The Past Is Haunting [Eri]

[Canali]

Timestamp to be set by Eri. The hair on the back of Canali's neck was standing on end. Feet slapped silently against the ground behind her. It may have been the middle of the day, but Canali felt as though the world was dark. A strange sense of foreboding had covered her like a blanket. Canali wished for her backpack but it was back at camp. She felt slightly naked without it. Anything necessary at nearly any time was in it. There was little comfort in the knife strapped to her thigh. How could a simple blade keep her safe against the monsters called people? Canali had been on her way back to the Crimson Edge Camp from town after trying to re-accustom herself to Sunberth's brutality. Mura had been such a peaceful place. Pacifistic and calm while Sunberth was murderous and chaotic. Mura had Canali's heart, Nasib. Sunberth did not. A sad sigh slid through Canali's lips before she could stop it. After realizing her mistake, she tried to blend it with the mad rush of people. Immediately, she was swamped and overwhelmed. Others were pushing and mean, often spitting curse words at her as she fumbled through their grace. Canali was shoved once and stumbled, only caught by very masculine hand. A hand that had a death grip on her upper arm. Gritting her teeth to keep from crying out, Canali stumbled after him in the direction he pulled. The fingernails she spotted were yellow and cracked; overgrown and gross. She had seen these hands before. Thud, thud, went her heart before skipping a beat. The breath in her lungs caught and held, threatening to strangle her. Too late she realized he was heading for the nearest alley. Even if she screamed, no one would come running to her rescue. The breath whooshed from her lungs as she was shoved mercilessly against the hard wall. To keep from scratching the man's eyes out, Canali buried her nails into the boards behind her. Subconsciously, she was aware of the splinters sliding into her fingertips. Grey eyes hardened to cold ice as Canali saw the man's face. A savage sense of exasperation arched through her. The man had changed from clean shaven to grisly and unkempt. Stubble coated his jaw. His hair was longer; no longer short and fuzzy. Greasier and nearly past his ears. The man's body aged well. Barely any fat covered his bones, but that could have been from the lack of food. It was the man's eyes that scared Canali. They were hungry and not for food. A feral smile slid across his lips. "Why, darling, I see you recognize me." One hand arced upwards to smack against her cheek and grab a harsh handful of her dark hair. Calmly, the man jerked her head up to meet his eyes. "I told you, before I left, that I would be back again. What did you do? You ran. Hon, I could have given you the best time. You were one of the best for me. So tight…" A low groan slid from his lips as he remembered. Shoving her back against the wall with the other strong hand, the man pulled Canali's head sharply to the side, exposing her neck. Bending down, he placed biting, disgusting, kisses against the flesh; hesitated over her racing pulse. The man's body was pressed against her own, the bulge in his pants rubbing against her, promising of dark horrors. "I told you I would be back," he growled, using a calloused hand to grip the tender skin of her breast. Squeezed savagely. A whimper escaped Canali's lips in pain. She seemed frozen to the spot. Unable to fight back against her attacker; against the man who had raped her seven years ago. Hot tears gathered in her eyes. Canali's mind took her away from the situation to protect her, as it had done when Antar had gotten too close after over-giving with the auristics. Idly, she was aware of the man saying more words. Something about whether or not she was even more of a whore now. He didn't seem to realize Canali had never sold her body. The man didn't seem to realize he had taken her virginity a horrible way that night, or that she had trusted few men after that. He didn't know she had refused to speak to anyone for weeks on end. Nearly starved herself from being sick over worry of whether or not she was pregnant. In the end, it turned out she was not. The sky was blue this day. How could the sky be blue when Canali kept seeing the red blood on the sheets after he left? Would the Gods be so cruel?

[Eridanus]

OOCScroll down for the TL;DR version

Day 68, Fall of 511 AV
Sometime around Midday

Eridanus was crouched against the wall of a random alley, hidden from sight from the large amount of randomly piled junk and debris. He had been wandering around, having been given an early time-off by Tua due to him having completed his quota earlier today. He was bored, but not bored enough to return to his usual slumming spot at the library, and he soon found himself drifting into one of the many alleys Sunberth had. This particular one happened to be empty, and that perfectly suited him for despite the numerous alleys the city had, most of them turned out to be occupied for one illicit activity or another. He was not exactly in the mood for fighting, though both his long swords remained strapped behind his back for safety. Sunberth was a dangerous city to be in if one was unarmed. It was almost like holding a huge sign and begging to be victimized.

The Vantha had found a somewhat dull knife from a box that seemed to carry discarded tools, either broken or dull from wear and tear. Using this knife, he had been carving random graffiti on the walls, though he was not particularly good at it, and when he had stepped back to take a look it was not surprising to say that he was disappointed at the result. He wondered for a moment why he was behaving like a typical bored hoodlum, and then a great idea came to his head. Since he had some time to burn anyway, he might as well do something useful.

That was how Eri found himself backed against the wall, a dull scraping sound echoing in the empty alley as he began to carve on the floor. The walls narrowed in where he was, and so his carvings were right smack in the middle of the alley. It opened up further down, but no one would notice him because of the box that blocked his crouched frame.

PyrA'redarktis

He was slowly getting better at this, and he painstaking carved an rough glyph. It was a collection of symbols that would form a focus sigil and it was the usual simple one that he always used. Now was the one that would take longer, and he furrowed his brows in concentration as he slowly carved a rough circle around the focus sigil, and begun to add a series of glyphs, rune by rune, at the circumference of the circle, sure to connect the glyphs to the circumference.

Mordovik Hejvank Vrask Dlinkfetil

These sigils he spent the better half of a third of a bell to carve, the work actually made longer because of his unfamiliarity with the knife. He was quite aware he was defacing the city, of course, but it did not really matter. Not in Sunberth where the only rules to follow was whoever had the biggest blade.

Finally, he dug the knife deeper, vandalizing the floor further with a line away from the circle. There was a screeching sound and he he winced, stopping the knife. He decided that the distance was enough, and he proceeded to carve the final mark of this simple mechanism.

Tu'gadKinhackt

The trigger sigil. Most often he had finished a wonderfully designed glyph only to realize that he forgot to include the trigger sigil into his calculations, essentially making the glyph a djed trap, able to absorb spells but not release them, making them useless. The only way he could think of releasing the djed in such a situation was either to somehow mess up the glyph or overload it, though he was sure that he would not want to anywhere near the glyphs if any of these two methods were used. You never knew with these kind of things.

There, it should be fine.

Another idea popped into his mind, and he began to grin mischievously. He looked at the trigger sigil again, and he added a few more symbols to it, taking care to add a few more to the barrier sigil too to account for this modification. He briefly scanned through the whole glyph, and he grunted in satisfaction, and he expanded on this idea in his head.

Almost a third of a season ago, his experiments had been interrupted quite rudely by Bob that resulted in him getting his pants on fire. At the butt region. It was highly embarrassing, not to mention not very nice, and by the time he was done making his plan there was a full-grown grin on the Vantha's face, his eyes flashing in mischievous glee. He was somehow going to lure Bob over here and set his pants on fire. That would teach that little shyke and it would be quite an awesome payback.

The trigger was slightly more complicated than usual, but it was basic enough for Eri to not screw up it. Basically it required a sort of pressure on the focus sigil as the first condition, like Bob standing on it. Then the second condition was for anyone in the area to say "Bob". This was to prevent any accidental discharges while he was off fetching the midget here for the revenge prank.

With excitement, he began to focus deep down within him, calling out the djed streams not to redirect them, but to extract some of it, his djed manifesting as pure, blindingly white res floating just above his palm. He thought for a moment, and extruded just a tad more res, slightly adding to the gaseous ball floating above his palm, and he began to focus on heat. The Res began to glow white-hot, and after a moment of concentration it began to burst into flames, the lively cackle of magical fire causing the Vantha to grin even more.

Oh Bob's is so going to get it this time.

He willed the burning ball of flame into a set trajectory and he flung it into the glyph. There was a crack when the flame hit the focus sigil, and it disappeared, the carved outlines on the ground glowing pure white for a second before returning to normal. Eri sighed with relief as his glyph worked, and he quickly tapped into his djed to focus on the glyph aura, cutting the flow of djed immediately when he saw the shining aura emanating from the carvings on the ground as compared to the dull colours of the ground next to it. No point wasting precious djed.

TL;DRYeah the real stuff starts here xD

He dusted his pants as he began to stand up, but he suddenly heard movement, a stumble here, and voice there, and he quickly resumed his hiding spot. Slowly peering on top of the box that would hide him, he found a couple in a sort of embrace, the man had the woman against the wall, one hand holding her against it while the other groped her quite roughly.

Well, he was not one to peep on others, and he had no interest to do so. Unlike the voyeurs that Zandelia or Bob may be at that time in the spa when it was clear that Antar and Shai had something going on in that department, he had left with Zenai to settle more pragmatic businesses instead of creeping to peep on them. He thought of a way to remove himself from the situation without intruding, when a heard a single muffled sob. Normally it would be difficult to hear it, but in this closed-end empty alley, the sound echoed off the walls, making it louder than it was.

He peered up again, and he squinted as he looked closely at the woman. Unconsciously, djed rushed into his straining eyes and he found himself focusing on the man's aura. He shook his head, and instead refocused his stare at the woman, and while the man whispered more things to her while his wandering hands helped themselves to the woman's body, he found certain information from the aura, discarding it until he chanced upon the thing that he suspected.

The emotion of fear.

So this was an involuntary thing? Strange though, I'd thought that the victims would struggle and make more noise.

He began to creep over the box, taking care not to step too noisily on the floor. The man was too wrapped up in his desires to be alert, and that suited the Vantha's purposes just fine. He sneaked towards mouth of the alley, towards the couple, and as he passed by behind the rough man, he looked at the woman and made eye contact for a second. Just to ascertain that he was not accidentally tearing up a real couple. It would be highly embarrassing for him.

That second of eye contact would be enough for him to ascertain her wishes. If he was indeed being a third party, he would simply leave. If not, he had no mercy for those who preyed on the vulnerable. In his eyes, they were like slavers, and he had a zero tolerance policy for these people. In his eyes, these people deserved to be taken down with extreme prejudice, and that was how he started his first day in Sunberth. A violent dispatch of a group of slavers who wanted to capture him.

[Canali]

Canali's skin burned where the man touched it. In the back of her mind, she was unconsciously aware of how her body had yet to actually fight back. Why wasn't she fighting back? Canali tried to move her arm, to hit the ogre in the face, but her brain shot down the idea and she was rendered motionless. It was as though she was frozen in place. Was this what they called shock? If a person were to shine a light in her eyes, would her pupils stay large? A small shudder slid through her fragile body. The man brutalizing her took that as she wanted it and tightened his grip in her hair. Pain pulsed from the spot where the strands on her scalp were pulled their tightest, ready to break and rip from her skin. Canali had been raped before, when she was only fourteen years old, but she didn't relish being put through the misery again. Especially by the same brute who had committed the act before. How could someone hurt someone so much with only one situation? Did someone come by this naturally or were they bred into it? Was she simply mistaking the circumstances? Had he been raised by a father who raped his mother? Was the man once a slave to a master who enjoyed forcing others into acts of pleasure and terror? Had the man taken refuge in his mind and driven himself past the point of sanity from mentally searching for answers? Canali knew what this was like; this wondering if they were truly sane while being insane. "C'mon, hon," Nathan coaxed futilely. He was worried over his daughter, Canali. She was aware of this, but instead focused on his face, not meeting his eyes. Why would he worry about her? No. A better question was; why should he worry about her? Canali was nothing, no one. Just another passing soul. In the back of her mind, she failed to acknowledge the tiny voice screaming she WAS someone. A soft sigh slid through her lips, unheard by her father. Grey eyes refused to focus on his. She was less than someone… no, anyone. On the same level as the women of the streets who sold their bodies. A mental cringe overtook her frail body. No better than a hooker… Curled up in the wooden rocking chair, Canali held her knees to her chest with interlocked hands. A young, fragile mind tried to process what had been done to her now brutalized body. Pale and whiter than even the dead, she had slept little and had the purple bags under her eyes to show it. Long, wild hair framed the skinny face, making it seem even more… dead. Grey eyes often stayed unfocused or concentrated in one spot for longer than was normal. Canali had been sitting in the same spot for a week, only moving when she had to use the bathroom. Eating and sleeping was done in the same spot. Those who watched over her claimed she didn't sleep at all, instead stared into space. What little food made its way to Canali's stomach was held down only by force and inner control. The nausea would rise in her throat as her mind would travel back the dark pathway to thinking. She refused to talk. The first day, after the horrible act had been committed and Nathan had found her huddling in the corner clutching her torn clothing, Canali had been left alone to "come out of shock" as a passerby put it. Nathan believed she was only molested by someone drunk. Couldn't -wouldn't- believe her innocence had been stolen in the most brutal way- by force. Nathan had cradled her, but soon left on another drug run, leaving her to her own. One of the tavern keepers had spotted Canali when she cautiously made her way down the stairs, past the bar and into the kitchen. A safety haven. Someplace where only good came out of. With a little investigation, she found Canali sleeping peacefully in the rocking chair the cook had kept. Canali had fled her room to escape the memories from resurfacing and bringing foul bile with it. Nathan had let Canali stay, since she seemed more tranquil than when he had found her ravaged and bloody; bruised and battered. Worry coursed through him, though, when Canali refused to move for the next week and seemed to zone in and out of reality. "Canali, honey, please. Talk to me. Say something. Anything," he pleaded, rough voice raw from a sharp blade of worry. Canali's dull grey eyes focused for a moment, only a flicker to show she had heard him. And ignored his command. The fourteen year old cringed away from his touch when he tried to place a hand on her knee. She was filthy. No cleaner than a stray mutt on the streets. The.. The beast's touch had ruined any chance of her being clean. When Canali was forced to take a bath, she scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin until it was red with irritation. She just wanted the dirt and grime to go away. Wanted to stop feeling his calloused hands running over her skin. No tears were shed from Canali's storm colored eyes. She refused to waste precious tears on a man who took without thinking. Even when the inn keeper's wife had cleaned the nasty wound on her cheek from where the man had punched her, Canali didn't show the pain. No. For some strange reason, all the pain had stopped after the first harsh stroke and the breaking of her maidenhead. A week later, Canali had yet to feel the pain. Every so often, flickers of it would steal through her and take her breath with it, but Canali didn't cry. Wouldn't cry. "Canali, honey, please…" Idly, she aware of the moisture in her eyes, threatening to overflow. It seemed as though her feelings were thousands of miles away, bottled tightly inside. Feeling herself look around, Canali wondered how many bells had passed since she first sat here. A couple? A dozen? More? Nathan, her father, had a beard instead of loose stubble. Days. She had been sitting there days. How long? When Canali went to talk, the words wouldn't come out and she shut her mouth with a soft click. Canali didn't try again, but a lone tear dripped down her cheek. Though she wanted to stay in the chair for an extended period of time, Nathan forced Canali to move inns. He didn't have enough money to pay for the length of time they had already stayed. Canali didn't speak again for almost three weeks. It was only at the last possible second when Canali spotted the dark skinned man over the shoulder of the abuser. Pain filled Canali's grey eyes, practically flooded from them like a broken reservoir. A silent tear dripped down her pale cheek, glinting in the sunlight. Her cheek was bright red and beginning to bruise where the man had slapped her. Even through this, Canali focused on Eridanus. On his skin tone. Nasib had had that shade of skin, the dark bronze coloring. Perhaps this man was of the same race? Perhaps he had known Menill? It was doubtful and a long-shot, but all Canali had to hold onto as hope. Otherwise it would slip between searching fingers and fall into oblivion.

[Eridanus]

Eri looked at the woman who had her eyes shut, and he decided that it would not be very nice to stay. The couple seemed quite busy in their fumbling and did not notice, and so he would leave them to their own bliss. He began to walk away, but just before he left he caught the gaze of the woman, a single tear rolling down her cheeks from eyes that spoke of hidden sorrow and pain. It was then that he noticed that her cheeks were red from injury and not from embarrassment or pleasure, his eyes followed the path of the tear and before it crossed the length of her face his decision was made.

He stared back into her eyes, trying to mentally tell her that everything would be fine, trying to channel waves of reassurance to her, but his main focus was focusing deep within himself, calling out the raw djed streams that swirled around his astral body. He gradually brought up the maelstrom of energy into his upper torso, his upper body strength increasing as he felt himself feeling stronger than he possibly could. He felt confident. He felt unbeatable. He felt invulnerable. He gave her an imperceptible nod, and with his augmented strength he grabbed the man from behind by his shirt and threw him in the other direction, the surprised rapist crashing into the wall opposite.

Eri quickly turned around to face the man, and as his opponent recovered he tried to get his bearings, looking around to see what happened. His gaze landed on the vantha, and it became one of hatred for suddenly and violently interrupting his sweet, sweet love-making. It was the kind of gaze that Eri was used to getting, and he remained unfazed, giving a mocking smirk.

"It's not nice to force yourself on others dude," Eri remarked casually, eliciting a stronger gaze of hatred from the man. If looks could kill Eri would be quite dead right now. Not just dead, but probably dead, dusted as a ghost, and having his dusts voided into oblivion to be consumed by some unknown monstrosity that lay in the cold depths of the void.

Eri's opponent roared with anger and began to rush towards him, causing the vantha to run back to where he was originally squatting, effortlessly leaping over the box of junk to return to his spot. He made a show of looking behind him and back at the man, leading the man to realize that it was a dead-end. With a look of satisfaction, the man pulled out a wicked-looking kukri from somewhere within his robes, advancing on the vantha who was looking like appropriately scared, never-mind he had two long swords jutting out of his shoulder.

The man was beetroot with rage and had his mind focused only on destroying this interloper before resuming his tender loving care to his favourite wench. Eri backed away with a nervous expression until his back hit the wall, and he smiled weakly to his opponent, "Peace?"

The rapist did not answer, but brandished his kukri menacingly, a malicious smile on his visage as he approached, kicking away the box of junk that served as the vantha's cover earlier. Eri sighed, and suddenly his expression changed from one of nervousness to one of savage triumph as his eyes flashed a few colours brilliantly before settling on a startling maroon.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," He muttered off-handedly, and when the man came closer he settled into position, ready for a dash as he enunciated quite cleary, "Bob." What happened next happened so suddenly in a flash of confusion that even Eri was not sure of the exact sequence of events, but what he did knew was that there was a noticeable crack in the air that made it seem louder because of the echo of the narrow walls. There was a flash of brilliance from the glyph that the man had unknowingly stepped over as his pants was set alight by the magical flame stored within. Several more popping sounds were heard as the stone floor developed further cracks throughout the glyph as the sigils were consumed after being used.

The man's eyes in surprise as he felt a burning sensation in his crotch, and when smoke and the smell of burning fabric reached his nose he truly understood the situation. Before he could howl in pain, Eri leapt forward, and with his unnatural strength he chopped the man's forearm, causing him to drop his sharp weapon in pain. He slammed another punch into his gut, and followed with a high-powered elbow downwards, driving the man on the floor. It was not his unarmed techniques that were effective, for the man was busy trying to divide his attention between his burning pants and the melee assault. No, it was his flux-enhanced strength that did the job considerably well, and though he could slowly feel his djed draining away there was a sort of vicious confidence and satisfaction he garnered from defeating his opponent.

The fire was beginning to burn out, but the man whimpered as he tried to pat out the flames that was scorching his nether regions, made worse by the sudden injuries that he obtained from Eri's debilitating strikes. Eri calmed down the adrenaline that was threatening to urge him to indulge more in his savage control over a weaker person, his mind working quickly to dissipate the gathered djed in his upper torso, releasing the streams to their natural paths in the rest of his astral body.

He calmly aimed a snap-kick at the man's head, knocking him backwards as he strode over to the woman, making sure to keep an eye on the man in the event of a counter attack.

"You alright, miss? Anything I can do for you?" He gently prompted the woman who seemed to be lost in some sort of shock. He tried to wake her from her reverie, but taking care not to make any physical contact. His mortal instincts - or human empathy, as those scholars would call it - warned him against such a move to avoid pushing her further into trauma, and he patiently waited while he tried to establish eye contact with her just like he did earlier, but frequently tilting his head to see that the man was still trying to recover from the attack.