Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

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While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Victor Lark on May 21st, 2011, 4:51 am

Spring 28, 511

The coins shone like golden water in the light of the late afternoon sun. Victor could not even guess at how many she held, not to mention how many still remained in the bag. “Where did you get so much money?” He exclaimed candidly, mouth hanging. What would she do with so much money?

He moved to his trunk, which he had set to the side of the small cave when the Kelvic had first proclaimed that she had something to show him. It took him a moment to compose himself as he crouched there. Then he looked up at her. “You shouldn’t leave it out in the open, Sophie,” he chastised, “Let me keep it safe for you. It’s as safe as it’ll ever be down here, but at least a passing stranger won’t see it.” He said it as if he actually suspected there to be some other intelligent person in this wilderness, one that lacked the curiosity to investigate an abandoned box with valuable hinges. She said that this was a good place to hide things, so it would be safe while they were out, surviving.

The gold was thrilling, but irrelevant to the present and near future. He stood. In his right hand he gripped his dagger, its black leather handle worn from days of being held. His sweating fingers stretched for a moment in a wave of anticipation. He returned the topic to its original focus. “So where shall we go?” He said, bouncing between his heels the balls of his feet. He glanced out towards the world. “You know better than I do where to find anything good.”

And suddenly the blade rose playfully towards her, perhaps too quickly and too close to her face. He laughed and brought it back to his side in a single, swift movement. “What if we killed something big! A deer!” He paused, then added with a mocking eyebrow escaping into his too-long hair, “You can kill a deer, right?”
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Sophia on May 23rd, 2011, 12:24 am

The past few days spent with Victor had been bliss to her. Before she had been far more mindless, working purely on instinct and the small snippets of thought that came to her occasionally, making her a greater hunter than any of the other creatures back in the Everstone Forest. Her territory had even expanded to at least two times to what she had originally carved out due to the increased amount of intelligence she possessed as opposed to other hunters. But that was back when hunting and territory were the only things that were important.

Now, however, the only important thing happening was this man who had wandered onto her territory. He was the first intelligent being whom she had had contact with for half her life. And, though she did not know the reason or even what it was, he had become her bondmate. The first thing Sophia had done for him that he had praised her for had brought such pleasure, such satisfaction that all her previous misery and loneliness had melted away at that instant. Since then she had taken every opportunity to do whatever he wished whenever he wished, just to get another taste of that feeling.

One day she approached him in human form, wearing the too large clothes he had given her, and asked him to go with her. Sophia had recently remembered about a stash she had in her den. A while before any of this had happened and not long after she had fled into the wild she came across a dead merchant. His flesh had already been devoured, and it looked like he had been there for quite some time. But in his hands he clutched a heavy bag, filled to the brim with curious little things that shone in the light. They were pleasing to look at, and the way he held them made them seem important, so she had collected them and dropped them off into the small cave she had claimed as her den, only to forget completely about them until just now. From the look on his face it seemed that he was amazed, which the kelvic decided was a good thing.

"I found it." She said simply. She was still getting used to speaking, but more over was more afraid of saying something that would potentially offend him. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but all Sophia thought of was that if she did something he did not like and left, she would be devastated and alone once more.

He spoke of keeping the shiny things for safety. She did not care much for them anymore, and if he wanted them then all the better. She simply nodded and smiled up at him happily.

And then the dagger flashed close to her, completely unexpected. She gasped and fell back onto her hands, startled by the movement. But Victor laughed and she tried to laugh along, but could only smile weakly. His vigor for wishing to kill a deer then was almost equally startling.

The last time she had tried to take on a deer did not end so well. She had targeted a small doe, like usual, and had crept up upon it. However, she did not see the stag who had noticed her, and was running dangerously up to her to defend his mate. She had gotten away with her life, but the wound the stag had given her with his fearsome horns had gone deep. It took her weeks to heal, which in the meantime she could only devour bugs and other living things that crawled too close to her den. Since then she had not attempted to hunt deer again.

But Victor seemed eager, and Sophia did not want to even dare to disappoint him. Looking up at him with large green eyes she nodded.
Come! let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung!
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A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Victor Lark on May 23rd, 2011, 4:19 am

In the passing days, Victor had learned a few interesting things about his new friend. Where ever he went, she would follow; whatever he asked of her, she would do; and however he abused her, she would remain at his side. The boy was not strong or particularly violent, no. Every scar on her beautiful skin was from days long passed, days when he did not know her and she did not know humanity. But he was fond of playing games, and the games he played were often at her expense.

She remained mostly quiet in those minutes, as she usually did. Victor did not mind it. He liked to talk, and he thought it a pleasant challenge to try and read her pretty eyes for a reaction. Unlike most, Victor found it almost impossible to decipher the subtler expressions of the face. The rise of fear that sparked in her at the point of his blade thrilled and satisfied his thirst for human emotion.

He stepped forward and held out his empty hand to help her to her feet, offering an obligatory smile of consolation. Then he turned his gaze towards the wilderness again, trying not to let her see his uncertainty. He would lead for now, and when she saw something to kill, perhaps she would take over. With his hand still lingering on hers, he stepped out of the small cave and into the light, tripping nimbly over the small slope to the gravelly soil below. Then he glanced in all directions and arbitrarily chose to turn left, with the sun on their right.

“Is there something you would rather catch than deer?” He said idly, unconcerned with stealth for the moment, “Something tastier, maybe?”

No. That was not enough. She would nod, and exclaim some single answer. Presently he halted and turned around, facing her so that she might stop, too. He flipped his toy into the air and, when he realized he would not catch it by the hilt, begrudgingly let it fall to the ground. He bent to pick it up and flourished it at her again, though this time not quite as close. “I want to know you, Sophie,” he said, “Tell me about you. What are you afraid of?”
Last edited by Victor Lark on May 28th, 2011, 1:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Sophia on May 27th, 2011, 9:28 pm

The man's games were cruel, true, but not nearly cruel enough that Sophia suspected anything was amiss with him. Victor may have treated her poorly, but from what the Kelvic remembered of living within the borders of Sylria no one treated her very well. This was due to that she had never traveled far beyond her own neighborhood for the most part, and those around her knew her race and constantly tried to take advantage. Therefore the little games that tormented the poor girl did not drive her away, despite the constant fear she held of Victor. It was a terrible strain upon her bestial mind.

She took his hand in gratitude. He usually did this, tormented her and then did something to apologize for it afterwards. Sophia said nothing as she rose, only stared at the man patiently. And as he had expected, she did nothing but nod to his question, hiding her joy and the possibility of not having to face the creature that she had associated with one of the worst times in her short life.

She did not expect him to whirl around at that moment, idly toying with the dangerous weapon. His eyes demanded an answer to his question, but Sophia did not know what to say. She bit her lower lip, turned her gaze to the side and murmured an answer.

"I don't wish to be alone again." Was what she said, "I don't think that I could bear it anymore."
Come! let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung!
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A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Victor Lark on May 30th, 2011, 1:18 am

What an answer. Victor’s eyebrows rose, happy to discover such a valuable piece of information. He flipped the dagger around so that the blade faced behind, no longer a threat. His feet stepped lightly towards her, cautious, gentle, his free palm exposed in the subtlest gesture of kindness he could imagine. Then he hugged her, holding her head, the way he had seen men hold his mother. “You’re in luck then,” he replied, “Because I will not leave you.”

In some ways, his fears were similar to hers; he thrived on interaction. Even the frustrations from a sensible and unyielding personality were more entertaining than loneliness. Victor knew himself and he knew who he was. He was no fun. She, however, was a perfect specimen, a diamond in the rough. Virtually untouched by the world, she was unlike anyone he had ever met. He loved that.

“What else, though?” Without quite enough compassion in the segue, he pulled away from her and held her arms a moment. “About you. Your history. People like you aren’t born in the wilds.” His hands finally fell back to his side then, careful not to scrape her with the blade that still remained in his grip. He turned and walked forward, slow enough that she move to could lead him but fast enough that she would not walk beside him without a little effort. “I’ll tell you about me if you tell me about you. A fact for a fact. And, in the mean-time, keep a lookout for something to kill. You did promise me a hunt!”

Perhaps he was speaking too loudly, or looking too imprecisely. He knew about tracking and hunting and keeping quiet and all, but he supposed he would hush if she had the gall to ask it of him. Certainly she would, if it meant a meal for the both of them...
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Sophia on June 2nd, 2011, 4:51 am

Sophia stared up at him as he stepped forward, unsure of herself and wanting to flee but at the same time frozen to the spot. And then he embraced her, he embraced her and she stood there barely aware of what was happening. The feeling was tender, loving on her part. She had a flash of her mother doing the same when she was just a youngling, a kitten as one might say, and it brought an overwhelming sense of protection and calmness. She did not want it to end.

She simply nodded to him, smiling wide with the warm feeling still washed over her. And as the usual had become, when he started walking she did as well, ever so slightly behind him as much as that he could see her still, but she was not equal with him. He asked questions, and when Victor asked questions he demanded answers. Keeping her senses alert for the inevitable hunt that would ensue, she began to speak in careful sentences.

"I was chased here from a place with many people. I lived with my Mama and Papa there. Was happy. Safe. I left then... angry. Angry at my Mama and Papa. I was outside, and bad men took me. There were so many sad people. Dirty. Afraid. But I changed! Changed and got free. Left the bad men who wouldn't let me leave. Stayed changed and ran on fours to here. Have been here since." She said slowly.
Come! let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung!
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Victor Lark on June 5th, 2011, 12:17 am

He looked at his feet as she explained, keeping an eye on the terrain. But his ears watched her words thoughtfully, trying to decipher them as best he could. A few seconds of silence settled between them, waiting for Victor to come up with some understanding. Then he replied, “I’ve seen those bad men, I think. They live in Ravok, my home. Have you heard of Ravok? They're called slavers and they scoop up people like us, who cannot defend themselves, and they sell them to other bad men who make you cook and clean and do... other things. You’re lucky you got out of that. We’ll be lucky if we don’t meet them again.” The highs and lows of his voice were inflated and almost sarcastic, but he did not look back at her to let her see in his eyes whether he spoke seriously. There was clear incredulity in his voice, though, when he added, “You think you could escape twice in a lifetime?”

In truth, Victor was not as fearful of the prospect as he should have been. He assumed that, because of their proximity to his native city, any slavers which overcame his defenses would take them to Ravok, where he could easily use his heritage to earn his freedom again. He said it for the same reason he said anything nowadays: to see how she would react. He kept his gaze forward despite how much he wanted to turn around, preferring to keep moving. His fingers itched to practice a hunt and kill.

“Where did you live before, though?” He asked, complimenting the fear-mongering with a healthy distraction, “Where you abandoned your parents? It wasn’t Ravok, was it?” A beat. “And hey! You did not ask me any questions. Fair is fair, Sophie. A fact for a fact.”
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Sophia on June 5th, 2011, 7:22 pm

The Kelvic listened in earnest as he told her of the 'slavers' and what they do. Yes, it did indeed sound what she had almost been through. The other captured ones had seemed to know more of what she did, and had all been adorned in collars. She shuddered to think of what might have happened had she not made her timely escape.

Her eyes glazed over with fear at the prospect of meeting them again. Sophia was not sure if she would be able to escape if they did end up finding. She had only managed to kill one, and that was by surprise. She was not a fighter, but a hunter. One who kills prey silently and swiftly. If there were more than one surrounding her and aware of her presence, chances are she would run. And so she survived.

She was grateful for the minor subject change away from the terror of the slavers. Where she came from posed some thought however. She could not remember what they called the place.

"Ra...vok?" She said out loud, trying to see if it sounded familiar. It didn't. "No, that wasn't it. I'm sorry. Can't remember." Sophia stated with a frown.

"But I learned a fact about you." She said in response to his demand for a question about him. "You come from Raaavok." Even she could tell, however, that this would probably not satisfy him. And yet she could not think of any questions for the man. As she was thinking, a strange odor wafted itself upon the wind to her attuned nostrils. It was heavy, mangy. One that she usually tried to avoid. They were headed right for them though. And suddenly she had a question.

"Can you hide?" She said, already pulling off the borrowed clothes in preparation for her transformation.
Come! let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung!
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A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Victor Lark on June 6th, 2011, 3:45 am

He did not reply to her directly, only slightly disappointed that she had not asked him to speak more of himself. But before he could continue on about some other trivial thing, she found a question after all. It was not the sort of question he had hoped for, but it would suffice. He smiled and turned around to her to answer proudly, but as he took a few steps backward, his expression faltered. Her nose was active, bent towards the air. “I can hide, yes,” he said. The end of the statement rose in query. For a moment he was concerned, but then he remembered their purpose and delight rose onto his face.

He caught the clothes as she tossed them, happy to see such conviction in her otherwise meek demeanor. “What did you find?” He asked, whispering loudly, “Is it a deer?”

Then he realized the hidden command in the question. Victor’s head turned quickly, scouring the surroundings for an appropriate spot. He found a rock, one of many, and waved her towards his discovery as he escaped behind it. He assumed she would follow, if not because of her preferred method of hunting then because it was what she did. Whether or not she fulfilled his expectations, he would ask, “Where are you from, then? Nyka? Syliras? Perhaps the wild cities of Taldera?” There was a fact about her he did not know and he itched to fulfill that knowledge. The inappropriateness of the conversation had not quite dawned on him. He continued, “None of those places are as dangerous as here, if you don't want to become a slave again!”
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Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

Postby Sophia on June 9th, 2011, 3:53 am

There was no more mistaking it. A pack was headed their way. But why? Not only was this her territory, but the wolves normally refused to go down any where near the Everstone forest because of the lack of large game and the population of the bestial portion of her race. They didn't ever figure that it was worth the risk.

Perhaps prey was scarce in their territory, and thus were on the move. Either way, the situation was quickly becoming more deadly as more and more the scent grew. They could run, but they would quickly be over taken. They could not hide either, for they stank more than the wind could hide from the canines' adept noses. If Sophia were alone she would probably be able to climb a tree or rock or even possibly run away in her cougar form, but now that her bondmate was with her that was no longer an option. No, they would have to fight.

Sophia's face became feral as Victor continued on, though she was ignoring him. He was asking more questions, but the kelvic had delved back into her animalistic nature and hunched over slightly, a small growl raised in her throat.

"Bad things, they come this way." She said, struggling to find the correct word for the wolves. "Big... dogs. Sharp and angry. There's many of them and they come this way. Hide. I am going to try to make them leave."
Come! let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung!
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young
A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
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