Plucked and Pilfered Petals

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Phaesporia
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Jan 26, 2017 12:19 am
Location: Trudging Through the Abyss

Plucked and Pilfered Petals

Post by Phaesporia » Tue Aug 21, 2018 2:05 pm

“Wait for the summer solstice.”

That was the answer she gave every time I told her how much it hurts. Every time I asked her for something to make the pain go away. To be rid of my memories of him. He doesn’t deserve it, but I cannot take it anymore. It’s been half a year and I still see the blood on my clothes. I still hear him taking his last breath as he tells me he loves me.

Watching the murderer hang did nothing to heal my wound or even close it. How can—

“We’re almost there.”

Her words snap me out of my daze. Though soft, they were quite loud against the near silence of the forest. How strange it is, even at this time of night. I cannot hear the flapping of wings or even crickets. Its as if everything is hiding in fear. Perhaps from us…

“Be careful with your dress, Rose. Don’t let it get caught on anything.”

My dress. The one she told me to wear. It would be beautiful if it were not inside out. Though she is my cherished friend, I’ve always thought her strange. The dress is by far the strangest request. He never liked her… The only thing we disagreed on. My heart feels—

“Watch your head.”

She’s holding a branch up for me. I can’t help the smile. Though small, it’s the first one I’ve had since the incident. This is why I never cared about the rumors. Even if she is a witch, I don’t care. She’s my friend. We’ve been together since we were born. Something he understood, despite his hesitance to let me visit her.

Perhaps he was right about some things… He’d throw a fit if he knew I was out here on the summer solstice, during the witching hour. It doesn’t matter. He’s not here anymore. I suppose that’s why I am.

I look to her. She never hesitates as she leads me through the woods with only a small, magical orb of light brightening up our path. He never liked magic either. But he liked me.

“Wipe your tears. It’ll only make things worse if they see.”

I wipe them as quickly as I can. I know why I’m here. I know the risks. I take them willingly if only to stop it. She never once looked back at me. She knows me too well for that. He knew—

“We’re here.”

Words I was beginning to fear I would never hear. How long have we been out here? Hiking? I grew up in and near these woods. They were my playground yet I cannot remember this meadow. It’s quite beautiful. Moonlight bathes it as if it were day. Strange that the fireflies are absent tonight. Even they’re scared—

“Hello, Gancanagh.”

Those are the only words I hear before I see him. The most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Long dark hair brushes his shoulders in waves, curling around his cheeks. The moonlight must be playing tricks on my eyes, for his keep changing color.

I can’t even hear the words Siobhan is saying. I can’t hear anything beyond the sound of his voice and his every breath. He looks disgusted as he glances over my attire. What have I done to bring revulsion to such a magnificent creature? I start to take the dress off but she stops me.

“Don’t. It will protect you. And whatever you do, don’t touch him.”

How cruel she is, my supposed friend. Truly, the worst kind. Betrayer of trust and all things love! Oh, Sune, you are the only one I can count on. To have given me such a gift! How I wish I could weep with joy were I not frozen in awe. Petrified in the light of his aura.

They’re both looking at me. I can tell, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. I blink and ask what they said.

“I was brought here for a deal, instead of making you my meal. I need you to be willing, or it will be me She is killing.”

He finally smiled. How silky and deep his voice is. I feel as if my heart is about to burst with love and joy. I could die right now the happiest woman in Faerun. He could kill me himself and I would love how close that would bring him to me. I answer this angel of beauty, the words almost foreign and breathless to my ears.

“Anything…”

I try to take a step forward, to reach out and touch him. It pains me when he moves away, still glancing at my dress. I never should have let her talk me into wearing it. Curse her!

“Your heart’s fire for what you desire.”

‘Oh, how you already have it,’ I wanted to scream! I took a step forward to embrace him, only to be stopped by her again. If I didn’t love looking at him so much, memorizing his features, I would send the foulest glare her way.

“Rose…”

I can just barely hear the warning tone in her words as she called my name. I ignore her. She is no friend of mine, hiding this mortal treasure from me. The words quickly spill from my lips. I was bewitched by him, but I meant every word. Down to my bones.

“Take it. It is yours.”

I heard Siobhan softly sob next to me as she holds me. Why would she cry? Isn’t that what she told me not to do? She’s just jealous. He never looked at her. Just me… He’s walking towards us now with a hand outstretched. My dream is coming true. I can’t hear what he’s saying anymore. All I can think about is how soft his lips appear…
+1
Aodh Lazuli wrote:
Sun Feb 24, 2019 11:58 am
This is absolutely astonishing, in that my personal suggestion would be the total removal of the mechanical slavery system.

Phaesporia
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Jan 26, 2017 12:19 am
Location: Trudging Through the Abyss

Re: Plucked and Pilfered Petals

Post by Phaesporia » Wed Aug 29, 2018 11:17 pm

My entire body was on fire. Not literally, of course, but it may as well have been. How ironic it is for drowning to feel this way. It won’t be long before the fresh water rushes through to my lungs.

The hand holding me by my scalp is torn from my hair, taking a few strands with it. The pain doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as my lungs. I don’t even fix my hair as I push myself away from the barrel, gasping for air. I can still hear them fighting. It seems the mutiny isn’t over yet.

A crossbow goes off… Of course he’d spare me the bolt. That would be too quick. The thud of the man who saved me hitting the ground is the last thing I hear before my face was shoved back down into the barrel. To think he’d waste precious water this way. I never should have chosen pirates as a means of transportation.

I can’t help but to think of how this started as I try to fight it. He’s stronger than I thought he’d be. I just wanted a night with him. The idea of a Dread Pirate Captain was just too tempting to resist. I’m paying for it now. If I had known his First Mate would get so jealous… No, I wouldn’t have cared. I would have helped make this mutiny happen instead of having it sprung on me. It seems they caught us both by surprise.

He locked us in the kitchen. The poor cook… For a captive of pirates, he made the best food I’ve ever eaten. I will miss it dearly. Soon it will be my body lying next to his. My body fights the inevitable more than my mind does.

The others must have broken the door down. His hand is ripped out of my hair again. Much more of this and I’ll have a bald spot, Sharess forbid. This time, I’m knocked over with the barrel. I shouldn’t have tried to breathe. The water rushing through my nose and mouth feel much worse than when I was simply holding my breath.

The water isn’t as refreshing as last I drank it. I may as well be throwing up wet sand, hacking and spewing to expel it from my body violently. There’s little time to waste.

I try to look up to see where they are, my vision blocked by my wet, sanguine locks. At least it was freshwater and not salt water, that would have damaged the beautiful color. Still coughing, my hand wipes the hair covering my eyes.

They have the captain on his knees. A waterfall of blood pours from his chest down to the planks beneath him. First Mate Waller looks like a man possessed by a jealous rage. I lost count of how many times he stabbed the dead captain before he was pulled away by his yelling crew. They’re shouting and pointing at me now.

I will mourn Lorcan the Saltcrowned, if only briefly. He was an interesting man. It truly is a shame that things turned out the way they did. Waller doesn’t seem to notice my glare, if the love in his eyes says anything when he looks over to me.

The coughing never ends. Is that why there’s concern in his gaze? Foolish man. I never wanted him. How soft he is. How easy to manipulate.

“Rose…I did it, me siren. We can be togetha’ now.”

He’s either insane or too foolish to see what consequences his actions will bring. The men rallied against the old captain for him, but for how long? My gold was good enough for Lorcan. It would not be good enough this time.

“No! No! Don’ touch ‘er!”

They grab him first before me, to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. I can’t put up a fight in this state anyhow. His screams grow louder as they drag me through the kitchen before throwing me in the supply room with my familiar. The sound of the lock clicking seals my fate, imprisoned in this makeshift brig.

I can hear them discussing my fate just beyond the door, but my attention is mostly on the large panther lying in the middle of the floor. The sticky, wet puddle my hands have landed in must be his blood. A loyal familiar, if nothing else. The dark room may have prevented me from laying eyes on him, however I could still hear him breathe. A good sign.

Magic swirls around him as he disappears. Penumbra will be safe now while he recovers, far away from these idiotic men. They ruined everything. I almost had the captain within my grasp, only to have his second in command try to kill him. How quickly things escalate.

“She be a witch! She ‘as t’ be! Ye seen First Mate Waller! Poor lad’s bewitched or sometin’.”

“Don’ worry, Remi. We’ll fix ‘im up. Just need t’ drop ‘er off on some island quick as we can t’ free the lad.”

“Ain’t that cursed place Arelith ‘alf a day away?”
+1
Aodh Lazuli wrote:
Sun Feb 24, 2019 11:58 am
This is absolutely astonishing, in that my personal suggestion would be the total removal of the mechanical slavery system.

Phaesporia
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Jan 26, 2017 12:19 am
Location: Trudging Through the Abyss

Re: Plucked and Pilfered Petals

Post by Phaesporia » Thu Sep 13, 2018 4:30 pm

Flowers, he called them… Those are not flowers.

Unholy magic was used to create these. Normally, I would not have minded, but they were made to appear as a rose. My namesake. The ‘roses’ themselves look like clotted blood coagulated to form each petal. It may have been a trick of the light, but the stems were made from bone with tiny claws poking out to form the thorns. This should not exist. Looking at it felt wrong, even with my dive into controversial magic.

The strangest thing was how they moved. I never felt a breeze, given we were in a place of nightmares, hidden below the earth, yet they swayed gently in their pot as if too fragile to withstand even the lightest breeze. It was almost hypnotic. Or, it would be were I not horrified at their appearance. The necromantic plant disturbed me on a psychological level and I couldn’t help but draw parallels. He did this on purpose and I hate him for it.

“Nothing to say about them. I put so much work into them.”

He sounds angry, I think. Either way, his words make me flinch. I never should have followed him down here. His whole being screams bloody, pained death. It would be ridiculous were I looking through another’s perspective. Unfortunately, I wasn’t and it is only he and I in this room.

He’s waiting for a response. Has it been too long? I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the potted plant of terror. Perhaps if I act nonchalant, he won’t notice. Surely he’s looking at his ‘roses’ and not me.

“They’re certainly unique.”

The words had barely fled my lips before I saw his steel gauntlet reaching for them, caressing them. The gentle gesture of affection was ruined near instantly. Gods, how they moved. It wasn’t my imagination earlier, with the swaying flowers. They’re actually moving, reaching for his plated hand with gnawing hunger. Their claws made the second most awful sound I’ve ever heard as they scratched across the surface. The only thing worse was the pained and sorrowful moaning the flowers themselves made.

“You have not even come close enough to take them in fully.”

His words sounded dead, emotionless, but I recoiled nonetheless. He enjoys my mental torment and I can’t help but give that sadist satisfaction from my discomfort.

“I-I am fine, but the offer is appreciated. I can see them from here perfectly. They look lovely…”

I don’t know what was weaker, the lie, or my voice. Curse this man…No. Curse this monster. Curse him for catching me off guard like this and a curse upon my self for allowing my curiosity to once again get the better of me.

“I had not caught your name in our previous meetings.”

It would seem I am not the only one failing at a simple lie this day. He’s heard my name several times. I know he has, otherwise he would not be showing me his monstrous roses. He truly is doing this on purpose, though I know not to what end. Is this a foreshadowing of my fate? Has he decided to give me a glimpse into my future, molded by his hands?

I was truly petrified. Every breath was hard to make. I was no longer scared he was going to kill me. Now I was scared of fates worse than death. I know how he creates his undead. How he talks about murder in general as if it were his playground. Death is a mercy when dealing with this creature of untold horror.

“It’s Rose.”

I watch helplessly as his hand reaches into the pot, towards the base of the rose bush. Grabbing one of the stems, only a single rose growing from it, he snaps it in one motion and pulls it from the rest of the plant. They screamed when he took their comrade from them, though the flower in his hand itself was lifeless now. The pot must be what animates them.

Blood seeps from the wound of the rose in his hand, trickling across the ground. My eyes follow it briefly, only to glance back up and find he is offering it to me. The romantic gesture leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I once saw it as a thing of beauty and love. Now all I can feel is the petrification of my own terror as well as dread filling every fiber of my being.

It’s difficult to make my body stop shaking, or at least to the point he won’t notice. The fur-lined cloak I always wear helps. His step towards me forces me to take one back to keep distance between us, his hand still holding the rose with persistence. I fear he’ll force me to take his token of twisted affection.

“Victrus Drach. Deathspeaker of Bhaal.”
+1
Aodh Lazuli wrote:
Sun Feb 24, 2019 11:58 am
This is absolutely astonishing, in that my personal suggestion would be the total removal of the mechanical slavery system.

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