|
|
Post by The Jenn on Jul 30, 2008 13:47:12 GMT -5
((This is a backdated thread, before Harold and Felaria died.))
Felaria felt on fire with the energy of an enthusiastic fifteen year old girl, almost hopping across the stable patches of the Golfam swamp and scurrying up into a few trees when the only safe way across was to climb and jump. Luckily, the trees grew close enough and dense enough that she could manage. She knew the way - it was marked, if you knew where to look for it, and where some bastard had removed the marking she could make a fair guess by looking at the lay of the land.
Today she was finally leaving home to seek her fame and fortune in the Court of Hearts. That Jack rank she'd earned wouldn't be there long if she had anything to say about it. No, she'd get her King's rank and keep on working up, showing those stuck-up outside folk that she was twice the rat any of them could ever be. All she needed was the chance, and she'd make it and take it or die trying. Her granddaddy had given her his blessing and told her that he was proud of her - the first time she'd ever heard the words from the fat Golfam rat's muzzle. It gave her the last little bit of push she needed to strike out on her own and make her way in the Courts.
She was nearly to the border of the swamp, the trees growing thinner and the land slightly more predictable, when a flash of bright color caught her eye. She froze and crouched, wondering if it was some sort of trick or trap. Lavender did not belong in Golfam, whatever it was. When nothing happened for a minute, she slowly stood to a crouch and crept over, staying low to the ground just in case. She finally got close enough to see what it was... and her jaw nearly dropped.
It was a human, though she couldn't tell the gender right away. Once she took a few steps closer, though, she thought she saw a masculine edge to the soft, unconscious features. And that hair... so long. It was half-covered in mud and slime, but the color was unbelievable. Another step and she could see a dark 'J' on his chest, but the Suit was obscured.
Well now. What in hell had she just stumbled across?
|
|
|
|
Post by Kari Muffin on Jul 30, 2008 14:01:46 GMT -5
All he really wanted was to get away. Harold had no intention of going back to the Courts. Of course, his so called friend had thought other wise despite his protest. Friend... how could have called that man a friend after he left him here to die? Why had he ever agreed to go anywhere with him? Harold had no idea how long he had been tied to a tree like this. Barely on the edge of consciousness he opened his eyes when he heard something. Maybe some animal was finally going to put him out of his misery? He'd rather not starve to death out here. When his eyes slid open the first thing he saw was a familiar coloration that reminded him of the kind bastard who had left him to die. Of course when his eyes came into focus and his mind started to put the pieces together, he realized this certainly wasn't the man who had left him to die. It was... a girl? "Who...?" was all he could manage before he fell into a coughing fit. Now he knew how a Torquehelm felt. |
|
|
|
Post by The Jenn on Jul 30, 2008 14:12:03 GMT -5
Oh-ho, and the pretty thing was still alive and aware enough to speak! Well, sort of. It sounded more like a croak than a word, but Felaria understood what he said, or thought she did. He didn't look in the best of shape, and the way he was propped up against that tree didn't seem natural at all. His clothes and hair bunched funny, almost as if he was being held there by something. When he coughed, it was only more evident by the way that his body shook and rippled without moving properly.
Damn was he ever pretty. She couldn't tell if she liked the thought of him tied up to a tree all gorgeous and half-conscious more than she liked the thought of what he might looked like cleaned up. "Your saving grace, apparently," she drawled in response to his inquiry. Something in the back of her mind still warned her that it might be a trick, but her hormones and her curiosity told that voice to hush as she moved closer. One green paw reached out to brush over his chest, feeling some sort of invisible bond there. As she'd thought. A poke at the stuff and it felt like rope, but the good stuff. It was obviously some sort of magic.
Maybe she should get her granddaddy to help out here. "Gimme just a bit, hon, an' I'll go figure out a way to free your scrawny ass. Then maybe I'll give you my name."
She knew she'd have to hurry. If anybody else found him there, he'd be either dead or captive - and not her captive. The term was relative, of course. Hell, she'd be happy enough to have him sitting in the same room so she could just look at him. With an anxious curl to her tail, she figured it would take her an hour to get back home and an hour to return with help. Not too long... she hoped.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kari Muffin on Jul 30, 2008 21:16:18 GMT -5
What? Harold would have voiced his confusion if he could have managed. He wasn't sure if he should have been hopeful or worried for his "scrawny ass." The Esterberry watched as the the girl receded back into the marsh. What little hope he had seemed to dwindle down to nothing.
What exactly was that girl planning to do? Where had she gone? Who was she? So many questions and all Harold could do was sit their in his miserable half coherent state. He could try to nod off, but what if someone else came? Or what if something tired to eat him? Was that girl going to come back... it sounded like she would. If only he had caught more than a glimpse of her.
It would be a long wait ahead of him. And all he could do was miserably reflect on all the "what ifs" and "what coulds."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Jenn on Jul 30, 2008 21:41:03 GMT -5
The girl made her way back home just as quickly as she'd left and her granddaddy was none too pleased to see her back. He thought she'd gotten cold feet until she hissed in frustration to cut off his bellowing and explained the situation with animated gestures of her arms. There was a human Jack of Clubs in the forest from some region with a lot of purple and he was tied to a tree by invisible rope, still alive and barely conscious. It had looked like he took a nasty blow to the head or something of the sort.
Still grumbling under his breath but now interested in the situation, the fat rat followed his granddaughter back to the spot where she'd found him. Face Cards in the area interested him, especially human ones. For all that he could stand to lose about half of his body weight, he could still climb up the trees and take advantage of the arborial routes, though with a great deal more huffing and cursing. He was getting too old for this nonsense.
When they finally arrived at his tree, it was approaching noon and she was absolutely delighted to find him still there. "Heya, boyo! Told you I'd be back." She grinned, sharp teeth only faintly yellowed, and pointed at his torso for the other rat's benefit. "I felt at whatever's holding 'im an' it seems like rope to me, but I didn't wanna fiddle with it in case there's somethin' wrong. D'you think you can get at it, granddaddy?"
Staring at the human for a moment, he slowly waddled over and inspected the situation while his granddaughter waited impatiently in the background. He plucked at one of the invisible bonds, then grunted. "Hold still, boy, ya hear?" With that, he leaned in and started to gnaw at one of the ropes next to Harold. It was strong, but thanks to an ability his teeth were stronger.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kari Muffin on Jul 30, 2008 22:10:36 GMT -5
He didn't expect her to come back, and was happy to see her, no matter how fuzzy his eyesight was. The Jack was surprised to see that she had company, and that they looked a little similar. They were related then?
Of course, nothing really prepared the Esterberry for what happened next. He watched as the chubby male reached forward and plucked at his invisible bindings. He knew that his "friend" had tied him up with his Jack ability, magic rope... or something like that, but he didn't think that someone could get it off that easily.
Chewing it certainly wasn't what he expected at all. He made a rather distressed noise before falling silent completely. If this man could chew through rope what else could he chew through?
And.... what were they going to do with him after he was free? Then again, it wasn't as if Harold could fight back. He was week, had been smacked around by someone already, and was obviously in no condition to even protest someone biting away the rope.
Was this... really happening?
|
|
|
|
Post by The Jenn on Jul 30, 2008 23:12:02 GMT -5
He really looked out of it, with his head sort of lolling around when he looked at them and his eyes out of focus. The noise he made when her granddaddy started working at his bindings was absolutely precious and made her doubly sure that she wanted to take him back with them and see what she could do about fixing him up. Her entrance into Court life could wait another month or two without causing her any great distress, and maybe he knew enough to give her some information about the outside politics. They really didn't have much news of it in the Golfam backwater.
When the bindings eventually gave way and the weak human slumped forward limply, the fat rat grabbed him and grunted, pulling away the rope. "Barely any meat on this one, and a nasty bloody spot on his head. Someone ganked him good. Whachu planning on doin' with him, girl? He's your find."
Felaria stepped closer and got another good look at his handsome face, the purple eyes unfocused, delicate colors and features unlike any she'd ever seen before. Added to that, they were human features. So exotic! "Let's take him back an' see if we can't clean him up. Maybe git 'im talkin'. See if he knows anythin' useful before I head out." Plus it would give her a chance to 'doctor' him for at least a few days and touch that silky hair. Her paws practically twitched in anticipation.
Her granddaddy grunted again, this time in agreement. "Sounds like a sound plan. Alright, let's git 'im back, then."
|
|
|
|
Post by Kari Muffin on Jul 30, 2008 23:26:23 GMT -5
Harold fell forward to his great surprise. He had no idea what the pair of them were saying. He had never quite heard an accent like that before and was thoroughly lost. He did catch pieces of it here and there. "He's your find." managed to make it through the haze. He wasn't some sort of object... but apparently he was in their eyes? Or was that just how people talked around here.
The man couldn't support himself in any fashion. And he could feel his head pounding. He never really remembered being hit, but then again he didn't remember being tied to a tree by his loving and caring court pal.
Harold had reached the point that he had dealt with enough. He gave up trying to coherently piece together things and passed out. He had dealt with entirely too much stress for one day.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Jenn on Jul 30, 2008 23:38:01 GMT -5
Carrying someone through the swamp was tricky business. The spongy ground that held the weight of one person sometimes had a problem with two and she had to hop-skip quick before it could suck her feet too deep. Getting him across the tree-areas was a real bitch and once they actually had to fling him, her on the tossing end of one branch and her granddaddy on the receiving end of another. It was great living in one of the more inaccessible areas of the marsh, but she'd never had to worry about carrying an unconscious body back with her. The two of them took turns carrying him and she got in a few curious pets of his human skin along the way, when she could get away without being seen. It was ridiculously smooth beneath per paws.
They were both sore from hauling his dead weight and relatively cranky by the time they got back. She carried him into the house, a large affair for the area. It had a kitchen common area and four bedrooms, one of which was her granddaddy's private room with a few books and two of which were their bedrooms. The last had used to belong to her parents, or so her granddaddy told her, and was reserved for when they had company. That was the room she hauled him into and she put him on the lumpy matress before giving herself a good stretch.
The old rat followed her in, groaning as he swung his arms around. "Guess you'd better tend to the dead weight's head lump," he said sourly, mood foul after their labored trek back home. For all that the man was built like a stick, it was still a lot to carry over long distances with lots of terrain obstacles. "Don't want 'im slippin' away on us after all that." Still grumbling, he left the room to go and get something to eat.
As soon as she heard him clanging around the kitchen, Felaria reached forward and stroked the lavender hair. The clean parts felt like silk in her paws, the one time she'd actually touched the fabric in her life, and her tail curled happily. Just looking at him, she knew it was worth bringing him back here. Hot damn...
Momentarily satisfied, she left the room to go and boil some water so she could tend to his wound.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kari Muffin on Jul 30, 2008 23:58:47 GMT -5
Harold groaned when he regained consciousness a little while after Felaria exited the room. He struggled to sit up, but somehow managed to prop himself up on his elbows. His head was still pounding. Damn Sigurd really had hit him hard, that bastard. If he wanted a place in the courts so badly he should have listened for once in his life.
The Esterberry blinked away some of the blurriness and fiddled in his vest pocket for a moment. After some more fumbling he managed to get his monocle out. Now he could actually focus on the full image of wherever he was.
It wasn't what he expected. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed and a small table next to it. The room looked.... wet but he figured that was because of the unbearable humidity that clung to everything. Even the wallpaper looked soggy.
At least he wasn't dead.... yet. This place didn't look very safe.
|
|
