ÐÏࡱáÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿýÿÿÿþÿÿÿþÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿRÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿng, anything.
She fought
for the chance, small as it was, that she wouldn't survive.
That way, she
could say she hadn't given up...at least to herself.
Blood flowed thick and hot between the two bestial fighters.
Tooth and claw
making their mark several times. An unholy glee sparkled within
Flame's
emerald eyes, a reflection of the deadly apathy she carried
inside. When one
does not care, it takes much for self preservation to kick in.
Fighting with
no technique, she went with instinct only, it was really easier
that way.
It was over too quickly, the other forced to run. With a roar,
she melded
away, angry at the other, at Thistle, at Storm, and with
herself...for trying
to believe that anything could silence a heart pounding out an
empty beat.
è]]( At one time Flame would have thought the life she lead now to
be the ideal
one. She slept till sunrise, worked out, hunted, spent the rest
of the day
doing whatever small thing caught her fancy, then slept when she
was tired.
In many ways it was ideal...there was just two problems...and
they were still
trapped within the boundaries of that accursed Shi'kul Lyeaz.
The Beach House
echoed achingly without them too.
Days and nights blurred together in an ever increasingly
monotonous
desperation. Each morning she would send her wish with the sun
across the
sky, hoping they would see it. And each night she closed her
eyes knowing
that they hadn't. Visions of tragedy haunted her nights, and at
times she
felt the effort to sleep more work than help.
Warrior tried to remain optimistic, dutifully hunting and
eating each day, to
rebuild a body ravaged by sickness. But soon her actions became
merely
motions of an automaton, for the sake of survival, nothing more.
The more her
bed remained half empty, the more she became convinced that it
would remain
so, and that it would just be better for it to be empty
altogether.
Only not knowing for sure stayed her hand. If there was still
a chance,
minute as it may be, that Thistle still lived, then she would
wait at the
House, prepared for any reception she could imagine.
Becoming more and more like a caged animal, Flame sought refuge
in a place of
light and smoke, laughter and drink. She hoped that the sights
and sounds
would fill her head enough that her heart could not be heard,
even if for only
that short while. The door opened, and she knew the error of
her logic.
Friend and stranger alike stared at the haggard visage of the
elder
Quickning, noting the hollow cheeks, the cinched belt, the black
rimmed eyes.
Her clothing hung from her a bit, rich browns and neutral tans
that she
favored only showing off how wane she had become.
Her nose searched for some hint of a fragrance remembered, and
in finding
none, Flame felt the weight of grief settle about her shoulders.
She meant to
turn and leave. She meant to go back to the Beach and return to
her routine.
She even meant to ignore the voice that called to her.
She gave a half assed hug instead.
Conversations were brief, she had no will to talk about
anything. No energy
to even argue with those she normally did. Slumped wearily at a
table she
barely remembers walking to, Flame refused again and again to
speak of
Thistle. She was afraid that once she started, she would not
stop. That she
would crumble asunder, becoming a pile of ruble fit only for
sweeping away.
Finally the voices stopped asking if they could help, stopped
offering
sympathy or the sharing of pain. She took the time to scent the
air again,
searching vainly for something, anything that held traces of
Thist. Instead
she smelled something...dead. There was a were turned leach,
and apparently
she was having a bad day. The desperation in her eyes melted
away, revealing
a savage uncaring in its place. A well placed phrase would be
all that was
needed to frenzy the other. It might feel good to frenzy...when
there was
nothing else, anger was still easy.
Perhaps a fight was in order, something to loosen the muscles,
swell the
veins with adrenaline. Or perhaps it would just give her an
excuse.
~In either case, we have a very angry, very undead drooler
after us, shall we
finish this line of thought later?~
Warrior was right, and if they were going to meet the threat,
she'd have to
give Warrior part of the body. Matching strength for strength,
the two met,
tearing and biting. Flame didn't fight to win, if she had, the
other wouldn't
have touched her. No, she fought to feel, somethiZ