...Sing This Corrosion To Me... [LOG]
Disclaimer: Once again, the log's a bit above PG13, for violence, creepy Black Road happenings, and the darker nature of the Weir. Set in Arden, this happened the day before the Amber Forces were sent off to Pengali, and explains why Rae is not there. It's Dramatic. It's Epic. It's Dark. That said...
It's with caution that Rae approaches where Prospero has seated himself, looking to the treestump he's upon as if it might suddenly swallow him up. Or vice versa. "How is your wound?," she offers towards the man.
Prospero has picked a treestump at the edge, but not part of, the Black Road. "Healing nicely," he says to Rae. "How does my blood set upon you stomach?"
Rae's lips quirk. "It was pleasant enough," she muses. A few more steps are taken towards him, a slight lessening to her caution when she sees he isn't on the Road at the moment.
Prospero holds his hand out to her. "You need not stand. My lap is yours, pretty wolf.'
Rae looks at his hand as if it might hide a dagger within it, somewhere. Perhaps a very tiny one, within his palm. "That carving you left behind, the night in the Mead Hall...did you craft it yourself?," she wonders, glancing at his lap curiously.
Prospero's hand is empty, his lap inviting. "I did," he tells her. "Did you keep it?"
Rae nods. "I did, yes. It was beautiful, in its way." Carefully, warily, she moves to sit within his lap.
Prospero's arms curl around the wolf when she settles in his lap. "In its way?" he asks her, brushing his lips, then teeth, along her jawline.
Rae seems to consider her words for a moment. "It was not a thing of usual beauty, but darker. The material it was crafted from...what was it?"
Prospero's mouth slides up to her ear on its way. "Do you wish all my secrets, pretty wolf?" he asks in a soft, seductive whisper.
Rae shivers at the sensation of the whisper and his lips. "Only the ones you'd be willing to part with, Prospero," she whispers in return.
Prospero bites down on the lobe of her ear, teeth digging into the skin and scraping when he finally pulls back from her ear a scant half inch. "And what do you offer in return for my secrets, dear wolf?"
Rae mmms lowly, taking a moment to reply to his question. "They are your secrets. You get to name the price. Isn't that the way of trade? And then I try to convince you to take something less."
Cut for an exchange of secrets. And a kissing part. But this isn't a Kissing Book, so...
Prospero's hand is unrelenting. "Your heart is racing now. Your breathing a bit labored, your mind foggy." He smiles down at her. "They feel like things of passion." His free hand strokes through her hair. "I coated my skin in a delightful substance. A weak poison if you will." He grins. "Don't try biting. I think by now your muscles should be going limp, your eyes growing heavy..."
The look in Rae's eyes changes to many things. Confusion, surprise, fear, and then finally a primal, raw anger. One of her hands moves, fingers twitching as if she'd go for the dagger she keeps in her boot. But she can't get it to move that far. Her eyes start to flutter, and she tries so hard to keep them open. It's a loosing battle.
"I'll give you what you want, my love," Prospero says. "You want to know the Road as a lover, but won't admit it aloud. I'll show you that too. And you'll be awake through it all. Unable to move, but conscious."
Rae finds the strength in her to growl, a low and wolfen sound, meant to be a threat. Her arms slump at her sides, unable to reach that dagger still.
Prospero lets go, letting her fall to the ground. And then? He drags her onto the Road.
{In which we put Kazimir's Dramatic Timing to good use}
The sky is darkening in this part of Arden, near the edges of the forest where the Black Road runs. But there's movement, on the Road itself. A man in black, his hair stark and white, is hunched over something.... No, someone. Someone naked and staked down to the vile Road, her clothing in an untidy pile nearby.
That someone doesn't seem to be moving, or struggling. She could quite possibly be unconscious, or perhaps she doesn't want to escape. The clothing is hide, shades of grey and green.
Kazimir is moving through Arden. Closer to the Road than he usually travels, but the darkening sky is giving him cause to hurry toward his destination. The movement on the Road catches his attention, and the more he sees the less he likes. He slows and diverts toward the scene, hand automatically drifting down to the hilt of his sword as he moves.
Prospero squats down next to the unmoving Rae, one hand tenderly caressing her cheek. "Sometimes we have to do for others what they will not do for themselves, my dear. I wish I had the patience to get you to admit what is you wanted, but you're so wrapped in your own lies...." He sighs and rises, drawing his rapier. A few quick flicks of the blade might open Rae's skin enough to draw tiny vines of red on her.
For it's part, the Road is accepting of its offering. Its dark grasses turning thick and long as they wrap around Rae, sapping strength she doesn't appear to have.
The only answer, the only response, that comes from Rae is a hiss. She might've been trying to make it a growl, but a hiss is all that is managed. The Weir seems unable to keep her eyes fully open, something making them want to close.
As Kazimir gets close enough to see exactly what is going on, and some of Prospero's words reach his ear, his eyes flood with a hot, feral anger. His blade is drawn with a snarl, and for a moment he just stands there vibrating with that anger, unable to do anything else as he fights to gain some kind of control over it.
"Don't worry, my dear. I will not let it harm you. Merely kiss you. Take you." Prospero keeps his sword drawn, the blade glinting, the blood dripping.
Rae bleeds, and the Road seems to take that away from he as well. She makes another hiss, her eyes fluttering, dark with anger in the moments they can be seen.
"You!" Kazimir snarls, though it might as well be a yell, pointing his blade straight at Propsero. He stands a little off the Road. "Turn and face me, and greet your death." Though there doesn't seem room for negotiation, his anger has a decidedly cold flavor now...he's mastered it enough that he's not immediately leaping for the man.
Prospero's rapier slips up to an en-garde as he turns to see who would ruin this perfect night. "Ah," he says, almost pleased. "Would you join this one? I'm afraid I'm not much for men as lovers..."
Robbed of the strength to move, Rae stays as she is, the Road working its way into her soul. Inwardly, she might be cursing Kazimir or praising his timely arrival. If only it had been a bit more...timely.
Kazimir smiles, though there's nothing friendly or pleased about the expression. "I have but one lover, and I desire no more. And you have her tied down there in offering to that foul thing. I will give you a dance, though only one of us will walk away." And suddenly he's a blur of motion, leaping for the other man with a flash of metal as his blade moves through the air.
Prospero laughs. "Then let us duel for who will have her; the other to stay here as a decorative corpse!" His blade is quick, his motions agile, his ability with a sword an art unto itself.
"There is no question." Kazimir growls, suddenly in front of Prospero. "I will kill you, and take back what is mine." He seems to be becoming more feral by the moment, his movements garbed in a dangerous beauty. His blade is an extension of himself as he literally dances, graceful and quick.
There's nothing feral in Prospero's features, merely a mask of civility, a smile that speaks of sin, and a grace that's nearly a match for the Weir's. Nearly. But for all the flare of Prospero's swordwork, he doesn't seem -quite- fast enough. Here, there, a gash is opened, a hiss coming from his mouth.
Each time a gash opens and that hiss issues forth, Kazimir smiles that same cruel, bloodthirsty, smile. An observer might note just enough similarities between the two fighting to be troubling, despite the fact each is intent on killing the other. The dance continues under the darkening skies, flashing steel moving almost faster than the eye can see.
Desperation can be an art too. Lovely lines of flashing steel and the percussion, though irregular and arythmic, of blade against blade set the pace for the dance. But the ringing, the screeching, is growing less and less often and more and more it's the hissing. Until, at last, Prospero gasps, his eyes going wide as he just stares at Kazimir. And slumps to his knees; skewered.
There is a part of Rae that is grateful that she cannot watch. And another that hates the fact that only sounds give clue as to what's going on. She lets her eyes close, and seems to just give up trying.
Kazimir stares down at Prospero, withdrawing his sword from the man and raising it upward. His eyes are hard and unforgiving, and for a moment he just stares. "Mine." He finally snarls, and brings the blade down toward the other's neck as his eyes flood with vicious, triumphant, joy.
Thump, roll, roll, stopping at Rae's feet is... Prospero's head. The body falls over, spurting blood.
Rae, as lovely as she is nude, is bleeding. And has a head at her feet. The fact that her irises are blood red likely isn't a good sign. But at least they are only seen on occasion.
Kazimir frowns as he notices something that slipped from his foe's sleeves as it fell, bending to pick it up. When the Weir sees what it is his expression darkens further, tucking it away as he turns to free Rae with quick slashes at the bonds binding her. "Time to go home." He murmurs.
Rae doesn't seem to be able to move. But she is conscious, that much is clear. Aware. Just unable to do anything. She makes a sound that could mean anything.
Kazimir pauses half a moment to take Prospero's weapon, presumably to show to someone, tucking it in his belt next to his own. "It's alright." He murmurs when Rae makes that sound, bending down to scoop her up in his arms. "It's alright."
Rae's muscles are stiff, unwilling to move under her own power. But Kazimir can bend her easily for the scooping, and she makes no verbal protest of it. It might be her last bit of strength that makes her head flop against his chest, tilted downwards. A few whimpers come, distraught little sounds that are quick to leave her.
"We need to be elsewhere...now." Kazimir murmurs as much to himself as to Rae. The card he took off his foe has reminded him of something, and after a moment he produces a similar one. This takes a while, since he's unwilling to put Rae down. "If ever I needed you to work little card, it is now." He murmurs to the thing gravely, before activating it the way the subject of it showed him. After a hurried conversation, Emrys takes the two through leaving behind only rainbow afterimages that quickly fade.
It's with caution that Rae approaches where Prospero has seated himself, looking to the treestump he's upon as if it might suddenly swallow him up. Or vice versa. "How is your wound?," she offers towards the man.
Prospero has picked a treestump at the edge, but not part of, the Black Road. "Healing nicely," he says to Rae. "How does my blood set upon you stomach?"
Rae's lips quirk. "It was pleasant enough," she muses. A few more steps are taken towards him, a slight lessening to her caution when she sees he isn't on the Road at the moment.
Prospero holds his hand out to her. "You need not stand. My lap is yours, pretty wolf.'
Rae looks at his hand as if it might hide a dagger within it, somewhere. Perhaps a very tiny one, within his palm. "That carving you left behind, the night in the Mead Hall...did you craft it yourself?," she wonders, glancing at his lap curiously.
Prospero's hand is empty, his lap inviting. "I did," he tells her. "Did you keep it?"
Rae nods. "I did, yes. It was beautiful, in its way." Carefully, warily, she moves to sit within his lap.
Prospero's arms curl around the wolf when she settles in his lap. "In its way?" he asks her, brushing his lips, then teeth, along her jawline.
Rae seems to consider her words for a moment. "It was not a thing of usual beauty, but darker. The material it was crafted from...what was it?"
Prospero's mouth slides up to her ear on its way. "Do you wish all my secrets, pretty wolf?" he asks in a soft, seductive whisper.
Rae shivers at the sensation of the whisper and his lips. "Only the ones you'd be willing to part with, Prospero," she whispers in return.
Prospero bites down on the lobe of her ear, teeth digging into the skin and scraping when he finally pulls back from her ear a scant half inch. "And what do you offer in return for my secrets, dear wolf?"
Rae mmms lowly, taking a moment to reply to his question. "They are your secrets. You get to name the price. Isn't that the way of trade? And then I try to convince you to take something less."
Cut for an exchange of secrets. And a kissing part. But this isn't a Kissing Book, so...
Prospero's hand is unrelenting. "Your heart is racing now. Your breathing a bit labored, your mind foggy." He smiles down at her. "They feel like things of passion." His free hand strokes through her hair. "I coated my skin in a delightful substance. A weak poison if you will." He grins. "Don't try biting. I think by now your muscles should be going limp, your eyes growing heavy..."
The look in Rae's eyes changes to many things. Confusion, surprise, fear, and then finally a primal, raw anger. One of her hands moves, fingers twitching as if she'd go for the dagger she keeps in her boot. But she can't get it to move that far. Her eyes start to flutter, and she tries so hard to keep them open. It's a loosing battle.
"I'll give you what you want, my love," Prospero says. "You want to know the Road as a lover, but won't admit it aloud. I'll show you that too. And you'll be awake through it all. Unable to move, but conscious."
Rae finds the strength in her to growl, a low and wolfen sound, meant to be a threat. Her arms slump at her sides, unable to reach that dagger still.
Prospero lets go, letting her fall to the ground. And then? He drags her onto the Road.
{In which we put Kazimir's Dramatic Timing to good use}
The sky is darkening in this part of Arden, near the edges of the forest where the Black Road runs. But there's movement, on the Road itself. A man in black, his hair stark and white, is hunched over something.... No, someone. Someone naked and staked down to the vile Road, her clothing in an untidy pile nearby.
That someone doesn't seem to be moving, or struggling. She could quite possibly be unconscious, or perhaps she doesn't want to escape. The clothing is hide, shades of grey and green.
Kazimir is moving through Arden. Closer to the Road than he usually travels, but the darkening sky is giving him cause to hurry toward his destination. The movement on the Road catches his attention, and the more he sees the less he likes. He slows and diverts toward the scene, hand automatically drifting down to the hilt of his sword as he moves.
Prospero squats down next to the unmoving Rae, one hand tenderly caressing her cheek. "Sometimes we have to do for others what they will not do for themselves, my dear. I wish I had the patience to get you to admit what is you wanted, but you're so wrapped in your own lies...." He sighs and rises, drawing his rapier. A few quick flicks of the blade might open Rae's skin enough to draw tiny vines of red on her.
For it's part, the Road is accepting of its offering. Its dark grasses turning thick and long as they wrap around Rae, sapping strength she doesn't appear to have.
The only answer, the only response, that comes from Rae is a hiss. She might've been trying to make it a growl, but a hiss is all that is managed. The Weir seems unable to keep her eyes fully open, something making them want to close.
As Kazimir gets close enough to see exactly what is going on, and some of Prospero's words reach his ear, his eyes flood with a hot, feral anger. His blade is drawn with a snarl, and for a moment he just stands there vibrating with that anger, unable to do anything else as he fights to gain some kind of control over it.
"Don't worry, my dear. I will not let it harm you. Merely kiss you. Take you." Prospero keeps his sword drawn, the blade glinting, the blood dripping.
Rae bleeds, and the Road seems to take that away from he as well. She makes another hiss, her eyes fluttering, dark with anger in the moments they can be seen.
"You!" Kazimir snarls, though it might as well be a yell, pointing his blade straight at Propsero. He stands a little off the Road. "Turn and face me, and greet your death." Though there doesn't seem room for negotiation, his anger has a decidedly cold flavor now...he's mastered it enough that he's not immediately leaping for the man.
Prospero's rapier slips up to an en-garde as he turns to see who would ruin this perfect night. "Ah," he says, almost pleased. "Would you join this one? I'm afraid I'm not much for men as lovers..."
Robbed of the strength to move, Rae stays as she is, the Road working its way into her soul. Inwardly, she might be cursing Kazimir or praising his timely arrival. If only it had been a bit more...timely.
Kazimir smiles, though there's nothing friendly or pleased about the expression. "I have but one lover, and I desire no more. And you have her tied down there in offering to that foul thing. I will give you a dance, though only one of us will walk away." And suddenly he's a blur of motion, leaping for the other man with a flash of metal as his blade moves through the air.
Prospero laughs. "Then let us duel for who will have her; the other to stay here as a decorative corpse!" His blade is quick, his motions agile, his ability with a sword an art unto itself.
"There is no question." Kazimir growls, suddenly in front of Prospero. "I will kill you, and take back what is mine." He seems to be becoming more feral by the moment, his movements garbed in a dangerous beauty. His blade is an extension of himself as he literally dances, graceful and quick.
There's nothing feral in Prospero's features, merely a mask of civility, a smile that speaks of sin, and a grace that's nearly a match for the Weir's. Nearly. But for all the flare of Prospero's swordwork, he doesn't seem -quite- fast enough. Here, there, a gash is opened, a hiss coming from his mouth.
Each time a gash opens and that hiss issues forth, Kazimir smiles that same cruel, bloodthirsty, smile. An observer might note just enough similarities between the two fighting to be troubling, despite the fact each is intent on killing the other. The dance continues under the darkening skies, flashing steel moving almost faster than the eye can see.
Desperation can be an art too. Lovely lines of flashing steel and the percussion, though irregular and arythmic, of blade against blade set the pace for the dance. But the ringing, the screeching, is growing less and less often and more and more it's the hissing. Until, at last, Prospero gasps, his eyes going wide as he just stares at Kazimir. And slumps to his knees; skewered.
There is a part of Rae that is grateful that she cannot watch. And another that hates the fact that only sounds give clue as to what's going on. She lets her eyes close, and seems to just give up trying.
Kazimir stares down at Prospero, withdrawing his sword from the man and raising it upward. His eyes are hard and unforgiving, and for a moment he just stares. "Mine." He finally snarls, and brings the blade down toward the other's neck as his eyes flood with vicious, triumphant, joy.
Thump, roll, roll, stopping at Rae's feet is... Prospero's head. The body falls over, spurting blood.
Rae, as lovely as she is nude, is bleeding. And has a head at her feet. The fact that her irises are blood red likely isn't a good sign. But at least they are only seen on occasion.
Kazimir frowns as he notices something that slipped from his foe's sleeves as it fell, bending to pick it up. When the Weir sees what it is his expression darkens further, tucking it away as he turns to free Rae with quick slashes at the bonds binding her. "Time to go home." He murmurs.
Rae doesn't seem to be able to move. But she is conscious, that much is clear. Aware. Just unable to do anything. She makes a sound that could mean anything.
Kazimir pauses half a moment to take Prospero's weapon, presumably to show to someone, tucking it in his belt next to his own. "It's alright." He murmurs when Rae makes that sound, bending down to scoop her up in his arms. "It's alright."
Rae's muscles are stiff, unwilling to move under her own power. But Kazimir can bend her easily for the scooping, and she makes no verbal protest of it. It might be her last bit of strength that makes her head flop against his chest, tilted downwards. A few whimpers come, distraught little sounds that are quick to leave her.
"We need to be elsewhere...now." Kazimir murmurs as much to himself as to Rae. The card he took off his foe has reminded him of something, and after a moment he produces a similar one. This takes a while, since he's unwilling to put Rae down. "If ever I needed you to work little card, it is now." He murmurs to the thing gravely, before activating it the way the subject of it showed him. After a hurried conversation, Emrys takes the two through leaving behind only rainbow afterimages that quickly fade.