August 19, 2002
recoup [ayydis-malcom]

[wyrmpit]

It took him so long to drag himself home. He knew they could not afford to leave trails, not now, and it has taken its toll indeed.

[Wounded]
[No.Loose.Ends]

Down into the pit, every step painfilled agony shooting through his body from the wicked wounds in his belly. This was not his way, he is not Ahroun, yet he is paying for the decision. It is the way of the pack.

[Pain]

The hunched man drags himself into the chamber that serves as his room, onto the low [slimy] bed that signals home. his breathing heavy, the get tore him open fully, and for now, only his hands keep himself inside himself.


she remains where they left her to do what it is they needed to do - she is not pack. not yet. she must be left behind. Music throbs - low earthy beat, eyes lidded heavily as heartbeat thrums in time (lubdub...lubdub) with base, the Fathers embrase still felt along skin, skin that flushes with (desire) joy in memory as liquid muscle flows, a gracefulness unknown before (..bound by urge..) directing movement as vivid gaze half hides under redgold lashes... lost (intime) to the twisting movements of body in motion

Malcom's slow wake devastated by the Fenrir's shattering bite, his packmate's body dropped onto the bed in the Ragabash's chambers, wound bound to the best of his knowledge (with trembling hands), a breif glance to SickBoy still (recovering) in his (slimy) bed

exhaustion (pain) wracks the Galliard's twisted body

drained, torn, silver shrapnel lodged deep into his back (pressed against cracked and broken ribs) all that reigns in his mind is music's soothing (comforting) touch

the great room
his own chambers forsaken
...........drawn by the beat thumping softly through the floor

he stops (weaving) in the doorway, watching her with mismatched (painfilled from silver's burn) eyes - silent - blinking slowly, then shoving body into motion once more, talons click on the ground and carry him to one of the (his) couch before collapsing

he does not wish to interrupt, only listen


The entrance of brokent bodies goes unnoticed (..lost in thruming call..) though the click of his (torturer) talons filters through, though movement does not stop (...lost to the call...) only flowing to a halt on the (..perfect..) beat that holds and trails to silence. she crouches, then, and (..vibrant..) gaze locks on his (..will you hurt me now?) fingers reach, and music turns lower still, a (visible) hum under her words.
"You're hurt."

a breif smile curves (entertained) mangled lips (Bianca's first words to him) and unevenly glazed blue eyes meet the brightness in hers

..................silver is lodged in my back.......

then slowly close, once beautiful voice only the tiniest mindfelt whisper

....................turn it up again......

Slow lift of her brow, and a shrug (..liquidsmooth..) as she reaches to turn it up again. A flow to stand, and she moves (..glides..) toward a (her) room. She disappears within, but door remains open (..unusual..) until she slips back out again, her pack in hand. She hesitates a moment, before moving toward him (..pained memories of torture at his hand.. though it brought her too the Father, will (can) she ever forget?) and kneels by the couch, opening the pack and rumaging within.

he seems to not care as she leaves (note tapestry a blanket that wraps him) rather turning waning attention to the music that washes over his tar-black pelt, as if the very tones were a thousand minute fingers caressing away his pain

one eye (bale-fire riddled, where they always that way, or is it the Father's gift?) slants open, to feel her kneel beside him, watching as she rummages

There are teachings that she will keep from before, that will be useful in this, her new life, her new fight. a small packet found, and opened, lifted to allow the scents to wash over her, before set aside, and another is chosen. a small bowl with marbled insert is unwrapped from protective cloth and a small jar of skin cream opened, a dollop placed in the bowl. She then shakes a bit of the herbal concoction into the bowl, and crushes it, before mixing well with the cream. (..pain expected, craved by some, it is her way to ease the same..) Bowl set aside, another cloth is unwrapped, and it is then that she lifts her (..vivid..) gaze to his.
"Do you trust me?"

tip of long tail twitches (cat's curiosity) when the herbs are mixed with the cream (a long lost memory glimmers at the scent) studying what she does until their gazes (lock) meet once more

[do you.
trust.
me.]

knuckles (draped arm a slit wrist, seeping off the couch) dragging against the floor between them, dried toxins flaking away from talons curled against his palm
her aid neither requested, nor refused
(a test of her worthiness)

(do you trust me....) She meets his gaze evenly, before she is the first the break it, glancing down at fingers she so carefully wraps in the cloth, teeth worrying over her lower lip before she kneels up and touch - suprisingly gently (...rendscrapeslicebleed...) examin the wound, until - with no further warning protected (barely) fingers find, and grasp, sliver, and pry it loose tossing it aside as wrapped fingers press against the wound to slow the bleeding that begins again

a sound begins (strangled) within the moonsinger's throat, back arching (into) away from the pain, tail snapping (striking) in renewed pain, blood pumps from another wound (almost healed to trap the spike within)

underhinged jaw closing on the couch arm, crushing wood beneath it's strength

but then the burn..... finally..... begins to ebb


Silent, she works, fingers sliding over his back to be sure and remove all trace of silver. This is what she knows, what she has been taught, what Runs-with-Spirits was born to be. Though know she uses Mothers gifts to aid Fathers taint, it does not stop the surity with which fingers move. Bloodflow slowing, she the grabs the prepared herbal cream, which she carefully spreads over aggrivated edges of the wounds, burning pain easing further with crushed (...to be reborn, we must be destroyed...) herbs that sooth ravaged flesh. Finished, she sits back on her heels and wipes her hands clean.

flesh ripples (excited) beneath the sooth of her fingers, low moan crooning past the Galliard's tongue as the crushed furniture is released

his wounds will heal faster now

the arm that dangled between them lifts (slowly) fur across the back of his hand brushing her cheek (the Spiral's primitive, beautiful language) before dropping, glowing eyes slanting halfway closed

She flinches as arm lifts, even as slowly as it does, startled by the gentle brush of his hand that brings her gaze back up to his..a slight smile - though it fades instantly, as she looks over her shoulder
"what of the others?"
thoughts of the Pack... perhaps she will belong...

those eyes (glowing, softly, in the dark) wake to find her once more

........hurt...... alive.....Tamul and Gur'thek worst...

a worry in the whisper (he has not seen Kaj'sha - though knows he was strong enough to lead them away) his gaze drawn to the stereo lcd reflecting off the tossed shard

.............bring that to me......


She nods, turning back to him, and gathering the paste, and her cloth, before she blinks, and stands, moving to where she tossed the shard, picking it up and wiping it clean, she returns to his side and offers it to him with a slight (barely there) smile before it fades again.
"I'll go check the others, and do what I can."
of course, she does not know that Tamul is the object of her terror(obsession)....yet.

silver taken (burning) and held in talons as the creature twists to parody of sitting properly on the (sinking) couch, mule ears flopping to the call of gravity (he has not the strength to hold them) barely a nod to Ayydis' suggestion

the shard already forms a blade
and an idea gleams in the Galliard's mismatched eyes

She watches him a moment (..not so scary no - or is he?) before she turns, and slips into see Malcom first. She is there some time, cleaning and redressing Grra'ack's attempts, assuring that all is well with him before she moves to Sickboy (Tumal) and bile rises and eyes widen and she staggers backwards... hands raised to mouth to hold back gagging reflex as eyes close tightly. She turns on a heel and all but runs (escape!) from the door,slamming it shut behind her as she draws ragged breaths through open lips... shaking her head. She cannot face....that. She pushes away (..as if the door itself burns..) and moves (where is musical guide now) across to the (his) couch, sinking to kneel by her pack again, holding little dish in her hands.
"I tended the one, with the hurt leg."
She has yet to learn their names..
"I will not tend the other. I will tell you what to do should you wish to try, but I will not touch it."
it can rot for all she cares (...how could it all have been a dream...)

as she tended the others, he did not move, save the twist of silver between his talons, attention finally lifting as she speaks

................Gur'thek...... Tamul is the other.....

**growls deep in his chest, half sleep, blood bubbling to his lips**

She nods, and as he remains, she goes about cleaning her hands, her things, and replacing them in her pack, the growl of Gur'thek brings (..vividsnapping..) gaze up again and to his door, before retuning to putting her things away... silent for some time, before..
"..was it really a dream...?"

"Gur'thek."he coughs and several black clots of blood erupt from his mouth and and onto his chest, as his eyes flicker open and he tries to sit up, failing the first time**

mule ears swivel at the sound of Malcom's growl from far down the hall (the movement is breif..... tired) then the whip, silver shard, and other weapons are dropped..... eyes closing before the Galliard resolves his (twisted) body to shift

the monster becoming the man

"Yes."

"Goddamn." he breaths, pushing himself up again. "What the hell happened. Why didnt those gaian bastards kill me."

She glances up as he shifts (..monster..) and then back to her hands, fingers idly moving (..flow..) gracefully, cloth wound between fingers (..fly..) and slid free again, almost a figit, but far to graceful (musical) and smooth (sweet) as the steady bass that still thrums heady undertone carries her fingers in subtly kept time..
"...it still feels real."
the nightmares still haunt.


there's a low chuckle (rich..... pained from still healing ribs) strange eyes watching the figiting girl

"It is a gift from the Goddess. Go see if Malcom can walk...... I doubt the Gaians fed him."

before they close again, head carefully laid back against the couch (this wound will not heal quickly)

"Fed me hell. I think they were tenderizing me to eat me." he growls again and his bulk swells, straining the bandages slightly he takes as deep a breath as the bandages will allow. "Whats been going on while I was out?"

"...it's a gift I'd as soon do without."
the pain in her voice still very raw (..she can feel him between her thighs, crawling maggods pushed deep, fingers stilled to press agianst lower belly where she still is certain metis(dream)baby grows to be ripped from virgin thighs. but she nods, and stands, cloth tucked away in her pack before she moves to Malcom's room and to his side.
"Can you walk? I'll help..."
arm offered..

turns slowly in the bed, not questioning her freedom in the pit. "Was that Ash I heard in there?" he says sitting on the edge of the bed, taking her arm and pulling careful not to put weight on his chewed ankle

he cannot help the chuckle (wheezing when ribs scream complaint) watching as they move back into the great room from his vantage point on the (soft, lovingly soft) couch

"I wouldn't doubt it..... you felt a little soft when I was carrying you home. This is Ayydis....... she danced to join us only a few days ago. Kyrsha'Wai'Gas danced last night......"

"Kyrsha'Wai'Gas?" he asks limping slowly to stand near the bed leaning on Ayydis

those uneven eyes lift to his packmate

"I think you know her as Gaby Jones."

he growls slightly, recognizing the jones part at least. "Ya know Ash. What the hell is this. Some Gaian's kick my ass, and drag me around New Jersey for a couple days and you go out and play with my toys." he sighs "Well hell. I'd like to congradulate her."

She nods, and helps him to the great room, and straight to a couch to be settled down, keeping the weight from his ankle
"Sit. I didn't patch you up just to ahve you bleed through my work."
the subtle command of healer in her voice (though she'll sweep that leg to get him to sit if she needs too) and afterwards, she settles again to her knees on the floor, siting back on her heels, wrapping and rewrapping the cloth between fingers again. she glances up at Grra'ack, and softly
"Taryn. My other name. In case you wondered. Taryn Faye."
then she falls silent, inching closer to the stereo, as fingers begin subtle dance again..

a slight smile tugs at his lips, again that (soft, soft) chuckle

"We weren't sure if we'd be able to bring you back to us, Malcom..... and I didn't want all your work to go to waste. I checked on her last night, I wanted to make sure she was allright, and she asked to see the Father...... just to see..... who was I to refuse such a request? As soon as she saw Him..... she began her Dance. I think she's still resting down in the tunnels....."

he says nothing of the slight nudge given to help her along the way


sits slowly on the couch though, looking at the girl briefly, deciding that two more having danced isnt a bad thing, so long as they dont think he's their meat to boss around. Once's he feels better that is. "I see. Well, I suppose I cant blame you for agreeing to her request. Did she know where I was?" he groans and rubs his ribs where Deckers fangs first tore into his flesh

Boss around? please, she is quickly ignored (you're welcome, asshole) as they talk and she closes her eyes and listens to the (throbbing pound) music thrumming through the speakers, relaxing as it weaves through her, and hands - not just fingers - begin intoxicated (interpretive) dance again..


his head shakes

"None of us knew until Sian created another questing stone earlier today...."

and his gaze flicks (dominance pins) to Ayydis

"Taryn, hm? Malcom." nods to his packmate "And I"m Asher."

he glances at the girl near the stero again "Hey wait a second. Is she the chick from the other night?"

"Yes."

She turns her head (..vivid..) gaze meeting mismatched, as she nods. A flicker glance to Malcom, then back to Asher, as she hands continue their unconscious (so very heartfelt, easy) weave

he chuckles, a bubbling wet sounding, laugh that bubbles up from his injured chest. "Well Ayydis, Why arent you tore up like Ash and Sickboy?"

A shrug, and the the movement continues in a ripple down her arm, a slight smile passing her lips before fading again cloth wound slid free, wound again
"I did as I was told."
a slow smile (as if insinuating the others hadn't, but she wasn't, of course. She was told to remain, she did so) - though as all of them (so few), it is brief, and slides away again

"Well, thanks for mummyfying me in anycase, even if I still hurt like hell." he grimices and chuckles

"She is not ready to fight with us just yet..... but will be soon."

the smile (twisted affection) creeping across his lips once more, before the Galliard slowly rises to his feet (weapons grabbed, arm tucked protectively around slowly healing ribs) moving to stagger towards his own bed before exhaustion completely claims him

A shrug, it's what she was trained to do (...before...) but she offers
"I can make a tea that will help is the pain if you want it."
she watches Asher rise, the affection sending a tremor down her spine, and gaze hides instantly under lashes, head turned away (..violate me..) to watch the cloth ripple over fingertips.

"If you dont mind." he grins at her, his smile only a hint of its usual all american handsomeness


[and asher is out for the count, though scene continued]

Posted by asher at August 19, 2002 12:00 AM
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