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#Post#: 366346--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Anneliese Date: July 15, 2014, 10:36 am
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The ice cold woman followed obediently behind White Fox, eyes
unseeing and glazed over as if she were in a trance. Despite
appearing as though she wasn’t listening, Chiara’s mind hung on
every crescendo and decrescendo of Rujin’s voice; it fluttered
through her ears like a song, assertive and masculine,
reassuring and comforting, yet at the same time detached and
cold as if he didn’t mean what he said. Her deathly pale pink
lips curved up into an emotionless smile. “I’m curious, Rujin.
What is your definition of perfect? I mean, if neither you nor I
are considered perfect, I’m afraid I don’t know what perfect
could possibly be.” Her head tilted to the side in
mock-curiosity, eyes narrowing just slightly as she awaited his
answer. It was clearly evident that her words were jest, but
there was something in her tone, unnoticeable to untrained ears,
that conveyed the seriousness with which she asked her question.
Thin legs carried her into the doorway of the room, however her
front remained facing him. “I think you misunderstand. I’m not
disgusted with myself because of what I did; I’m disgusted with
myself because of how much I liked it. It’s very much like a
drug. You pick it up the first few times just to try it,
believing that you’ll only do it those few times and put it back
down before it sucks you in like a black hole; but it surprises
you. It makes you feel so good, and once you come down from the
high you realize what a huge mistake you’ve made but you still
look forward to feeling that good again, so you do it a few more
times. Before you know it, you’re addicted.” Chiara looked down
at her hands. Despite not being able to see them very well in
the poor lighting, she knew they were twitching with desire. Her
head snapped up, pale eyes straining to see the outlines of his
angular face. “It happened to me. That first time I woke up just
in time to ride the last wave before I came down from it. That
little taste was enough to make me curious. The experiments
began then, but I did it solely out of curiosity. I figured that
if I called it an experiment, I would feel less guilty about
doing it. I purged all at once, but I eventually came to my
senses. It was wrong, I shouldn’t be doing that, so I stopped.
Or at least I thought I did…” The icy voice trailed off; despite
the tremendous amount of weight her words carried, her tone
somehow managed to remain light and airy as if she were
reminiscing about fond memories.
“That was how people started to notice me. The rational part of
me wanted to blend in and live unnoticed amongst the people; but
there’s another side of me, the one that killed. I’d show up to
a new place in a rational frame of mind, but a few weeks later
people would come up missing. Bodies would be found and all
clues pointed to the one with hands stained red.” Chiara
hesitantly took the clothes from his hands with a detached
smile, almost as if she were afraid her hands would stain the
fabric with the color of her sins, and took a step into the room
he proffered to her.
“I’m not telling you this to spite you—this isn’t some twisted
game that I play. I’m just warning you out of respect. With
withdrawal comes the most persuasive desire imaginable. I don’t
want to and I know I shouldn't do it, but that other side still
yearns for it.” With that she turned her back to him and moved
deeper into the room. Capable hands slackened their grip on the
towel and it dropped to the floor in an awkward ‘swish’. “If I
need anything I’ll go to you, though I’ll try not to be a
nuisance.” Chiara put her worn clothes in one of the corners of
the room and slipped on the clean clothing the fox had given
her. Despite having picked the smaller pieces to wear, the
clothing still swallowed her petite being whole; the shirt
itself reached down to her knees and the pants were too large to
even stay on her narrow hips. She didn’t even bother putting the
pants on before she crawled down onto the sleeping mat. Sleep
would never come, she knew that much, but her body felt
extremely fatigued. The rest she would gain from relaxing would
replenish enough energy.
#Post#: 366354--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: July 16, 2014, 2:35 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The question surprised him, which was merely conveyed by a small
raising of an eyebrow. What was perfection? He offered a small
smile, "Who am I to speak of perfection? When all things are
flawed? To be perfect is to be without flaws, yes? There is
nothing perfect in this world, or the next, I imagine." He
sighed softly. "But the definition of perfect... To have
perfection... Physical or otherwise...
"It would be like a cloud, I imagine. Formless, small, or large;
sometimes light and fluffy, other times dark and cruel. Unable
to be held by human hands. To be able to just drift slowly,
easily, with the wind. To be able to be feared and loved,
sometimes at once and other times separately. To come and go as
you please, perhaps. It'd probably take different shapes as
well. And, like a cloud, unattainable.
"Or perhaps the moment when you wake up and are still trying to
remember who and what you are; or the moment when you are
drifting off, the mind and soul at peace with each other.
Although, perhaps one could even say perfect is the way the
hunter feels before it pounces, that moment of clarity, of
understanding and no longer feeling indecisive about what to do
but kill. To live in that moment of clarity, to be able to
understand what you are here for and why... That's perfection, I
believe. Though I have envied clouds for the longest time, to
come and go as they please; to not worry about anything; to be
able to drift freely and then just... disappear. I would like
that."
He shook his head and watched her as she spoke at length,
correcting his minor error of misunderstanding. He bowed his
head in acquiesce, "I apologize, Chiara, for not understanding
but you have enlightened me. A feeling I know all to well." When
he looked up at her again, his face was neutral, as usual,
though there was something slightly off about the expression;
almost as if chaos was threatening to break through the
carefully placed mask of neutrality that gave nothing away, but
the smile was the only crack. "Well, we shall see in a few weeks
then, yes?"
Leaving the question in the air, he spoke as he slid the door
closed, "Do not think of yourself as such. It is my pleasure to
help. Have a good night." As the door clicked shut, he strode
back to the main room, where it had a comfortable warmth to it
and slid open the door of his own room, leaving it open slightly
as he strode in.
He lowered himself onto the mat, laying on his back as he stared
up at the ceiling, letting his mind wander in hopes of catching
a few hours.
#Post#: 366363--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Anneliese Date: July 16, 2014, 8:29 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
With a distracted mind, time passed rather quickly. Hours
floated by like the clouds Rujin described; lazily, coming and
going as it chose, and completely unattainable. The time that
passed could never be taken back, and, like the clouds, it
disappeared after awhile, forgotten. Chiara spent the night
thinking about the clouds, the hunters, the clarity, the
confusion; perfection.
With a tired sigh the woman drew herself up to her feet. Snap.
Crackle. Pop. (Rice Crispies!) Sometime during the night she
felt the ice settle in. Her body grew colder after that, more
stiff and awkward, and she knew that the effects of Rujin’s mist
had finally worn off. She wished that he would use it on her
again, but she also feared the addiction of feeling the way he
made her feel. She had felt so real, alive, like she could start
all over again, make better choices, and be a better person—be
one step closer to the perfection Rujin had described.
Chiara’s movements were slow at first; like a baby deer, clumsy
and awkward until it got the hang of it. Once she reached that
stage she began to move with a pointless determination, leaving
her room with the look of having somewhere to be when she really
didn’t. She walked slowly through his dojo, keeping her eyes
trained on the floor to prevent herself from getting curious and
wanting to snoop around. Her legs carried her to the main room,
but she didn’t look around and see if he was there, instead she
made her way outdoors, feeling a subtle warmth wash over her
from the morning sun.
Once she was outside she knew exactly where she wanted to go.
The woman’s pale eyes locked on the willow tree, and her face
took on a look of detached blankness, as if she were in a
trance, while her legs thoughtlessly carried her closer and
closer to her destination. Chiara ducked beneath the low hanging
leaves, brushing them aside gently with a hand. In the midst of
that motion her hand turned and grasped a single leaf; nimble
fingers ran over the smooth texture of the leaf and traced the
veins that ran through it. Chiara didn’t notice the twitch of
her lips—the beginning of a smile.
After an unknown amount of time, Chiara let go of the leaf and
moved quickly to the trunk. Her hand immediately shot out to
feel the rough texture while the other rose to touch the soft
skin of her cheek. Both were extremely different in comparison.
While her cheek was soft and smooth, the trunk was rough and
bumpy. It reminded her of scars, and soon she imagined that the
tree was covered in scars. Both hands then rose to run over the
rough bark, tracing the grooves slowly as if she were trying to
memorize them. Another long while passed before she removed her
hands from the bark , and Chiara unconsciously rubbed her arm.
The feeling of bumps and grooves surprised her; she felt like
the tree—felt like she had scars—but when she looked down at her
arm it was as smooth and soft as before.
Chiara moved to the lowest branch and began to pull herself up.
She climbed up close to the top, where she found a decent sized
branch to sit on. With her back against the thick trunk,
Chiara’s legs stretched out before her, crossing at the ankles
and resting near the end of the branch. From her spot she got a
nice view of the sky, and she quickly found herself watching the
clouds float by.
#Post#: 367733--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: September 17, 2014, 3:08 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
White Fox generally didn't sleep all that heavy, given his life
experiences, and so found himself staring at the ceiling as
Chiara walked out; the red hues blank as his thoughts turned
inward, pondering if he should follow, to entertain his guest
anymore than he already had. Perhaps she had left because of his
lack of manners.
Not that he had many visitors from outside the village... Most
were already used to his rather strange ways of communicating
and mannerisms.
He allowed himself a small smile, though it was faint; just a
faint twitch of his lips as he got up, pulling on some grey
pants; leaving the rest of him naked. No point in being entirely
inappropriate.
The Shadow-Marked warrior made his way outside, his eyes finding
the petite woman quickly as he brought his gift to awakening,
letting his presence wash over the courtyard as to not alarm her
overly much.
"Do not be alarmed, please. I wish to show you something."
The man knelt by a few bushes, fingers flowing through the
blades of grass as red mist emitted from his body, though it
seemed to twist around Chiara as the mist pervaded the
courtyard. Soon, little lights could be seen from within the
faint mist; a soft, barely audible sound much like crickets
could be heard.
"I have been here a long time and -from extensive exposure- the
insects here have become mutated, if you will. Something I have
created, I suppose."
Soon moth's and butterflies fluttered along, some landing on the
two beings. "They themselves emit this mist as well, though to a
much lesser degree than what I can. The species of bird that
frequents this little place have yet to adapt, though they have
started to show signs of immunity." He shrugged. "Some of the
animals in the trees that surround us have also become mutated.
While I try to not wake up these creatures, as they are so very
rare and fragile, they do come out once every so often to breed,
and tonight is one of those nights; the mist helps make them
visible. The village will be celebrating this special event
tonight, as you'll soon hear. They enjoy these nights, as it's
one of the few nights they get to celebrate something like
history, like tradition. Not much happens in these parts, as you
will find out, but we tend to keep track of the things that do."
#Post#: 367799--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Anneliese Date: September 28, 2014, 7:28 pm
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Her senses had dulled: eyesight, hearing, smelling, tasting,
feeling. Reaction time slowed with the deterioration of her
senses. Her mind was able to think of solutions, to acknowledge
the problem and hypothesize any necessary changes that needed to
be done, but the connection of her brain to her limbs was
impaired - or maybe it was the ice that seemed to form between
her bones every time she remained unmoving for periods of time.
Either way, Chiara didn’t hear Rujin’s footsteps, couldn’t sense
the subtle change in atmosphere as he neared her. Instead his
presence was announced when he spoke, giving her a slight
startle in the form of a slight jerk of her chest and tensing of
her body.
From her spot in the tree she was forced to look down at him,
and with a squint of her eyes she was able to detect a slight
reddening of the air; like a cloud that enveloped the whole
courtyard. Breath caught in her throat, though that was the only
sign of her mounting excitement, hoping he would be using his
gift on her again.
With half of her attention on him and the other on the lights
and soft chirping, Chiara let Rujin speak, undisturbed. Had she
been truly interested with his little tidbit of information, she
would’ve found it more fascinating - as fascinating as it
rightfully was. Instead his voice passed through one ear and out
the other; the only thing her mind took note of were the sounds.
The beautiful tones that trickled freely from his lips, accented
by the soft chirping. It was quite comforting to her ears - what
little of it she caught. His words did, however, catch her
attention at the mention of a special celebration, the corners
of her lips raising in a faint smirk, pales eyes openly running
over the expanse of revealed skin before reaching his eyes. “If
I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re trying to seduce
me.” Once more her eyes lingered on his chest, catching the
slight silvery tint of the scars on his already pale skin.
Exquisite. He was truly a work of art; beautiful and deadly all
at the same time.
It took quite some effort, but Chiara finally managed to plant
her feet back on the ground, cotton clad legs bringing her
closer to the beast of a man. She told herself it was so she
could admire what he did, but deep down she knew it was because
she was hoping she could feel something like she had the past
night.
“If this is your way of asking me to accompany you to the
celebration, I accept.” Another smirk, another tease. Pale eyes
fell on him once more, though this time they strayed no lower
than his eyes, catching them with an amused twinkle. “But if you
try anything, my sweet, I will not hesitate to eat you.” Her
eyes dashed away, the amusement twinkling even brighter and she
found herself letting out a soft hum of glee. Despite how dour
and glum she became after divulging her little tale to him, she
seemed to have gotten over it quickly, bringing the darkest
details of her past up to the surface without so much as batting
an eye. Besides, she decided that if she was going to die one
day, what better way to go than by the hand of some
dysfunctional yet devilishly handsome man with daddy issues and
a split personality? “I bet you’ll taste as delicious as you
look.” She purred, tongue running over her bottom lip as if she
were looking forward to the prospect of cleaning her teeth with
his bones. Testing the limits she was, unafraid if he were to
get mad and unleash his ability on her. To be ended by this man
would be a gift in and of itself.
#Post#: 368097--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: October 25, 2014, 5:40 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
He felt the change in her as she stared at him in silence, as
she spoke, though he was taken aback at her accusation of
seduction; his brows furrowed, his mouth opening to defend
himself and his honor, but the lower clicked shut as he realized
she had been jerking his chain. "It's not that you aren't
beautiful, Chiara. My life is boring and I just as, so I would
not want to strap you down. You have a long way to go before you
find your place.
"But I am trying to ask you, yes. It is not often I am allowed
to join with another, or even go."
Having noted the way her body seemed to reach for the mist that
surrounded them, he offered her his arm; the naked flesh
offering no resistance to his ability, like cloth would.
[center]---------------------------------------------------[/cen
ter]
The village, unlike during the daytime, was something to behold
this night. A faint fog hung over Harniraia, the torches and
streetlamps flickering with life as people passed by; as
children ran by, faces painted, clad in costumes of various
animals and people that held major influence in this village. A
common theme of the face paint on the children, and on some
mothers, were black in twisting and swirling patterns that
almost resembled his own.
Grown men, some huge with muscle and height; others lean and
skinny wore loose fitting clothing much like the clothes Rujin
kept at the dojo; some even carried wooden swords of various
styles: katana's, swordswords, daggers, knives, etc. There were
a few staves here and there. On their feet, they wore nothing;
though a pair of shoes hung around their necks with metal toes
and heels.
Huge, elaborate stages had been erected with dancers and singers
and musicians adorning them; fire-eaters and magicians littered
the crowd, some of those stages or in the streets. But all wore
masks or had their faces painted, obscuring any real defining
features.
Food carts were posted at every block, and even shops had taken
residence along the buildings that were otherwise closed.
Rujin and Chiara would quickly become apart of the hub-bub of
the celebration, a small smile found its place on the face of
the otherwise neutral expression of White Fox.
The night was rather cool, the moon half-full as it stared upon
the party-goers.
#Post#: 368534--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Anneliese Date: November 16, 2014, 12:04 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]Chiara listened to him with a slight quirk of her lips.
Amusement shone clear in her eyes though she said not a word. At
the offer of his arm hers easily slipped through his; ice cold
flesh pressing against the warm, soft flesh of his. As he led
her back to the dojo her thoughts lingered on just that; warmth.
Chi trusted him enough to slide her eyes shut, allowing him to
lead her blindly to the building with her lungs taking the
deepest of breaths.
-----
The fog put a damper on the night, only intensifying the fog in
her natural eyesight as she followed close behind the towering
man. People passed by, faces obscured by masks or facepaint. In
Chiara’s eyes they were a blur of color; monsters on either side
of her, which made her body move even closer to Rujin’s in
search of firm guidance. The irony of the situation proved to be
quite dramatic; the only real monster in the area was her. There
wasn’t a way Rujin could be a monster, especially in her eyes.
Perhaps her eyesight was truly failing her.
His movement were quick. The slight turn of his lips were
indistinguishable to Chiara, but his eagerness was clear in the
pace at which he cut through the crowd. After a while of
following she had to reach out, hand clasping his forearm in a
tight, almost desperate hold. “You need to slow down..” Her
breath wasn’t labored and her muscles weren’t fatigued, but she
was having trouble keeping up with him; the ice forming in her
bones slowing her down significantly in the cool night. However
it didn’t stop her eyes from gaining a dull glow of excitement.
Curious the woman was about the festivities, even more curious
as to what he would do. Would he enjoy one of the street side
performances? Or take to one of the many games set up alongside
the street?
“What should we do?”
[/center]
#Post#: 371160--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: December 1, 2014, 11:39 am
---------------------------------------------------------
He laughed at her question, a full-throated, merry laugh at
that. "What should we do? Why! What can't we do?! The night is
ours, or yours more specifically, my beautiful creature. I have
other engagements, though you are more than welcome to watch."
Heeding her earlier comment about his needing to slow down, he
hefted her up and switched her to his back as he set off again
through the crowd, not allowing her to protest the movement.
"In truth, this is one of the few nights out of the year that I
can... unmask myself. Everyone looks the same, more or less.
They don't notice my face nor do they realize who I am. I am a
ghost to them, on any other day, but today..." He breathed in
and let it out slowly, as if content. "But today, I am the
storm. I can be me. I do not have to hide. I shall show you what
I mean.
"For months, all leading up to this night, most men and women
train -some kids as well. I train these people in this... dance,
though that is wrong, but you will understand why I call it that
once we start. There are only four of us, however, which isn't a
bad thing. It is a long process. You shall see."
After a few seconds went by, he spoke again, "Let me know if you
are hungry or thirsty or something."
In relative silence he walked, packing the cold woman around as
if she was a small child; it was rather soothing to feel the
coldness of her own body spread over his. Perhaps he had been a
bit too bold in picking her up... He felt his face flush as he
thought about it but didn't dare put her down.
Your grave, lie in it...
As they neared a rather large stage, it was surrounded by
people; which was saying something given the small stature of
the village. "This is it."
He nodded over to the stage, where another man, a woman, and a
boy were standing. The man was large in build, rough around the
edges with a seemingly permanent scowl, though a small smile was
fixed upon his face; bald and bare-chested. The woman, while
pretty, had a homely feel to her though she was lithe; long
brown hair hung over her shoulders, and when she smiled, there
was a few teeth missing. The boy was small, as was expected,
though tall for his age; limbs too long for his frame, a few
teeth missing as well and one was loose, as was evident by his
constant poking it with his tongue.
"They are waiting for me, so I must put you down. If you must
watch, then stand here, but you do not have to."
As he set her down, carefully and rather prudishly, he pushed
through the crowd to stand upon the stage with the rest of the
contestants. He grinned at Chiara before his usual neutral
expression took hold; the others took a step to the side almost
subconsciously.
While he stood almost a head taller than the large man, the
woman almost matched him for height; the kid barely reaching
their waists.
A fat, balding man dressed in extravagant clothing walked upon
the stage and addressed the crowd, "Tonight we will be having
our annual Dance of Blades, a tradition set down by our
ancestors who learned this from The White Fox. To this day, we
pass this dance on to our younger generations; we hold these
competitions, not just for fun; not for honor or glory, nor for
the women, or men. No, this is a tradition that has seen us
through tough times and harder times. Through the darkness when
no light was to be had, we made that light. When The White Fox
built this village, he gave us this; and though he never asked
for worship or for us to call him our master and god, we have.
In this Dance, we open our souls to him so that when he chooses
to call upon us once again, we will be ready; our best and
strongest will be there. But let not these Dancer's be the only
ones to open their souls, but may we each open ours as well. Let
us join together in this Dance, though not as Dancer's as these
four, but as brothers and sisters.
"Now! Let our Dancer's take up their shoes and may The White Fox
judge you worthy."
In this Dance, the Dancer's take up metal-shod shoes and perform
the Dance of Blades. This Dance was created by White Fox himself
to quickly and effectively take down his targets, or large
groups of enemies. The Dancer's must recreate this Dance to the
best of their skill without faltering or missing a step. There
is no end to the Dance, as such, but a series of movements that
blend in together to make a pattern of death. The ending is when
the opponent dies.
"First, we will let the boy compete and then the woman. The two
men will face off against each other. There are medics, but do
try to keep the damage to a minimum." With that, the portly man
exited the stage as did the three adults, leaving the kid to his
own.
[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center]
At first, there was a subtle hit of a drum; steadily picking up
tempo. While most couldn't hear the first hit, the child was
trained to do so, as was most others, and immediately the boy
went into the motions of the Dance, shoes slowly, but steadily
picking up pace with the drum, tapping loudly against the wooden
stage as he Danced.
The kid twisted and turned, jumping to criss-cross his shoes
together, creating a shower of sparks that lent a few
appreciative noises from the crowd. Within thirty minutes, steam
was rolling of the kid as his body heated up, colliding with the
coolness of the air.
An hour into it, he started to breath heavy, and his steps were
slightly off pace with the drum.
Not too much longer than that, the kid missed a step, tripped
over his own feet and fell onto the stage with a dull thud. The
crowd clapped and cheered, offering praise. He was quickly
rushed off the stage to present the woman.
[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center]
While the kid's movements were good, the woman made his seem
slow as she Danced, sending showers of sparks and echoing her
shoes off the wood; you could almost see the people she was
Dancing against, each drop of a foot, each clasp of shoes,
brought a small grunt from her lips, though subdued as to not
distract the crowd. However, she only lasted thirty minutes
before collapsing from exhaustion, face and body covered in
sweat; hair matted to her face and her clothes clung to her
body.
[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center]
With the two men, their shoes were different; blades had been
attached to the ends of them and there were no drums. They bowed
to each other and began.
At first, they were slow; as if feeling each other. While it
seemed they were an even match, Rujin started to move faster;
though the bigger man caught up after taking a couple of slashes
on his legs and arms. While the cold, calculated look was
plastered on his face, Rujin was grinning; a small sheen of
sweat covered the larger man.
Soon enough, both men were covered with small red lines that
oozed blood, Rujin seeming the worst of the two.
As they tattooed out their Dance against each other, the two men
started to differ in techniques. Or, the difference was starting
to finally show.
The Dance of Blades isn't a set technique. It's any number of
limb combinations that can be used the most effectively against
your opponent; but, in Harniraia, the people had made a Dance
that was more for beginners, as warm up exercises for the young
and old; something easy to grasp. But for the more advanced,
such as Rujin and the large man and the woman, they could add
their own combinations in there. For Rujin, he taught the
traditional style of Dance that the village had set; though he
did offer other lessons to further the Dance. The large man had
mastered the more common Dance and set to making it his own
after a couple of years of doing these competitions.
While said competitions usually only had one set style, it
wasn't uncommon for the Dancer's to change it up a bit; or fall
into the habit of making new combo's to take down their
opponent, such as what Rujin and the man were doing. And that's
also a reason why these Dance's go unjudged.
So, while it seemed they were matching each other movements at
first, they quickly began to tear down each other's defenses;
slowly, steadily. Blood covered the stage, as well as some of
the villagers standing a bit too close.
It was beautiful to watch the two men go at it; both fluid and
quick. Not a wasted movement or moment. Their legs quickly
becoming twisted blurs of action as they fought to end the bout.
Clothing became torn, flesh eaten alive by the razor sharp
blades.
After two hours, they came apart; both bloody and sweaty, the
breathing of both men slightly labored.
Rujin sighed contently, catching his breath and launched himself
at the large man; sending a flurry of kicks that scored deep
cuts along his ribs and stomach, before jumping up and away,
though twisting his body into a deadly spin that scissored the
two blades that the large man barely avoided with his own flurry
of kicks that managed to bite into Rujin.
Once his feet touched the ground once more, White Fox launched
himself into the Dance again; letting his body and legs move
faster and faster, letting go of thought and reaching into a
place deep in his mind that allowed nothing but total focus; no
energy wasted as he brought the large man down.
Said large man was able to keep the worst of it at bay and aimed
a careful kick the back of Rujin's thigh, cutting up the muscle
as the large man just ducked beneath a kick.
Rujin carefully landed on his feet as to not fall over from the
wound, and bowed his head in defeat. The bald man accepted with
a nod of his own and they both limped off stage, the
Shadow-Marked assassin holding a hand up to let Chiara know to
stay, allowing the medics to look at them. As he limped away
from the medics after they sewed his leg up, he walked over
towards Chiara and gave her a small smile.
"What'd you think?"
#Post#: 380178--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Anneliese Date: December 22, 2014, 1:39 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]He was dynamic; constantly evolving into something
greater. Just when she thought she understood him he did
something completely out of character.
His laugh was like broken glass. It didn’t sound right coming
from the emotionless man - but from the look of things he didn’t
seem all that emotionless and detached. His eyes were no longer
empty, rather they were glittering with a childish glee Chiara
both loathed and adored. And that laugh. While it didn’t sound
right it was utterly beautiful and had her swooning.
The night was hers, or that was what he told her. She was given
the option to do whatever she pleased yet he proceeded to scoop
her up onto his back and carry her to his destination - not
hers. Chiara made no protest other than a smile that didn’t
reach her eyes.
His words were lies. Thy angered Chiara though she made no
attempt to rebuke his claims, not wanting to break that
disgustingly beautiful and warm mask he now cloaked himself
with. It was so innocent and sincere. Why did he shut himself
off. There was nothing special about this night other than the
festival going on, though she could only assume it meant far
more to him than it did to her - another thing that made her
want to tear out her eyes so she couldn’t look at him. Good
thing it was dark and she was having difficulty seeing anyways.
The stage was small, the village was small, but Rujin was large
- their passion was large. It penetrated the ice cold shell of
the woman that rest against the warm man’s back. They were no
longer the same. Rujin was complete now; he was warm inside and
out if only for the night. But Chiara was still cold and slowly
dying on the inside. Jealousy was a bitch. She felt left behind,
abandoned, and those feelings only intensified when he dropped
her down unceremoniously and sliced his way through the crowd up
to the stage. Alone was what she always felt and it’s what she
will always feel. What made her think Rujin could change that?
She didn’t need romantic intimacy; hot hands running over her
cold skin, making her feel alive in more ways than one. No. She
just needed the comradeship - the feeling that she wasn’t alone
in her endless fight to seek her destiny, or at least that
someone understood and had an idea of what she was possibly
going through.
White Fox was gone and Rujin finally made his appearance.
-----
Chiara found herself coming out of her thoughts just as Rujin
was stepping on stage with the other man. He as large compared
to the foxish man Chi came to know, but even with the twinkle in
his eyes and his signature neutral expression Rujin still looked
deadly.
In no time their tempo succeeded that of the woman’s before.
Their movements were a blur to Chiara but that didn’t take away
from the beauty of their lethal actions. They were moving so
fast she couldn’t pinpoint the blows that made the others bleed,
she only knew they were injured from the blood that splattered
those in the front of the crowd.
It drew her in.
The dance was all but forgotten. Slim legs carried the petite
woman through the crowd and towards the blood; its delectable
color a deadly siren. The song would be Chiara’s undoing had she
not caught herself. Realization struck her when blood splattered
across her forehead. Just from the smell alone she could tell it
wasn’t Rujin’s, though she retreated anyways, making her way
back to the exact spot he left her.
Ruby red blood remained on her forehead through the rest of the
match. Once more Chiara succumbed to the relentless chatter in
her head, standing stiff as a board, unmoving, and utterly empty
as the fight went on. If it wasn’t for the loud cheer that
erupted from the crowd she wouldn’t have known it even ended.
Her pale eyes immediately sought her guide out, finding him with
medics who took pride in dressing his wounds. A few minutes
later he was back at her side, limping all the way. Chiara
turned to him. She expected his question but didn’t know how to
answer it. Did he want the truth? Or the real truth?
The truth? “It was beautiful.”
The real truth? She hated it.
Round eyes looked up to him. A sheen of sweat still covered his
body and she greedily drunk in the image without any hesitation.
Even after the medics patched up the larger of the wounds, the
small ones were still oozing that beautiful crimson liquid. A
certain knick on his jaw caught her attention, a bead of red
threatening to trickle down his neck. A pale finger ran over the
skin, scooping up the blood before it could make an even bigger
mess - or was the mess already made? She waited for his eyes to
turn somewhere else before dragging her finger on her tongue.
His blood wasn’t as sweet and delectable as she was expecting.
It crush all fantasies she conjured up in her head.
It was bitter, cold, utterly disgusting. And she wanted more.
[/center]
#Post#: 380344--------------------------------------------------
Re: Village of Harniraia: Home of White Fox
By: Demonreach Date: December 23, 2014, 5:24 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
He frowned ever so slightly as she answered his question. White
Fox sighed, feeling the slightest bit ashamed. "I do apologize.
I know it's not something one would usually find enjoyable..."
He allowed the quiet to reign as he watched her from his
peripherals, the frown deepening upon his face as he felt her
finger upon his flesh, fighting instincts to brush her away;
almost scared that he would startle her. He watched as she took
the blood into her mouth, watched her face as she tasted it,
savored it. Even though her touch was something of lust, he
enjoyed it; that brief moment of contact. Just as he had enjoyed
having her upon his arm, as he carried her through the crowd.
White Fox held little doubt before that the woman was serious
about her... condition, but within this moment, everything
solidified.
Offering a faint smile, he spoke, "Is that why you disliked the
performance? I had not meant to disrupt your peace, however
fragile it had been. Please, forgive my offense." He bowed his
head in apology. "I shall take you back if that is what you
wish, but the night is yours now; any fear you may have for the
night put aside."
Something inside of him twinged, a sort of want that he had all
but forgotten. He felt himself growing distant again, mentally
at least, though allowed whatever contact their bodies made to
be lest he put her off.
He offered his arm to Chiara, "Shall we, mo fuar áilleacht?
Wherever your feet will take you, I shall follow."
*****************************************************
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