. She licked her lips, wincing at the salt and pain from the severe cracking.


“I’m thirsty,” she had to whisper. The stars and moon hung above them, and she shivered as she felt the chill of the night creep over her wet clothes. She looked down at her clothes and crossed her arms. Her clothes were ruined, she had painful bites all over her beautiful skin, and the man she was with was utterly useless. She shivered, letting her anger mask her pain.


She was alive. That was good--beyond good. Gawen fell back against the soft earth. His hand scraped across his face and came back covered in white dust--salt by the taste of it. He sighed as the pain set in. Spots and sores all over; some bites, some bruises, and one especially throbbed at his lower back. He winced, shifting his weight over.


"Emeline..." He said, rolling to one side and watching her. The girl was so covered in aches, in bruises. Gawen wanted to help, and concern overtook him, pulling him to his feet, which stumbled and gave way. His muscles in his legs all twitched and spasmed, complaining, hating moving in any capacity. The young noble grit his teeth, though, and used his arms to crawl over to her. Clamping cloth between teeth, he tore at his sleeve, and instead of breaking it, his teeth clamped loud and clapping as his hand whipped against a stone, drawing out a yell of pain.


He tried again, more fiercely, digging in with resolve to break it.


And after failing at it a few times, pathetically, he took off his jacket. "If you'll let me, I can tie this around your wounds. It should block some of the pain." Well, it hopefully would. Gawen wasn't sure if anything he'd read would work at this point.


He glanced out over the sea, hearing the waves wash against the shore and the muted clapping of the fish monsters below the cliff they now sat aloft.


"What happened?" He wondered aloud.


Emeline watched as the boy started to move toward her. She winced in pain as her foot throbbed and other parts of her started to ache from the new, shallow bites. When he called her name, she only gave him her gaze as any cue that she heard him. She didn't know how to help him, but she knew that men had tender egos. Even if they needed help, they would after grow sulky after a woman tried.


"I suppose," she said as she motioned towards her wounds, trying to keep the image of her family. She tried to hide her next wince. Women weren't supposed to show more than beauty and polite excellence. Wincing was not beautiful, no matter how granted. She might not have been with her family, but she sure as goodness wasn't going to leave her family's image just because she was in a little pain.


She reached out her hand so that Gawen could use it to bring himself up. "Have some dignity,"she said gently. She followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. "What happened was that the tide came in, and I had to drag you here," she said, pointing at the scrapes in the dirt from the cliff. The marks were staggered, as if there were frequent pauses. Next to the draws in the dirt was another scrape, as if someone had scooted along.


"The fish stayed with the water," she mumbled, her voice hoarse as she tried to gulp. Only air traveled down her dry throat.


His shaking legs were forced by will to hold him with Emeline's help. Gawen could not look the fool with her beside him, and so he grit and bore the pain -- a sharp demand that he'd never known before now.


"Incredible," He whispered, following her gestures to see the marks her capability had caused. He owed her his life, for the second time. "Thank you," He murmured. Gawen relunctantly pulled his hand from hers, and his arms spun in circles as he worked to balance himself steadily on his two stiff legs.


Then his stomach growled loud and rude.


He grit his teeth at the suddenness of it, hands folding neatly over the offending abdomen. He stole a quick glance at Emeline.


"Are you hungry?" He asked, coughing out the dryness, one not entirely caused by their circumstance, in his throat.


Emeline blushed, not sure if Gawen meant she was grand, or if he thought her a brute. She had dragged him, not easily though, to their current location. She nodded at his gratitude. She watched as Gawen settled himself on his own legs.


With the growl of his stomach, her eyes widened. The sound was strange, like a rumble she hadn't heard before. It wasn't long after his question before her own stomach purred to his. She put a hand over her abdomen, only to stare down at her underwear. She was in her bloomers and loose top. Her other hand went over her chest as she blushed from her indecency.


Of course her stomach would make embarrassing noises and she would be standing in front of a man of status and wealth. She kept herself from wincing again as the bites on her arms stretched with her movements, some of the scabs coming loose and leaking a drop or two of blood.


"I am quite starved," she said, swaying a little as she stood on one foot. "But there are no cooks and no servant to fetch food in this wretched place. How are we to eat?" Her voice would have risen if not for the dryness of her mouth. Instead her words faded in and out as she spoke. Some were a whisper and some were wheezes.


The questions she posed were a bit much for Gawen, who was still at the cusp of joy -- he was alive, and hungry. And he wasn't fainting. He could move every one of his limbs. It was cold, sure, but Gawen was used to that. There seemed to be a permanent chill always over his skin, no matter the cloth that clothed it.


"Maybe a cook washed ashore too?" He guessed. Gawen and Emeline couldn't be the only ones alive. "Or... otherwise..." He'd read some books. Gawen had an inkling. "We could search the trees for fruit, the bushes for berries..." Killing beasts was beyond even his thoughts -- no books he read detailed more than duelling practice, but he doubted that it took much more than it required in the killing of a human. One quick stab to the neck, a piercing of the heart, and the man was dead, and the blood never stopped. "For now, we might search and think." He held out his hand to her, as though in invitation for a dance, keeping his eyes politely averted from her attire.


Emeline started to huff, but she remembered who she was with. She held her breath for a moment as she calmed herself. When she breathed again, she shook her head. "The guards died, and they were supposed to be the best at this sort of thing. I highly doubt there is a cook alive,"she almost scoffed.


Her eyes glazed about the forest. "How will we know if something is safe to eat?"she asked, her voice squeaking at the end. She looked at his hand for a moment, her arms tightening over her disgraceful state. After a moment, she finally took his hand. It was cold within her own, and she looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. "Are you alright, Gawen?" she asked.


"Fine." He said quickly, gripping hers and setting off into the island to hug the coast in a long walk to find food, or a survivor fellow.

 

[Kaine]

Voices. Why did she hear voices that stood out so vibrantly against the static. Static? Why was there even that, and why did it rush in and out. No it wasn’t. It was leaves? Maybe water, it fwooshed in and out. With the fwooshing, her skin felt like it was on fire, something was beating down on her, but she was unable to move, and even with that searing pain like fire, that must of meant there was lava in her lungs. Even the lashes didn’t burn that bad. The lashes?


Her body thrust at the remembrance of the lashes. Her arms pushing her body up and her legs trying to push her away, but from what? She let out a sharp croak, but was quickly silenced by the water within her lungs. Her chest heaved and the sharp pain in her side was just like before when he had fractured 3 of her ribs.


Her body fell back into the sand as she tried to gasp for air, but her lungs only constricted, releasing more water into and out of her mouth. Both her eyes clasped shut tightly and her body instantly started to shake. Where was he? Why had the beating stopped? All she remembered was that he was profoundly drunk and before it all went black, he back handed her as hard as he could. As hard as she struggled to remember she just couldn’t. Tilting her head to the side she tried to open her eyes.


Her left side opened slowly, taking in the valiant rays of the sun, but the other felt like it didnt move, was it because of how she was sitting? or was it because of the sand? She couldn’t tell. Wait. Why was there sand? What exactly happened. Her chest convulsed again and she coughed hard, finally able to time in a huge breath of air. It was fresh, and extremely salty. Laying there, she just started to cry. For what reason, she knew not. It was just a flood of emotions all at once.


And her body? It felt broken. She had not been able to examine herself, but for anyone still alive, they might have first heard her sobs, but secondly and most assuredly, they would have noticed the lightly, but crimson saturated shirt upon her back. The lashes in her flesh bleeding enough, that while cleaned from the ocean, still weeped crimson into her shirt, even if only lightly. And the older blood had washed out, only tinting it pink.


The shirt, which was obviously a mans; Luciens, was mostly see through while it was wet and only wet down just past her thighs. Both the outside of her legs were seriously bruised, and there was more purple bruising closer to her intimates as well as up her arms and a minor cuts and abrasions all over her body with a larger gash on her forehead, which was filled with sand as her head rested on upon the beach.


She felt like she was ready to die. The tears continued to come and her cries, mild in tone as they also continued for no reason. She could not move. She didn’t want to move. This would be it, the last spot she ever sat, she knew she would die here. There was no understanding of the situation, or why she was in the sand, or being burned by the sun, but she knew, in her heart, that she would die here.

 

[Jays]

The water curled around his toes, cuddling his feet with its gentle flow, a cool and clear stream deep inside the wood. It had always been his favorite spot, hidden behind thick bushes and clusters of trees unless one knows the way in. Not that anyone with enough sense would venture into the heart of the Namean forest, where light was null and danger marked on every stone and bark, where sounds were void and the silence was oppressing. The thick canopy blocked out the sun, casting dark shadows that hid the deadliest of hunters that even the Valerian Legion dared not to disturb.


Deep inside that impenetrable realm, hidden away from most mortals' eyes was the most magnificent of sights. Through the poisonous thorn bushes and knitting trees, paradise resided. The giants of trees suddenly fell away, leaving a perfect circle of wonder. The sun casted away the shadows, cutting through the canopy, reflecting off the early drops of dew, flaring across the clearing the colors of the sky after a storm, illuminating every blades of grass in impossibly magnificent shades. Soft sheets of green blanketed the ground, gleaming in the multicolored air like the most precious of gems. Here and there, flowers grew among the grass, unnamed beauties glowing with unimaginable fineness. In the middle of it all flowed a small stream, its water so clear as to show each pebble and rock dotting the rather deep bottom. Slowly it flowed, against time, against the monstrosity that was the forest outside the haven.


But all of that paradise could not be compared to the joyful laughter ringing across the air, its innocent and musical melody paled even natures. It warmed his heart, kindled his soul, and nothing in the world could stop him from being infected with that very laugh. More than the heavenly voice was the girl sitting next to him. Her beauty brought the sight around him to shame. Her bottomless blue eyes seemed to suck him inside, making him lost himself in that depth over and over again, until he saw nothing else but that mesmerizing world of blue. Her delicate features took his breath away, her smile melted his heart, her voice stopped it cold. She brightened his world just by existing.


A giggle penetrated his dazed mind.


"Maximus, you're looking at me all weird again."


He painfully ripped his gaze from her and turned to look down at the stream, his face burning.


"No I'm not."


He was breaking every rule set by his father and his family by bringing her there. In fact, she wasn't even supposed to be led out of the Main House, much less inside the most dangerous forest of the North. But all of her reading had only made her crave adventures, and she had her ways of making him do what she wanted. Not that he would complain, getting to spend an entire day alone with her in his own little safe haven. He had a feeling she knew, but had never gotten enough nerve to ask.


Emily lay back down on the soft carpet of grass, sighing satisfyingly. Avoid looking at her, he asked weakly.


"Are you sure Claudine is not going to figure out you're gone? No, no, of course she would figure out. She knew everything. I should never have taken you from the House. It was expected of me to keep you away from trouble, not encouraging it. I should have known how much trouble I'd bring you. If I had thought of that I would never have..."


She put a finger on his lips, making him stopped so suddenly he bit his tongue.


"Relax. You worry too much, Maximus. That's one of the reasons I like you, but it gets quite irritating sometimes. If you have to worry, worry about yourself. I was the one bringing you trouble."


"But, Emily, I was the one who brought us here, which means I am..."


Not letting him finish, she suddenly shoved him hard, causing him to lose his balance and fell into the stream with a splash. Coming back up again flailing and spitting water, he glared up at her sitting on the edge. She only smiled back at him, her eyes twinkling with pleasure.


"That's what you get for disobeying Lord Nicodemus' daughter."


Without a word, he reached up and pulled her down with him. With a yelp, Emily splashed into the water next to him.


"Now that is what you get for pushing Lord Valerian's son into the water." He replied with no less playfulness in his voice.


She came up a few feet from him, floating, giving him a glare that matched his own. Then they looked back at themselves, two nobilities, soaking wet from head to toe in and looking nothing resembling noble, and they started to laugh. They laughed until tears came to their eyes, until the lungs fell short of air, until they had to stop to gasp for breath.


He looked up just as she did, and their eyes met. Only then did he realized how close they were to each other, only inches apart, floating in the clear water in the middle of the most beautiful place with the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life. He could feel her breath on his face, her eyes boring into his soul, and once again he was sucked into it. He lost himself in the sight of her, in the smell of her, in the feeling of their closeness. Their lips were nearly touching, hers slightly opened invitingly. He could only dreamt of kissing those lips, of the softness on his own. He swallowed nervously. He saw her leaning in ever so slightly.


Suddenly, she smiled and shoved him again, laughing playfully and dived down into the water. He just kept floating there, temporarily stunned, still lost in the moment. He shook his head, but still couldn't shake off the image in his mind, of her lips almost touching his, of a kiss that might have come.


When he snapped out of it, he frowned fiercely. The water was no longer transparent but brown red, like his father's cape. No, this was darker. The whole stream had turned into the color of blood. Confused, he brought one hand to his face. The liquid clung to his hand like resin, sticky and coating. A metallic smell filled his nose, making his stomach churn in disgust. His eyes suddenly widened. Emily. She was still under.


The sky started to pale and turned a sickly gray. Grass and flowers rot away at unimaginable speed, leaving a clearing bare and bloody. The forest around seemed to edge closer, its presence made the hair on the back of his head stood up. He tried to call out to her but no answer came. He tried to spot her but she was nowhere to be seen. The water now was a complete black, making it impossible to tell if she was under the raging water. His heart constricted in distress. What was happening? Why must he have her then lost her right afterward?


"Maximussssssssss."


He froze in place, a cold feeling swept through his spine, a hand clutched his heart and started to squeeze. It was her voice. It was her voice, yet it wasn't. The music was gone, the playfulness was gone. The kindness was gone. His name came as a hiss, cold and malevolent. Slowly, he turned around, not wanting to look but his foolish heart had to make sure.


She was there, floating upright, only her head above the surface. But it wasn't her. His heart stopped cold at the sight, a lump forced itself into his throat, stopping him from screaming. Her delicate features were twisted to nearly unrecognizable with hatred, her beautiful lips drawn back in a vicious snarl. But the worse was her eyes. Her eyes, once infinitely blue and captivating, was no more. Instead, a hungry and salvage red bored into him, surrounded by black. He couldn't think, couldn't move. The terror invaded his mind completely. "Emily..." he only managed a weak breath.


The snarl turned into a smile, one of dark intent and evil. Slowly, she moved forward, drawing closer to him. In a new wave of panic and self-preservation he was finally able to move. He too turned and tried to swim back to the bank, but the stream seemed to resist his effort, the water weakening his effort. All the while, she drew closer and closer. His strength waning and his mind blinded in horror, only desperation kept him moving.


A hand cold as death closed around his ankle, the touch chilled him to the bone. He tried to grab for a rock on the shore, but the rock crumbled to dust in his hands. He tried to hold on to the grass, but they too withered and were blown away. He clawed madly at the ground to no avail. The iron grip on his leg was not letting go, slowly but inexorably pulling him backward. With a final tug, the ground was ripped from his bloodied arms and he went under the blood stream.


--------------------------------------------------


Maximus clutched madly at the sand, pulling himself off the waves onto the shore. In a flash, everything from the previous night came back, the party, the shipwreck, the screams and desperations. With the terror still yet out of his mind, he collapsed onto the beach, unable to move any longer. His head pounded like a million war cries, his ears ringing as if a hundred bells had been rung all at once. His body ached every inch, his clothes torn and soaked. He had just escaped death, but he didn't much care.


The details of the dream was already fading, but enough remained for him to experience it all over again. How had his most precious memory turned into such abomination, a memory he couldn't fully recall except in twisted nightmarish version. He stared into the clear night sky, where countless stars blinking like a magnificent cape dotted with jewelry. At other time, he would have enjoyed the scene to no end, but right then he only saw terror. Maximus put an arm on his eyes, from which tears started to roll down his cheeks. He wept for his fate, and for a life he could never have.

 

[Killigrew]

((Bump. I shall make this into a Post here soon. Like today or tomorrow.))