![Image](http://i.imgur.com/MUtbkJN.png)
60, Fall 519 AV
Baelin wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. The woman rattled as she danced, bones clinking off each other in a macabre display of festivity. The dried skull of some large animal―an ox maybe, Baelin wasn’t sure―balanced precariously on her head, wobbling to and fro as she moved. She’d sway to the left and the skull would tip over to her right. Her sight was likely occluded, but the woman didn’t let that stop her as she lurched every which way, undeterred in her odd medley of a dance.
“Get down from there!” Someone shouted at her. A crowd had assembled around the Gallows to gawk at the bizarre display, and while most seemed to take amusement with the break from their norm, there were a few that seemed genuinely upset at the bone-clad woman dancing upon the Gallows.
It was a good time to leave. With the crowd gaining size and volume, the space was quickly becoming a hotbed for something to go wrong.
But something about the woman felt so… so… Baelin didn’t know what he was feeling. But it was something deep. Something moving. Something that made him both want to flee as well as dance with her. I have no bones to rattle, he caught himself thinking. Which was so absurdly outrageous that he immediately was annoyed at himself for even coming up with the thought.
And still she danced. Prancing over the scorched Gallows in a way that seemed to have no pattern nor rhythm. She would thrust her leg up in the air, a dangling rib bone bouncing off what looked like a shoulder blade. Her arm would jerk in the opposite direction, flinging tethered finger bones out like fringes. And all the while, the skull would bobble on her head.
Someone moved from the crowd and began to climb up on the Gallows. His intent was likely little more than to get her down, but it was like a string snapped in Baelin. Before he even knew what he was doing, Baelin lunged through the crowd, shoving people out of his way in an almost fervor to get up there. The woman didn’t pause her dance, either unaware or uncaring of the two people closing in on her.
The other got there first. His hand reached out to grab her wrist. And Baelin saw red.
He lunged.
His shoulder caught the man’s belly.
They both went down, the man’s surprised grunt muffled in the rush of blood pounding in Baelin’s ears.
Once he was past the initial rush, the ability to think slowly returned to Baelin. And let him take stock of his situation: he was up on the Gallows, with a seriously ticked off Sunberthian under him, a loud crowd gathered around them, and no idea what to do. The woman was still dancing, her jangling bones a near cacophony this close, and both shouts and laughter were rising from the crowd.
He had to get out of here. He had to get the woman out of here. The thought of leaving her here to Sunberth’s whims somehow made him feel sick to his stomach. He had no idea why, but he didn’t need a reason to act on instinct. A heady blend of adrenaline and panic fueled his next moves: he grabbed her, ignored her indignant squawk, and threw her over his shoulder and ran.
Baelin wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. The woman rattled as she danced, bones clinking off each other in a macabre display of festivity. The dried skull of some large animal―an ox maybe, Baelin wasn’t sure―balanced precariously on her head, wobbling to and fro as she moved. She’d sway to the left and the skull would tip over to her right. Her sight was likely occluded, but the woman didn’t let that stop her as she lurched every which way, undeterred in her odd medley of a dance.
“Get down from there!” Someone shouted at her. A crowd had assembled around the Gallows to gawk at the bizarre display, and while most seemed to take amusement with the break from their norm, there were a few that seemed genuinely upset at the bone-clad woman dancing upon the Gallows.
It was a good time to leave. With the crowd gaining size and volume, the space was quickly becoming a hotbed for something to go wrong.
But something about the woman felt so… so… Baelin didn’t know what he was feeling. But it was something deep. Something moving. Something that made him both want to flee as well as dance with her. I have no bones to rattle, he caught himself thinking. Which was so absurdly outrageous that he immediately was annoyed at himself for even coming up with the thought.
And still she danced. Prancing over the scorched Gallows in a way that seemed to have no pattern nor rhythm. She would thrust her leg up in the air, a dangling rib bone bouncing off what looked like a shoulder blade. Her arm would jerk in the opposite direction, flinging tethered finger bones out like fringes. And all the while, the skull would bobble on her head.
Someone moved from the crowd and began to climb up on the Gallows. His intent was likely little more than to get her down, but it was like a string snapped in Baelin. Before he even knew what he was doing, Baelin lunged through the crowd, shoving people out of his way in an almost fervor to get up there. The woman didn’t pause her dance, either unaware or uncaring of the two people closing in on her.
The other got there first. His hand reached out to grab her wrist. And Baelin saw red.
He lunged.
His shoulder caught the man’s belly.
They both went down, the man’s surprised grunt muffled in the rush of blood pounding in Baelin’s ears.
Once he was past the initial rush, the ability to think slowly returned to Baelin. And let him take stock of his situation: he was up on the Gallows, with a seriously ticked off Sunberthian under him, a loud crowd gathered around them, and no idea what to do. The woman was still dancing, her jangling bones a near cacophony this close, and both shouts and laughter were rising from the crowd.
He had to get out of here. He had to get the woman out of here. The thought of leaving her here to Sunberth’s whims somehow made him feel sick to his stomach. He had no idea why, but he didn’t need a reason to act on instinct. A heady blend of adrenaline and panic fueled his next moves: he grabbed her, ignored her indignant squawk, and threw her over his shoulder and ran.
WC: 565