"Tunare ... what have I done?"
Her dreams were polluted, swirling with dark colours like blood dripping into a clear and pristine pool of water. She saw thorns, bursting from the earth under bare feet like furious caltrops and cracking the protective bowl of the sacred water. The cool liquid turned a fiery red, pulsed with its own heathen life with a great swell of power and for all she could do, her screams had no voice, her limbs no will. Frustration tore at her heart, tears stormed down her cheeks and she'd watched like a broken doll until her eyes were bled dry of misery and stared sightlessly into the void. By all the gods, she could do nothing to stop it... and it was all her fault.
The images swirled in her mind, confusion threading through her thoughts as rationale tried to step in and take the reigns. What had she done? What was this punishment she was doomed to, watching the destruction of something pure and perfect... something she'd devoted her life and love to protect ... wrought pain and anguish by her own delicate hands. There was something nagging at her conscience, clawing it's way to the surface with jagged nails. Her chest was tight, tears burned underneath her closed eyes and she shifted on the soft pelt of grass where her husband had left her.
Oh gods... Gules!
The dawning of realization flicked her ginger lashes open, evaporating any guise of sleep she'd been under. Her slender arm had made a pillow for her head, and the vibrant blades of grass swam up before her eyes, a tiny jungle of life vying for every morself, every breath. Plush lips parted, sucking in a soft gasp as emerald eyes focused on an ant had scaled a skyscraper blade of grass, intent on the tender delight of an aphid meandering on its tip. Pointed ears caught the rustle of the leaves overhead, sheltering grove causing motes of sunlight to dance over her reclining form. It also caught something else, something that was beyond normal. The young druidess sensed it before she heard it, a missplaced footstep crunching the grass.
It could have been anything, they weren't far from the druid's port into the Twilight sea. Anyone could have happened upon her sleeping in the grass, but instinct told her it was something different. Her ears twitched, trying to find the source without giving away that she was awake, but there was nothing to hear. Closing her eyes, she breathed a soft sigh of relief, allowing her body to relax again and chastizing her imagination for causing such a fright. However, when she opened her eyes again, the motes of sunlight were blocked out by a slender shadow, made bulky by a full set of armor.
Ally never had the chance to scream...
Pain ... It throbbed to life, pulsing underneath the nape of her skull and to every nerve ending to flash brutally the truth that she was still alive. The scenery flew by, too fast for her to catch any sort of landmark or discern her whereabouts. The rhythmic pounding of hooves churned the earth underneath and rocked her against the cold metal of the armored kidnapper. One arm was securely locked around her ribcage and held her so bruisingly close it was almost impossible to breathe. Focus blurred and her body rebelled, her head spinning despite the sparks of coherant thought that pushed into her mind. She knew well that Gules was trying to reach her, and her with her mind swimming with pain, she could not respond. Blackness boiled up before her eyes and she was lost to the world once again.
Moments later, she woke with a pained cry, Gules's mind prying hers open like a crowbar to a crate and shattering the peace of absolute darkness to plunge her back into the agony of her capture. A leathered hand clamped over her open mouth, slamming her already aching skull against the armored plating of her captor's shoulder. She didn't dare open her eyes, feeling the sun's heat on her face, it would only incur more agony. Earthsoaked leather underneath her nose gave away the identity, however. Kindred! His rough cheek was pressed to hers, corded muscles tightening around her as cracked lips grazed her sensative ear and sent waves of revulsion through her. His words were spoken in her native tongue, cementing her suspicions that she'd been stolen by one of her own kind.
"Make no sound, struggle not.. or you will be certain to regret it, as will your unborn.. " His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, the point of a blade digging into the leathers barely covering the still flat area of her of her belly to punctuate his deadly promise. A warm trickle bled into the leather and skirted the length of the blade, a tear daring to slip down her cheek to splatter into a dark circle on the assailant's glove, but Ally made no further sound. Pain struck up it's cacaphony and she was once again blessed by a world of nothingness, where the pain could not reach her.
Alluriel woke again in the cool of the Faydark. She could feel the presence of the ancient trees, knew the smells and the pulse of Tunare all around them. The pain had ebbed somewhat, and it took every ounce of her will not to spill the contents of her belly as the Faydark spun around her eyes. Blinking back the disorientation, she focused on the trees around her, searching for recognition in a glade that she'd never known. Confused, her brow furrowed and she was rewarded by a sharp twinge telling her not to do that again. The elf behind her dismounted, dragging her from the saddle easily with his one armed hold that nearly crushed her delicate ribcage. Her feet swung off the ground as she was held, the elf silent and waiting, before figures materialized from the gloom.
One figure she recognized from Kelethin, as the vocally liberal Vallon Woodshadow, who often spoke out against the evils of the city plaguing Tunare and destroying Her land. Ally had often listened to his earlier talks, and tried to make sense of it with her father, finding her own emotions conflicted and leaning towards his radical action. Her father's reaction was indulgent humor then sent her to her room with the admonition that she had no idea of what she spoke about. Tunare's connection to the Faydark was failing, yes... but there had to have been less extreme means to an end. Vallon had no such compunctions for conservative behaviour, no governing will that kept him from stepping over the thin red line of ethics.
He was flanked by guards, stern and rugged, as they blended from the forests as if grown from Tunare's land than from elven parents. Vallon said nothing, dark eyes coldly aloof as he reguarded her with absolute disdain, the product of everything he despised in the world. The fanatical gleam in those eyes made Ally shiver. At his side, appearing from a distortion of space, wavering like a mirage on the hot sands of Ro, came the rigid form of Vallon's prized Seer. Elvish mothers told frightening tales of this witch to keep their children obediant and Ally's was no exception. Her heart pounded in her chest at a sharp staccatto, fear raging through her at a stampede's pace as this abomination became corporeal and moved closer to where she was being held.
Long, flyaway strands of steel-grey hair swirled about her leathery face that was drawn and puckered. Standing stock straight, she seemed to glide rather than walk, bare feet making no sound over the forest floor. Somehow she seemed longer than any thing Ally had ever seen, longer of limbs, spindly fingers ... long features and exaggerated pointed ears, as if the powers that be stretched her to accomodate her unique gifts. Blind eyes stared unerringly at her with milky white orbs, and a hand lifted to place spidery fingertips over her racing pulse.
Stoicly calm and properly defiant, Ally's resolve was shattered by the spider tickle tracing her flesh and she struggled against the hold in a panic. Her eyes were wide, tear filled and fear had snatched the voice from her throat, leaving her to cry silently to a goddess she wasn't sure could hear her. Undaunted by her reaction, the Seer moved her slim hand expressionlessly over the curve of her breast and over the steel plating of an armored limb holding her secure. Finally, she landed on the patch of leather crusted with blood from a single, threatening puncture. The Seer clucked her tongue, hissing breath coming through her teeth as her hand flattened over the spot.
The feeling was impossible to describe as anything but invasive, and Ally futilely twisted and writhed in the iron grip to get away from her. Choking on a sob, she wrenched herself in his arms, determined to get away or die trying from the horror in front of her. Said horror lifted her milky white eyes, lips curling back from stained teeth in a snarl and her other hand was slapped against her forehead. If she thought she knew pain before, the agony she felt was of no comparison. Finding her voice again, the trees rang with her screams until the darkness came again and she thanked Tunare for the peace of unconsciousness.
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