[Se] Released
She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. The sensation was oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. It muffled the sounds of the outside world, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heart and the steady rush of blood through her veins. She was thirsty--her mouth felt dry, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been here. She found, though, that she did not mind. It was safe here. She didn't want to leave.
Strands of colored lights creaked and hummed in the breeze from the sea, casting odd and angular shadows over the orcs, trolls, and tauren gathered around tables in the courtyard. Se'ala, seated out of the way in one of the corners, sipped some sweet, tangy drink from a carved-fruit bowl as she watched the others. There was definitely alcohol in it, but she enjoyed the flavor. She would simply have to be careful not to drink too much. The orcs at the next table over were clearly not so cautious; drinks and outrageous descriptions of their women 'back home' flowed freely, and there had been several scuffles throughout the evening as drunken ramblings were mistaken for personal insults. Now, as the night stretched on, they grew bolder, calling out comments and crude invitations to the few women scattered throughout the outdoor bar. Se kept her eyes on her drink, ignoring them. With luck, they would be on a different ship.
There was a rattle of mail armor in front of her, and she looked up to see an orc with a torn ear and a smug, confident smirk plop down in the chair across from her and lean back, eyeing her up and down. His gaze lingered on her chest, his smirk widening. Past experience suggested that he wasn't admiring the Horde emblem stitched neatly onto her tabard, and she glared at him, though he didn't seem to notice.
"Why 'ello there, girlie, what's yer name?"
"None o' joor business."
He blinked and looked up, smirk fading a bit. "What, not even gonna answer a frien'ly question?"
"Da answer be no. Now beat it." She scowled and folded her arms across her chest.
He opened his jaws wide and laughed, spraying spittle across the table. A few of his fellows from the other table turned in their chairs to watch, identical smirks spread across their heavy faces. "Clever one, eh? I ain't even offered t' buy ya a drink yet." He grinned, leaning forward across the table, and lowered his voice. "C'mon, girlie, we both might die tomorrow, an' we both know that with a face like that yer not gonna find much better than me." His gaze drifted down again, over her crossed arms.
There was a loud crack. Her drink was spilled everywhere, sticky punch flowing over the table and splashing onto the ground as she stood glaring at the orc, hands curled into fists. He clutched his nose, glaring back as blood welled up from beneath his fingers.
"You BITCH!"
There was a murmur of nervous laughter from the next table over, and a few more of the men turned to watch, now grinning at their comrade's discomfort. Se'ala took a step back, calves bumping against the overturned chair, and stopped. There was nowhere to run, and besides, running would only make them want to chase her. She raised her fists again, baring her teeth in a snarl as she looked around the courtyard.
"Come on den, who else wants some?"
It was safe here, and warm. She didn't want to leave. In the end, though, it wasn't her choice. Sharp talons tore through the webbing, slicing narrow lines across her face and shoulders, and she tumbled out into emptier darkness, gasping, feeling rough stone beneath her hands and knees. Bony hands grasped her arms, pulling her to her feet and shoving her toward a distant pinprick of light. She looked back--the Forsaken creature grinned, fleshless face illuminated by a sickly yellow glow from deep within its skull--then staggered toward the exit. She'd arrived.
Strands of colored lights creaked and hummed in the breeze from the sea, casting odd and angular shadows over the orcs, trolls, and tauren gathered around tables in the courtyard. Se'ala, seated out of the way in one of the corners, sipped some sweet, tangy drink from a carved-fruit bowl as she watched the others. There was definitely alcohol in it, but she enjoyed the flavor. She would simply have to be careful not to drink too much. The orcs at the next table over were clearly not so cautious; drinks and outrageous descriptions of their women 'back home' flowed freely, and there had been several scuffles throughout the evening as drunken ramblings were mistaken for personal insults. Now, as the night stretched on, they grew bolder, calling out comments and crude invitations to the few women scattered throughout the outdoor bar. Se kept her eyes on her drink, ignoring them. With luck, they would be on a different ship.
There was a rattle of mail armor in front of her, and she looked up to see an orc with a torn ear and a smug, confident smirk plop down in the chair across from her and lean back, eyeing her up and down. His gaze lingered on her chest, his smirk widening. Past experience suggested that he wasn't admiring the Horde emblem stitched neatly onto her tabard, and she glared at him, though he didn't seem to notice.
"Why 'ello there, girlie, what's yer name?"
"None o' joor business."
He blinked and looked up, smirk fading a bit. "What, not even gonna answer a frien'ly question?"
"Da answer be no. Now beat it." She scowled and folded her arms across her chest.
He opened his jaws wide and laughed, spraying spittle across the table. A few of his fellows from the other table turned in their chairs to watch, identical smirks spread across their heavy faces. "Clever one, eh? I ain't even offered t' buy ya a drink yet." He grinned, leaning forward across the table, and lowered his voice. "C'mon, girlie, we both might die tomorrow, an' we both know that with a face like that yer not gonna find much better than me." His gaze drifted down again, over her crossed arms.
There was a loud crack. Her drink was spilled everywhere, sticky punch flowing over the table and splashing onto the ground as she stood glaring at the orc, hands curled into fists. He clutched his nose, glaring back as blood welled up from beneath his fingers.
"You BITCH!"
There was a murmur of nervous laughter from the next table over, and a few more of the men turned to watch, now grinning at their comrade's discomfort. Se'ala took a step back, calves bumping against the overturned chair, and stopped. There was nowhere to run, and besides, running would only make them want to chase her. She raised her fists again, baring her teeth in a snarl as she looked around the courtyard.
"Come on den, who else wants some?"
It was safe here, and warm. She didn't want to leave. In the end, though, it wasn't her choice. Sharp talons tore through the webbing, slicing narrow lines across her face and shoulders, and she tumbled out into emptier darkness, gasping, feeling rough stone beneath her hands and knees. Bony hands grasped her arms, pulling her to her feet and shoving her toward a distant pinprick of light. She looked back--the Forsaken creature grinned, fleshless face illuminated by a sickly yellow glow from deep within its skull--then staggered toward the exit. She'd arrived.