Last night I dreamed I was chasing a pack of wolves, trying to belong | CLOSED

[fuck_chapstick]

WHO: Karu-Sil/fuck_chapstick; M'stra/misschocolover
WHERE: Somewhere in Queens, right across from the island where the Superjail is.
WHEN: Backdated to late December 5th; early December 6th, right after the police move to take back the Superjail from the Major.
WARNINGS: No porn! Lots of ouching, though.
SUMMARY: Karu-Sil managed to escape the prison after losing to Kyle

Comments

[misschocolover]

Crates are not M'stra's idea of living in style, but they are her idea of living under the radar, and she's endured much worse when hunted, when shoved into the fucking Phantom Zone. She'd often idly wondered if such a thing existed here and thrilled at the thought that it didn't. That perhaps, truly, nothing could contain her

[fuck_chapstick]

Despite all of the exhaustion and pain, and the humiliation she feels at being so helpless, Karu-Sil does not show weakness in her black eyes. She just looks at her for a moment, and tries to speak. With no energy to translate her words, she opts for the few words of English she knows, and one of the only ones she can fully pronounce this way.

"Hurt."

[misschocolover]

M'stra raises a brow, an elegant querying arch, but doesn't verbally ask her anymore. Something more than physical is paining the girl if she can barely speak.

"Since when am I your nursemaid?" she mutters, but slips an arm under Karu Sil's shoulders anyway and almost bodily hauls her inside the crate. It's no effort for M'stra, she might have lifted the lantern and flung her across the room one handed if she liked, but Karu Sil herself looks like she can barely stand and if she's going to help M'stra isn't going to wait for her to hobble inside all trussed up with too much pride.

It would be easy to slam the door in her face and let her freeze to death or exsanguinate, whichever came first, but then there would be a body on her doorstep and a potential ally out of M'stra's reach...

[fuck_chapstick]

Karu-Sil lets out a breath at the touch, but does nothing else until she's inside. When she's certain she won't be torn apart (at least not immediately), she makes a noise of thanks, twists so she can see the thorn jammed into her shoulder, and pulls it out with her teeth. Blood seeps out and begins soaking into her yellow collar, but she isn't going to be able to move her arm to get to the others unless that first one is out.