Death of her{Open}

[Eimhir Bennet]

The sun was high in the air as Eimhir slowly made her way through the land of Bhaktawer. Her dirty and worn boots provided more discomfort than protection due to her swelling feet. The sensation was more than irritating to say the least. However, months of traveling had allowed Eimhir to suppress such irritations to the back of her mind. Although easily looked over, it still pricked away at the base of her skull with a merciless persistence. A frown started to tug at the corners of her lips as brown eyes flickered to the horizon. She had always assumed that ‘The hostile land’ was a title that this area worn because of the fierce nomads that occupy it. A chuckle almost slipped past an ironic smile as she recalled her ignorance. If anything, it’ll be the land that’ll finish her before the nomads can.

Why was it that she came out here again? Ah, yes, the nomads. She had heard whispers of their fighting skills while visiting a tavern at a small village. Naturally, her curiousity spiked when hearing about this but she did very little to pursue. After all, seeing how they were nomads, it would probably prove a pain to track them down. She’ll probably have better luck running into them by chance then actually putting in all her efforts into tracking. It wasn’t until a couple days ago that she had heard of the nomads again. Only, this time, the gossiping traveler allowed her to know where they resided: Bhaktawer.

The wind was starting to picking up, gathering the loose hair in her ponytail and playing with it as it pleased. A shiver traveled up from the base of her spine to her skull, making the warrior regret refusing to buy another coat of some sort. She had on a leather jacket that was held together by a couple of buttons. Underneath she wore her usual blouse and a colourful scarf flashed out from the neckline, seeing how it was tucked conveniently between her coat and blouse. She had on her thick stockings but they did little to deflect the wind that cut through her trousers like a knife through warm butter. Eimhir cursed underneath her breath. Being bundled up like such should be more than enough, but she could’ve sworn that it was getting colder by the minute.

Before Einhir could even blink, she found herself caught in the middle of a snow storm. Large gusts of wind surrounded the lass with sheets of snow. They made it impossible to her to see more than a couple of feet in front of her. With her sense of direction obliterated, Eimhir concluded that the best mode of action was to stay put. She’ll wait out the worst of the storm and then head back when it was safer to travel. The warrior prided herself for being prepared for many things, but a snow storm was not one of them. She slipped off the large traveling pack she carried on her back and let it hit the ground with a soft ‘thud’. Crouching down beside it, she used it as a temporary shield from the coldest of the winds. With head tucked in and arms wrapped around vulnerable ears, Eimhir then began to pray. She prayed that the bloody storm will be swift to end and she can continue on with all body parts attached.

Really, this quest of her will be the death of her.

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NOTES: Yeah...It's not the best opening post I've made -.-; | WORDS: 577 | TAGGED:None
LYRICS: NO FLOODS BY LADY GAGA | CREDITS: BOOGIE @ CAUTION 2.0

[( Velvet ) Annalie Xavier]

Annalie lived in a world infested with larger rodants. She had lived the past few months in various unsavoury pubs on her way to Dantalon to seek an audience with Tharm, the king of the thieves. While the coy smile of a barmaid may deceive one into believing that she’s honourable in the normal classes of scum, she may just be that girl who would not only take a man’s dignity but also his wallet. It’s advisable not to trust the passed out drunk either and certainly not to help him if living in a high priority on one’s list of enjoyable life pleasures. After all, a drunken man could take the slightest touch for the belief that he’s being robbed. The bartender, one may think, has more morals, but a pretty woman has to always keep her eyes open for a potential narcotic slipped into her drink. Of course, it’s advisable for honourable woman to stay out of this world all together. Thievery, gambling, drug dealing, and the great underbelly of the the unsavoury world lay exposed before all to see, however, it is far from vulnerable. If ones plays one’s cards right, one may yet manage to safely steal away from that place.

In this world, Annalie Xavier, daughter of a great knight and connection to the royal bloodline, became Velvet, seducer of men, and dark woman of the underworld. There was a great irony to it really. She had become everything her parents thought she was. A worthless being, carried on the back of wealthy society, contaminating its principles. She supposed that was the real irony. She still had more morals and integrity then her whole pedigree family. She sat at the edge of the bar, sipping a carefully doctored drink. While she knew the barman would not dare risk his life trying something funny, she still checked. One special liquid dripped into the golden liquid told her whether someone needed to be taught a lesson. A small sigh escaped her lips, which was lost in the throngs of drunken stupor. Getting quickly annoyed, she abruptly rose from her seat. Pulling on her travelling coat she pushed through the door and made her way to the stable she had put her horse in for the night. Cahlo, hearing her agitated footsteps, threw his head over the stable door and nickered for her.

“Hey boy,” she whispered, grabbing his black bridle and slipping the reins over his head. It took a little more coaxing to get him to accept the bit. Finally giving up, he allowed her to secure the straps. She wuickly put on his saddle, with much protest from him and she led him from the stables and lightly pulled herself onto his back and trotted out of the stable yard. His iron shoes clattered on the cobblestone, echoing in the empty streets. She made her way out the city at the dead of night. Warm lights flickered from taverns and houses, indicating the life residing inside. Joyous cries of alcohol traipsed after her as she pushed the stallion into a fast canter. Snorting, he leapt forward, charging toward the edge of the city. A dull thud touched her ears as his hooves slammed upon the soft dirt of the road leading to the wilderness.

Her journey was almost done. She watched the land pass into Bhaktawer. She knew she would have to pass through the treacherous land before she made her destination at Dantalon. There was no saying what the young thief would find in the underbelly of the world. As she made a steady pace through the land, she caught a glimpse of a figure on the horizon. She frowned. The wind began to pick up. Anna glanced nervously up to the sky. This land was far from forgiving from what she had heard. Cahlo had his ears firmly pinned against his head as a gust of wind flew into his face. With a challenging neigh, the stallion challenged the sky.
“Hush,” she whispered by her voice was carried off into the wasted landscape. At first, it was only a few snowflakes that descended from the sky but soon it was hundred, then thousands.

She quickly touched her heels to Cahlo’s sides and the mighty stallion sprung into a gallop as she tried to outrun the storm. However, no matter how swift he galloped, the storm quickly bore down on them and Anna was forced to dismount a few feet from a silhouette. She convinced her large horse to lie down (a useful trick for a thief) and looked disconcertedly toward the dark shape.
“Hello?” she called out, her voice just about swallowed by the roaring gale.

[Eimhir Bennet]

Mother Nature was a cruel woman. There were enough folktales and songs that provided proof of that. She would bless the land with days filled with her warmth and love, yet at a moment’s notice she can curse the land and absolutely destroy it. Yet, even with her unpredictable mood, Eimhir always fancied that the mother of the land always had reasoning for it. The poor lass, now victim to the harsh winds and dropping temperature, was starting to ponder on this poor theory. What had she done to be a target? True, she’s traveling the world in hopes to one day raise a society of skilled warriors- but it’s a bit too early to receive punishment, wasn’t it? Eimhir didn’t even know if her plan would succeed, never mind thrive. The lass’ mind whirled as she thought about her current situation. Maybe this was a sign? Maybe Mother Nature could see into what could happen and this society was closer than Eimhir could ever dream of.

If it was, it was bloody brutal sign at best.

Putting up with changes in temperature was never her forte. The lass would always either find the weather too hot, too cold, or too muggy. The tips of her fingers where dangerously white and Eimhir tired her best to return the feeling back into them. She tucked them underneath her arms, pressed her thighs against them, and tucked them underneath her shirt. Each new spot of heat only lasted a few seconds before she had to move her frozen fingers to a new location. The tips of her ears and nose stung with a mighty fury and ice was starting to form on her eyelashes.

Just when Eimhir was about to throw in the towel, I faint cry was able to fight to her ear. At first, she thought that she was now going delusional from being so cold, but as she peered over her bag she could make a blurry figure in the distance. The fighter frowned. She would’ve been quite content dying here in the storm, but now that there was another person who was stuck in the same situation was she, any thoughts of withering away were tossed to the wind. “I am here!” she yelled back, hoping her words would not be stolen by the fury of the weather.

With a bit of a struggle, Eimhir was able to swing her bag over her back and slowly make her way over to the mysterious figure. When she got closer, it was a surprise to her to find out that it was another woman-with a horse no less! And here she thought that she was the only female within miles of here that was stupid enough to ignore the local’s warnings. The warrior tried to offer a smile, but her shivering just made it look pitiful and pathetic. “You shouldn’t stay here, take your horse and go back!” she yelled, instantly going into ‘protective mother’ mode. If it was her life that was being gambled, then to hell with it…but there's now another person involved, so there's now no way Eimhir would just stand by idly.

A feeble glance was tossed over her shoulder towards the sky. Gray clouds still smothered the sky with greedy intention. Bastards.

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NOTES: | WORDS: 547 | TAGGED:Annalie
LYRICS: NO FLOODS BY LADY GAGA | CREDITS: BOOGIE @ CAUTION 2.0

[( Velvet ) Annalie Xavier]

Anna felt the icy world begin to envelope her sense. The other figure had remained silent after her first call. She frowned, hoping that her seeing another person was not just a mirage. She sighed, and her breath formed a cloud of steam in front of her. She crinkled her eyes as she tried to stare into the storm. Quickly giving up, the young thief wondered about ways to make it through the storm, toward her destination rather than away from it.

However, a faint cry of life brought the girl back to her senses. There was a person out there, too stuck in the unforgiving storm. She quickly turned her gaze back to where she had seen the figure. True to her imagination, the dark spot stood up, swinging something over its back and began its walk through the storm to where Cahlo and the young thief was. The horse had its ears pinned to its head, angry at where they had landed up.
"Don't worry, boy," she crooned, attempting to calm the angry stallion and herself. "We'll find a safe place."

Anna looked up as another female made her way into view. Immediately, she wondered whether the girl was from the nomadic tribes of warriors that wandered the land. They were known for being cold and ruthless, and Anna felt a rush of fear run through her. The locals had warned her about the nomadic tribes, which they viewed to be worse than the terrible ruthlessness of the weather. She frowned slightly, but she quickly wiped it off her face. The poor girl looked worse off than she did.

She laughed at the girl's words. Her motherly attitude seemed to be misplaced with the hardened rouge.
"Going back won't help," she called back to the girl. "The storm is going that way. Our best bet is to go against the storm."
She managed to convince Cahlo to stand up. The great horse grudgingly got to his feet. Their best bet was to ride through the storm.

She climbed on and offered her hand down to the girl.
"Get on!" she called out, hoping that the frozen looking girl would get up behind her. Her hard eyes searched the other woman's. Hopefully she would not be stupid enough to stay behind. Anna refused to have her death of her hands. The weather showed no sigh of letting up, and Anna began to worry about their lives. Of course, she should have taken the long way around instead of cutting across Bhaktawer. She sighed to herself, her frozen body adding to her irritation.

Sorry it's short. I'm on my lappy on holiday.