Here I come.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Never Going Back
He knew.
After all this time, across thousands of miles -- he knew.
And he was coming for her.
Zorah felt as if she'd never sleep again. The assassin or kidnapper or whatever her loathsome spouse had hired could be anywhere, any time. And he would be just as ruthless as her husband.
It was difficult to speak or even think about him -- her husband. The memories had eventually faded and settled, stuffed deep in a dark cellar where she would never go. But now they were waking up.
She recalled the wedding ceremony -- a sordid affair. Her filmy dress's sleeves hid the manacles but no one could mistake the sound.
She had tried to escape the night before but was caught and thrown in a tiny, airless closet to await the wedding day. When threats of bodily harm did not dissuade her from running when the guards came to get her, her sister Celia's life was threatened, and she knew only too well how the groom delighted in carrying out his threats.
Now, Zorah put her hand over her heart, her fingers finding the branding scar her husband had made to claim her as his own, forever. She would always have that scar. Always be marked by his evil. Always know that he was out there, hunting her, wanting her.
She remembered the shining, black claws tracing her skin, stopping to pierce her so he could hear her gasp in pain. She never screamed, even when he began to do worse.
But there was one day he went too far.
The house staff discovered her unconscious and dragged her to the servant's quarters. One of them had a son (unknown to the Duke) and contacted him to take Zorah away.
Zorah awoke in a coffin.
Her muffled scream stopped the wagon and a voice from above calmed her.
"You're safe."
The coffin lid lifted and she saw the night sky in patches around the silhouette of her savior.
They had taken months to reach a safe haven, where the young man said goodbye and made his way back home. Zorah found work as a waitress and sometimes-artist. She bartered her way to Zarcharis and had been lucky enough to find work at the Segrac Cellar.
And now...this.
After all this time. He wanted her back again.
But instead of helpless despair, a tiny spark of rebellion lit in Zorah's chest, burning away the wretched memories, replacing them with a resolution. No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do...
...she was never going back.
After all this time, across thousands of miles -- he knew.
And he was coming for her.
Zorah felt as if she'd never sleep again. The assassin or kidnapper or whatever her loathsome spouse had hired could be anywhere, any time. And he would be just as ruthless as her husband.
It was difficult to speak or even think about him -- her husband. The memories had eventually faded and settled, stuffed deep in a dark cellar where she would never go. But now they were waking up.
She recalled the wedding ceremony -- a sordid affair. Her filmy dress's sleeves hid the manacles but no one could mistake the sound.
She had tried to escape the night before but was caught and thrown in a tiny, airless closet to await the wedding day. When threats of bodily harm did not dissuade her from running when the guards came to get her, her sister Celia's life was threatened, and she knew only too well how the groom delighted in carrying out his threats.
Now, Zorah put her hand over her heart, her fingers finding the branding scar her husband had made to claim her as his own, forever. She would always have that scar. Always be marked by his evil. Always know that he was out there, hunting her, wanting her.
She remembered the shining, black claws tracing her skin, stopping to pierce her so he could hear her gasp in pain. She never screamed, even when he began to do worse.
But there was one day he went too far.
The house staff discovered her unconscious and dragged her to the servant's quarters. One of them had a son (unknown to the Duke) and contacted him to take Zorah away.
Zorah awoke in a coffin.
Her muffled scream stopped the wagon and a voice from above calmed her.
"You're safe."
The coffin lid lifted and she saw the night sky in patches around the silhouette of her savior.
They had taken months to reach a safe haven, where the young man said goodbye and made his way back home. Zorah found work as a waitress and sometimes-artist. She bartered her way to Zarcharis and had been lucky enough to find work at the Segrac Cellar.
And now...this.
After all this time. He wanted her back again.
But instead of helpless despair, a tiny spark of rebellion lit in Zorah's chest, burning away the wretched memories, replacing them with a resolution. No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do...
...she was never going back.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Search for Answers
3 months in meditation. 3 months of searching, of prying, of seeking any glimmer of hope.
... Have I really found nothing?
The city is as bad as it has ever been. Its history has shown its decline, it spirals towards decay and fire. There is no hope for its return. The guilds will soon make their moves, each vying for the power, to fill the gaps left by those who stood for justice, for the right, for the ideal. The gaps beckon for authority, for those who seek to rule, who seek power, control....
...and there are too many who want to fill it...
Will the guilds fight for it... share it..... will there be a war in the streets, or a juggernaut of diabolic cooperation we will never be able to overcome...
....do they even want too..
The though shook him, an event the now Elan did not experience regularly. He had spent countless hours dedicated to searching out these individuals. He had held hopes that they would combine to be Zarcharis' reckoning.
...my faith in them wavers...
Hernando was a lost cause... he knew it would not be long now before he gave in to his selfishness...
The Hood... his decisions may have caused more harm than good, and his desire for the big picture seems lacking.
Zorah... he knew her past was dark and dangerous... but unfortunately... it had finally caught up with her... as it always does. He just needed to figure out why....
Evellyn... one of the few party members who he did trust, and pitied. Her eyes were awakened, but the truth is not kind. She is weathering it well... but for how long?
Kirsi... her moral center seemed to be rekindled. He could only hope she would be more proactive in her fight against this city's decay
Grim... his resolve is founded in the Queen, he could only hope that their plans continued to stay parallel.... but these voices... these temptations and now the vampires.. There is a dark force in this city, and it has set its sights on Death's very soul....
...we are outmatched... and we cannot hope to stand against these odds, these forces.... we stick our necks out to far in this city now, and if we are not ready, they will take our heads. We are unraveling at the seams....
...... how can we be ready?
The question plagued him, and so in his desperation he sought he decided if hope could not be found, it would have to be made. And so he made a plan... he chased an old legend and he enlisted his only friends to help him... failure at best meant a bitter struggle, at worst death or imprisonment.
But success... could mean everything
... Have I really found nothing?
The city is as bad as it has ever been. Its history has shown its decline, it spirals towards decay and fire. There is no hope for its return. The guilds will soon make their moves, each vying for the power, to fill the gaps left by those who stood for justice, for the right, for the ideal. The gaps beckon for authority, for those who seek to rule, who seek power, control....
...and there are too many who want to fill it...
Will the guilds fight for it... share it..... will there be a war in the streets, or a juggernaut of diabolic cooperation we will never be able to overcome...
....do they even want too..
The though shook him, an event the now Elan did not experience regularly. He had spent countless hours dedicated to searching out these individuals. He had held hopes that they would combine to be Zarcharis' reckoning.
...my faith in them wavers...
Hernando was a lost cause... he knew it would not be long now before he gave in to his selfishness...
The Hood... his decisions may have caused more harm than good, and his desire for the big picture seems lacking.
Zorah... he knew her past was dark and dangerous... but unfortunately... it had finally caught up with her... as it always does. He just needed to figure out why....
Evellyn... one of the few party members who he did trust, and pitied. Her eyes were awakened, but the truth is not kind. She is weathering it well... but for how long?
Kirsi... her moral center seemed to be rekindled. He could only hope she would be more proactive in her fight against this city's decay
Grim... his resolve is founded in the Queen, he could only hope that their plans continued to stay parallel.... but these voices... these temptations and now the vampires.. There is a dark force in this city, and it has set its sights on Death's very soul....
...we are outmatched... and we cannot hope to stand against these odds, these forces.... we stick our necks out to far in this city now, and if we are not ready, they will take our heads. We are unraveling at the seams....
...... how can we be ready?
The question plagued him, and so in his desperation he sought he decided if hope could not be found, it would have to be made. And so he made a plan... he chased an old legend and he enlisted his only friends to help him... failure at best meant a bitter struggle, at worst death or imprisonment.
But success... could mean everything
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Evelyn Godrick: Rave On
"Never give up
Never say die
Long surrender where the redtail dives..."
~Over the Rhine, Rave On
Everything Evelyn had in that apartment had been earned by the sweat of her brow. She had walked out of her parents house that day with the clothes on her back and her flute, the flute she had had since she was 5. Now it was in two pieces, in Danno's cloak. She smiled thinking that he probably had some plan to repair or replace it, which she thought was sweet. But it wouldn't be the same. Her clothes, her furniture, her gown from Danno, all destroyed. It hadn't been much, but it had been hers, and now it was all gone.
She rolled over in the cot and looked at Zorah, who was staring at the ceiling. Neither could sleep, but Evelyn thought it best to leave Zorah to her own thoughts; she wouldn't be able to say anything to comfort her anyway. They had both lost their families, but in completely different ways. She had walked away willingly; Zorah had to run for her freedom. Evelyn had meddlesome, control ng parents, but they hadn't forced her to marry a scoundrel to pay a debt.
Evelyn felt like such a child. What an idiot she had been. She had gotten lucky because she was talented and something about her spunk probably impressed Balthor when she marched in the Segrac that first day and demanded a singing job. She'd been unaware, protected by Balthor fatherly oversight, and foolishly thought she could take on anything.
She thought it had been bravery, but in reality she just didn't realize how much danger she was in just by living in this city.
She wanted to have power in actual fact, not blind luck and spunk. To whatever extent she could, she wanted psionic ability. To read minds, to protect her own mind, to track this city. To protect her friends. Because if she couldn't find justice for this hopeless city, she'd at least find it for them.
She also wanted information. There were too many secrets; secrets Danno kept, Ricin kept, Balthor kept, Kirsi kept, Silvus kept, Zorah kept. She hated not knowing things, particularly when information could be the difference between life and death in a place like Zarcharis.
She was going to become incredibly powerful.
And she was going to find out everything.
But first, she needed a new job, and a place to live.
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