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Post by Malice MacArran on Apr 22, 2012 19:34:46 GMT -6
 Malice Bronwyn MacArran was a fighter. She was a survivor. And after all of the things that had gone on in her life, she had managed to keep hold of her pride and her dignity--and her name. Of all things, she most coveted her name. She was the sole heir to the MacArran clan back up in the pagan lands. Her mother was a gypsy, sure, but her father was the MacArran back in the highlands, and she would one day claim his title. One day, when she was less angry at mankind and even more deadly than she was now as a highwayman.
It was this quality, among others, that made Malice unafraid to go places where normal men wouldn't dare, such as here in the teeth. She wasn't here for a steal; she had plenty from her previous attacks on seeminly-innocent gentry and nobles along the highways. She was here to prove herself. Here to hunt for food and survive for at least a week or two in a place where no man dared go. Beast? There couldn't be such a silly thing. The only beasts were men themselves. They raped women. Took their fruits. Men were the only villains in this world, and Malice knew it. She was a gypsy, and she could live here as long as she needed if she could just hunt. If for nothing else, she needed to prove to herself that she could one day be worthy of the MacArran.
Here she found herself, out in a clearing of tall grass where she could easily hide. Her quiver was at her back, her two shivs in her stockings, and her dagger in her belt. She even had a pistol between her breasts. Malice could face anyone and anything, so she thought. But no one was here, and Malice wondered why this place was so arresting to others. She crouched in the tall grass, listening intently for sounds, and after five minutes of nothing, laid down to stare at the overcast sky.
Eventually, not meaning to, Malice fell asleep here, in the Teeth--somewhere she probably shouldn't have been.
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Post by Darsidian on Apr 22, 2012 20:06:06 GMT -6
Darsidian rode his horse hard through the land that had become affectionately (or not so affectionately) known as the teeth. The packs on his bags were bulging with blank parchment that he received from the parchmenter. He normally wouldn't come all the way out to here for his materials, but this job was for a high-ranking nobleman and he wanted only the best materials and the parchmenters in Tyrian had high quality materials. And it wasn't as if he actually cared about the politics of the realm.
The hoofbeats of the horse echoed loudly off the stone as Darsidian raced through the pass. His meeting with the man had gone far longer than he had intended it to go. As such, he lacked faith that he would make it back to Sol before night fell, which meant he would have to find a place to tie his horse and hope that the parchment was untouched when he returned in the morning. Perhaps he could press on and make it closer to his home before night fell.
This was before his horse reared up, surprised by a snake. Lost in his own thoughts, Darsidian was thrown from the saddle and hit the ground with an audible thud as his horse took off again without him. Streams of expletives came out of his mouth as he got to his feet and made a judgment. He knew the horse would take the path. If he cut through some of the wooded area of the Teeth, he might be able to intercept the horse.
He stepped into the tall grass that blocked his way and let out another expletive as his boot connected with something solid and sent him crashing to the ground again.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Apr 22, 2012 20:33:31 GMT -6
A little bad luck was all that ever seemed to follow Malice. She seemed to get herself into bad situations more often than was good for her, and that was why she was so intent on working to be a good MacArran. Highwaymen were good at what they did, and she was no exception, but Malice was tired and that got the better of her. She'd been without sleep for a good three days anyhow; how could she stay awake in such a calm place?
But she was rudely awakened by something that was hard and forceful at her side. Her eyes flew awake and before anything else she had the dagger from her belt in hand. It was darkening outside, and her eyes didn't have much adjusting to do before she saw what was above her. It was a man! She replaced the dagger to its place, hoping dearly he hadn't seen its glimmer. This time, she was going to talk her way out and seduce her way around this trespassing stranger. It was still true, clearly. The only beast was man, and this one would be no exception. Malice hated men, with a passion. One had taken her virginity. And now she swore revenge on the whole pack of them.
"Oh!" she gasped, pretending to just now see him there. He would fall for this, surely. "Scuse me, sirrah, I didn't expect any... company here." She smiled seductively. If she had to, she'd kill him. She was heartless as it were, and had killed several times in her highwayman career. She would prove well to be the MacArran one day. And this man was, right now, in her way. Malice got to her feet unsteadily to meet this stranger.
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Post by Darsidian on Apr 22, 2012 21:19:35 GMT -6
Darsidian got to his feet again and brushed himself off. He was about to take off after the horse again when a voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to the woman who had gotten to her feet. He looked vaguely confused as he took her in.
"What...what are you doing out here?" he asked. "This is no place for a nap. There are all sorts of creatures out here..." He didn't mention that the closer night came, the close he was to becoming one. Darsidian's mind was stirring with this turn of events. He had to find that horse but he didn't understand why a woman like this would be out here. His mind raced with the possibilities of why she was out in the teeth of all places.
"Why would you expect company out here?" he asked, a bit irritably. "It's the godsforsaken teeth." The seductive smile that crossed her features was not lost on him, but he was by no means interested in that at the moment. He just wanted to get the hell away from her so when the sun set, he wouldn't be tempted to come back to hunt her as the Beast. "Where's your husband? Or your brother? Or whoever it is that is probably looking for you?" The longer he stood her talking with her, the more likely it was the parchment he just bought would be lost. Yet something about her gave him pause. It was the beast's nature to alert him when he felt something off, and the beast was bristling at this woman. Why on earth would she inspire a reaction like that?
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Post by Malice MacArran on May 3, 2012 18:46:27 GMT -6
This one wasn't going to be nearly as hard as she'd thought. She had a collection of weapons on her if this didn't work right, but she didn't doubt her seductive ability. Sure, the look on the man's face was skeptical, doubting--but only for now. She'd have him on the ground in a matter of minutes, because he wanted her. He had to. Because all men did. She brushed her hair from in front of her eyes slowly and met his eyes.
"What? Oh, contraire, sirrah. It's the nicest, quietest place one could find to lay down. As for the creatures... well, I see that we two are the only creatures out here." She grinned and bit her bottom lip lavciously. Looking the man up and down, she determined that he wouldn't easily throw himself upon her, though he probably wanted to, and that he had a fair control over his choices. He didn't look like the manner of man that would be romantic and sweet--this man was hardened. But no man, Malice knew, could resist her. They all wanted one thing, and that was the reason she hated them so much.
An austere smile crossed her pale face and Malice tried to look confused. Of course no one was looking for her; she was a highwayman. But she couldn't exactly say that. "Oh, I think you're sorely mistaken. No one's looking for me but you, and I do think you've found me, sirrah." she ended this chatter with an abrupt smile, a gleam in her clever eye, and a sappy tone in her voice. He had to fall for her. Had to.
She moved toward him, not afraid because she had so much defense herself, and placed a hand on his shoulder. A scared, childlike fear crossed her face and she knew he noticed.
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Post by Darsidian on Jun 4, 2012 19:45:01 GMT -6
Darsidian’s eyes flicked to the sky as the sun was beginning to sink behind the topmost portions of the horizon. He knew he wasn’t going to find his horse before he changed, and thoughts raced through his head like angry bees. He hoped that he had had the stallion long enough that the horse would return to his home, or at least the general vicinity. Perhaps the beast would be more easily be able to track the horse when he changed…
He winced slightly as she made mention of the only two “creatures” in the area. The beast in him was already dancing dangerously close to the surface and he hadn’t needed the reminder. “Is that the way you normally try to woo a man?” he asked, his voice tight, but not nearly as tight as his skin was feeling over his bones. The sun was sinking ever lower and he was running out of time to prevent the beast from killing an innocent, or what he assumed to be an innocent. His heightened senses caught her distinct scent, the individual colors that blended to form the unique shade of her hair…She was not an unattractive girl. At any other time of day, he might have been more inclined to talk to her, flirt with her, perhaps even take her to bed for a midday tumble, but the fact that he was noticing all of these minute details about her person was warning enough that he was too close to changing to risk getting close to her at all.
So preoccupied was he that he didn’t mark her approach until she had gotten too close. She placed a hand on his shoulder. His hand snaked out and caught her wrist, marking the fear that crossed her face a second before he had made contact with her wrist. Something about this situation screamed wrong, and it wasn’t just the beast tearing at him from within. His jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly, the pain shooting through his whole body.
“Don’t do something you’re going to regret, princess,” he said roughly, his voice already lowering to a growl. He knew she had very little chance to get away from him. He removed her hand from his shoulder and stepped back a few steps. “You have to leave—“ but that was it. His breath caught and a hand went to his chest. He was trying to give her time to leave, trying to fight the beast, but both he and the beast knew it was a losing battle.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Jun 4, 2012 21:35:19 GMT -6
Malice watched with mock fascination, noting the way that this man looked so nervewrackedly at the sky. What was he waiting for? An escape? Night? Aha, he wouldn't take her that easily, if that's what he thought. Malice was touched momentarily by a bad memory, the recollection of the one time she'd ever been violated that way by a man--once. It was why she hated all men. It was why she tricked them into thinking she wanted them and then killed them. All because of one; and maybe someday, she'd exact her revenge on that one. She observed what he did, what he said. This was a curious man, she could see, and she almost wanted to throw herself upon him to see what he would do--she simply wasn't getting to him this way. But she refrained; she didn't want to be raped again and that would be a good way to. "I don't need to woo you, sirrah. I've got you right where I want you," she cooed, intending the words to come across sensually, smoothly like the silk she was wearing. In the hand that was not on the man, she made certain that she could feel the dagger in the back of her belt. She rested her hand of the hilt, making it appear as though her hand rested behind her naturally. But she sensed something strange about this man. He seemed nervous about something. And why on earth was he so eager to see her gone? Was he married? Oh, that was no excuse. He hurt her as he grabbed her hand, but she didn't show the pain across her face. Physical pain, she could handle. It was the injuries to her pride that never healed. What? Did he know she was a highwayman? Don't do what? Shit. thought Malice. If her cover was blown, she may as well be dead. She was a fighter, sure, but this man was something wondrous strong and she feared him a bit. "Princess?" she whispered with a smirk. She should take that for a name, that'd be a laugh. No, no. She was a MacArran. But something strange was happening in the man. He caught his breath and it seemed that perhaps he was having some sort of physical attack; perhaps his heart? Lungs? What was going on? Malice tightened her grip on the dagger. "What the hell are you doing?" she managed, scared. STATUS complete TAG Darsidian ATTIRE click meh
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Post by Darsidian on Jun 4, 2012 22:00:08 GMT -6
OOC: I apologize for any discomfort caused by this post. It was awkward to write his transformation. So I did my best. I wanted to make sure that I accurately described what Malice is seeing so she has something to react to. I can change it if need be.
I've got you right where I want you...
The beast was lunging at the edge of his control. If she knew, if she was going to kill the beast, then he would go down fighting. He could feel the skin stretching tighter over his frame as the last rays of light were fading over the horizon. He noticed her hand sliding to her back, instantly on alert.
Darsidian sucked in a breath as another wave of pain hit him, sending him to his knees. His breath came in sharp pants, one hand clawing at his chest, at the skin that seemed too tight over his frame. He looked up at the woman from his knees. If she was going to kill him, now was as good a time as any. He was caught mid-transformation, his senses becoming even more acute than they were in his human form, the form over the beast all but tearing from him. If she knew, she couldn't live. Not if she would tell...but he didn't want to shed blood tonight...
"What..." he began between sharp breaths. "What the hell are you waiting for...get out of here!" He motioned with the hand not at his chest for her to leave him. He could feel claws pressing against the fabric of his tunic as they began to elongate. He could feel patches of fur as they began to break through under his sleeves, under the tunic covering his chest.
He made a hiss of pain and brought both hands slamming to the ground in front of him. They were already taking on the characteristics of the wolf. He looked up at her as his eyes took on the gold sheen of the wolf within. Shuddering, the man disappeared and a great black wolf, larger than any natural wolf, rose from where Darsidian had been kneeling only moments before. The wolf looked at Malice with a snarl. Darsidian's humanity was there only enough to prevent the wolf from coming after her if she ran, but he couldn't stop it if she tried to kill him.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Jun 5, 2012 11:38:03 GMT -6
Malice was beginning to think that perhaps she should give up on the idea of stealing from this man who was... strange. Something was going on with him, and Malice was beginning to get more and more fearful. The man before her seemed to be fighting with something, though it wasn't herself, and she had no idea what it could be. What on Earth was going on around here?
"Sirrah, I don't know..." her words were choked off as she watched him, her eyes wide and the dagger now out of her belt and securely in her hand. Now was when she wished she had a pistol.
But what was this? She had to think. She had to figure this out. As a gypsy, Malice had been taught about all the spirits that roamed in these hills, and all the fearful creatures that also resided here. Was this man one of them? She was, after all, in the Teeth, and wasn't it said that there was a--Yes! Goddamnit, this was the beast! Malice took one last look at him, now no longer a man but instead a wolf-like beast, who had warned her already to leave. That was why! Malice was too ignorant and too greedy to spare herself from fate.
But she could try. Dagger firmly held in her hand, Malice ran. She Ran until she reached a tree, tripping once along the way but getting up before she knew what had happened. She was sure the whole time that the beast was behind her, and when she got to the trunk, she began to attempt to climb, using the strong dagger to help hoist her up. But she was much too slow. She'd never climbed trees in her youth.
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Post by Darsidian on Jun 7, 2012 21:44:12 GMT -6
The beast let out a howl, almost triumphant. Darsidian had surrendered control, holding only enough control to keep him from giving chase to the woman who had pulled a knife on his host. The wolf growled, but Darsidian would not let the beast go after her. She hadn't attacked him, and that was enough for the human in him to let the offense slide tonight. The beast pawed at the ground, anxious to move, to run.
He turned his nose to the sky, trying to scent something other than the trail the girl had left behind. He could smell the trail the horse had left, but the wolf wasn't interested. Defying the wish of Darsidian to chase after the horse which held so much of his wealth in those materials, he chose to follow the girl instead. The beast had to know what this girl was going to do. He had to know that she wouldn't turn him in or he couldn't allow her to live. He loped easily after her. Four legs would always move faster than too.
He stopped a short distance bag, letting out a chuff of frustration. The girl was trying to climb a tree. He could see her using the dagger to lift herself higher into the branches. He wouldn't be able to catch her in the trees. He let out a growl and moved toward the tree. He made an attempt to catch her skirt, but his teeth clamped shut on air as she moved her foot out of his reach. He growled and paced the ground beneath the tree with frustration, looking up. He needed the assurance. He needed to know he would live.
However, the words wouldn't come in this form, so instead, he looked up at her, hoping the humanity in his eyes would ask the question that his form would not allow him.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Jul 3, 2012 9:39:48 GMT -6
There was, buried somewhere in her, an element of humanity, of the knowledge that all comes from dust and all must return to dust, that she couldn't make much of a difference on a world scale. She had been a moral being once, when she was younger, but that sweet heart had been too abruptly hardened by the wear of a year. One man had ruined her, and now she'd vowed to ruin all of mankind. Sometimes, she got back that innocent moral principle she'd had in younger days, but it went away as she remembered why she was not that little girl anymore.
It was a shame, and it hurt to be so amoral sometimes. But she always managed. As she worked her way clumsily up the tree, Malice managed to recall what a gypsy boy had once told her--that the spirits of the earth were the most fearful, because they were the most human. Humans were a dreadfully disruptive race. Malice lost her footing several times, and finally felt the beast's presence below her.
She yanked her foot out of his reach and finally found herself perched, more or less safely, in one of the branches, and out of his reach. As she looked down at him, a look of both terror and relief across her face, she saw something in his eyes--more human than wolf. She saw that they were trying to ask her something, though she had absolutely no idea--and didn't especially want to know--what he was trying to ask. She was in absolute fear of this creature, and if she had to spend the entire night up here to escape him, she would.
Then she calmed herself. She thought. If by day, this beast was again a man, she would be able to communicate by sunrise. She looked down again. In a trembling voice, "I do not know what you want of me. But... if you'll stay until sunrise you may ask in the morning. Just... please leave me be for the night. Please." she had not begged like this since... well, since the night that had made her a changed person. It was dehumanizing to plead, but if it were her life in the balance, she hadn't another choice.
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Post by Darsidian on Jul 5, 2012 17:30:25 GMT -6
The beast pawed at the dirt, growling in frustration. The bits of exposed roots were being raked by his claws. The beast did not want to wait. The beast was out for blood. He would not be endangered. The scent of her, and the scent of her fear, had been ingrained into his mind. He fed off that fear. It gave him more reason to keep his presence near her. If she was afraid of him, then he would be able to assure that she was not a threat to him.
He prowled the base of the tree, walking the circumference of it before settling directly beneath the branch she had taken to. He sat for several moments before lying down. It was not the relaxed pose of a creature at rest, but rather the ready pose of a creature on the prowl. The wolf was no more at ease than she. And though neither Darsidian nor the beast would ever admit it, they were just as scare as she was.
The ears of the wolf turned slightly as she spoke, the wolf allowing Darsidian to take in the sound and interpret the words. The wolf didn’t understand the human language, but he did understand that it was not him that the woman above them was talking to. Sunrise…sunrise… Darsidian mused on the word. Waiting until sunrise…he’d be so much more vulnerable. She’d be able to kill him…and the creatures would find his body, naked, and in all probability stabbed. But if she was just as afraid of him…maybe he could work something out with her.
The wolf let out a chuffing noise and laid his great head on his paws, the body relaxing ever so slightly. He would wait her out, wait until the morning. But no god he knew of would be able to help her if she made a move on him while he rested. He had faith she knew she wouldn’t win in a fight with a creature of his size, strength, and iron will. He got the impression she wasn’t stupid.
The beast marked time by raising his gold eyes to the sky, watching the stars move their positions in the night sky. As the dawn crept closer, he began to make soft noises of discomfort, standing and pacing beneath the limb before bounding into the tall grass as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Soft whines accompanied the transformation back to his normal form.
On his hands and knees in the tall grass, he fought the urge to empty the contents of his stomach. The whole world spun in front of him and the rays of light were like daggers through his skull. He let out a hiss of discontent. Now was the moment of truth. She had every opportunity to kill him now, at his most vulnerable.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Jul 8, 2012 17:26:21 GMT -6
Malice watched with tired eyes as the beast tread below her. She was scared out of her wits, but refused to reveal it. This was the first time in a few years that Malice had ever felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so unguarded, so human. She didn't like the feeling much; it reminded her too much of the night she kept trying to forget, when all she'd had was taken from her by a selfish human. She wished she were not human, and in fact liked to think she was something higher.
But she wasn't. The beast was her present reminder that she was mortal, weak, and scarred. If this kept up for too long, she might break down.
But as he paced below her, she noticed a certain look in his eye, again. He was still human, too, somewhere beneath that cover of fur. As he laid down below the tree, Malice knew she'd have a hard time sleeping tonight. It wasn't that she'd fall; she was actually very secure on the branch upon which she was now perched. But really, it was that there was a cold-blooded killer beneath her (though the beast could easily say something similar). She laid her head against the tree trunk and wondered if she'd ever change, or if anyone would change her. After a little while, she caught a slight drift of sleep.
But when sunlight came streaming through the trees, she awoke to see the beast bounding away from her. Where was he going? If he'd changed by night, perhaps he also changed by day. She listened for a minute before deciding to find her way down the trunk of the great tree. Before she left it, though, she took a dagger from under her skirts and slid it easily into her hair, where she could quickly grab it out of the braid.
She stalked the grass, like a predator herself, once more feeling non-human and more like a Greek goddess, whose power over the living and the dead was great. Malice made her way through the trees and out into the high grass, unsure where her beastious friend had wandered off to. What if he was lurking there beside her, waiting to kill her first? She shuddered and moved on. She couldn't think that. After a hissing sound, Malice turned to see him there--no longer the beast, but the same handsome man she'd seen before, exposed and weak.
"I--" she started, but nothing followed. What was there to say? She felt bad, here in his indecency, and a pang of guilt flashed across her face. "Sir, I mean no harm. What the hell happened?" She dropped her strong puton and sounded more like a helpless gull herself.
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Post by Darsidian on Jul 11, 2012 21:08:54 GMT -6
Darsidian coughed, nearly losing the battle to keep the contents of his stomach where they were. The light tore through his skull and he wanted to scream with the pain, but he knew that that would not help him at all. He put his hands to his eyes, trying to block out the sun. He turned his head quickly as he heard footsteps approaching, groaning as he realized too late what kind of effect it would have on his dulling senses.
He heard the woman he had been chasing as the wolf speak, though his mind was slow to understand the words. He let out a deep breath, forcing himself to look over at her, his eyes narrowed from the sun and the pain. “Why…” his voice was raspy and gravelly, as it always was when the beast had been especially vocal. He cleared his throat again, trying to make himself clearer. “Why aren’t you killing me?” he managed to grind out.
He got to his feet, his legs barely able to hold his weight and he shook terribly. “You know my secret…and I know you have that dagger on you somewhere.” He pitched forward slightly, sluggishly moving his foot forward to catch himself. He looked at her. “You saw what happened…and I need your assurance that you will tell no one of this meeting. Your word!” he demanded. He decided that as non-threatening as he was in his state of undress and his current inability to use his body to its fullest potential, he’d try another tactic.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “But I can’t guarantee that the beast won’t find you if you don’t assuage his…” Fear wasn’t the word he wanted to use. The beast feared no one and nothing. “Assuage his short-temper. I know that you wouldn’t hurt a man like me…” He was hoping the backwards charm he was using would help the situation along. “But he sensed only a threat. Now you don’t want him to think that he’s threatened, do you?” he asked, his eyes man enough, but if she looked close enough, she could see the shadow of the beast within.
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Post by Malice MacArran on Jul 11, 2012 21:59:55 GMT -6
Malice did not quite know what to think. For the first time in a few years, her conscience was pulling at her, and for once, she was beginning to feel vulnerable. Of course, she was really very easy to manipulate--a man had once proven that--but her guise as an intimidating highwayman was her coverup. She couldn't be weak. She had grown up with gypsies who thought she was just a piece of their game, and by God, she wasn't going to let herself be used again. That was really why she did this. It was for pride, to conceal her shame. She just didn't recognize that.
But with the way she was feeling now--utterly human--this man may as well have his way with her and leave her for dead out in the Teeth. She felt... sympathy. Pitied him, as she looked upon him, trying her best not to stare, for to keep his shame as subdued as she was able. Nice? What? Malice hadn't been nice to anyone in years. Not since she'd known the company of her tribe, at least. And what good had they done? They'd betrayed her.
Goddamnit, Malice, thought she. Where's your drive? You're a highwayman! No, she couldn't do it. "I--I can't. I wouldn't. I'm so sorry--I don't know what I'm saying--but I won't hurt you." She was fighting herself to be good, and her voice sounded absolutely pitiful. She wasn't that fear-inspiring highwayman anymore. There was no good reason--she'd killed a couple men and never felt the guilt of it. But for some reason, she feared this man and almost respected him. She turned her head away, ashamed of herself.
Placing the dagger back in her belt, where he could see it plainly, Malice opened her palms toward him, in an almost surrender. She was rendered slightly speechless by his request and didn't know how to answer him. But then she caught another air in his tone.A charming one. An air so damn human that she couldn't deny the stirring in her heart. "I..." she said blankly, "I'm sorry." And Malice surprised herself with her words. They seemed to come from someone or somewhere else. She never apologized. "I won't tell a soul," she swore, "if you'll tell me why you don't fear me. Why you're not intoxicated by my looks. Why... Why you haven't acted like every other man in this goddamned world." Her eyes were filled with something between awe and anger. She should be so mad at him, but her heart wouldn't allow it. She was actually on the verge of tears.
Why was he so frustrating? Even in this state of undress, he was scaring her, when it should be the other way around.
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