RP at Vrek'mar with Ashur - a photo on Flickriver

Theme: Sacrilege - Abney Park

I heard in the dark, a soft pair o' arms
under the leaves, naked shoulders
Under the moss, skinny sides.
Don't wake from your sleep.

***

Ioh was wandering about the docks looking for maybe a stray mouse, or to see if there was anything he could possibly pick up, such as some left over food or other items of cargo that the ships might have forgotten. He was in luck it would seem, since there were many wooden crates and barrels out on the dock. He scurried to the edge where the crates were, not paying much attention to anything or anyone else. Rummaging through the crates was at the fore front of his mind, and the docks looked peaceful and undisturbed of any people or seafaring traffic anywhere close for the eye to see. The first thing he came to was a barrel, which he leaned over into to peak at what may be inside when he heard the gasping and sputtering from the river. A shiver struck through his body, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, as the jolt of the surprise shot down through his spine and was shook out his tail. He soon found himself inside the barrel, keeping as still as he could, trying not to make a noise, and get some bearings about what was going on outside the barrel. He knew someone was close, but knew not why, nor how long they'd be there, and thus how long he might be in the barrel, either to be found, or to escape when no one was around.

Qu'al spluttered and gasped as she dragged herself out the river, crawling up onto the top of the pier. Water streamed from her hair and dripped from her body. She felt most undignified - it was the first thing on her mind that penetrated through the haze of pain and confusion. She coughed the last of the water from her lungs and used her clawed hands on the crates to struggle to a standing position before looking around. She was alone, or so she thought. She sighed and leaned against the crates for support. She tried flexing her foot and winced as agony flared like a jolt of lightning in her ankle. A gasp escaped her lips and she lowered her head a few moments. When she raised her head again, her expression was grim. She brushed matted strands of hair from her eyes and pushed away from the crates and stood with uncertainty. As she took another step, again she gasped and almost stumbles. Gritting her teeth, she took another step and began to make her way around the crates, teeth bared and giving out a hiss. She would not let this pain, as bad as it was, stop her. Pain was just another way that the Universe had let her know she was alive. Indeed, against the odds, she still lived. She had escaped whatever force had ripped her from her home in the planes of Chaos and the wild Chaos energies that had threatened to consume her. At the current moment she needed a relatively safe place to rest and heal so that she could get her bearings and learn more about this realm she had come to. She also needed a bath so that she coul wash the mud and river-weeds from her hair and body. Not to mention, she wanted also to cover her skin with the sumptuous, sweet-smelling oils and perfumes she loved so much, which enhanced her own natural sweet scent. She smiled a little for the first time in what seemed like days - though may have only been hours - at the thought of such luxury. A nice bath and sweetening up was something to look forward to, she thought, then took another step, and swore with a loud, angry snarl, "By the bitch-queen of Naz'kaal!" Walking was for the unwashed masses, she reasoned, and pain was for the weak, to be inflicted on victims, not to be endured by one such as herself, unless it was a counterpart to some delicious, decadent pleasure! She placed a clawed hand on the rim of the barrel the cat-kin was hiding in to steady herself and prepared to unfurl her nebulous, barely-discernible wings. The cat-kin would see the nightmarish armor on her arms that was decorated with large spikes. Her clawed hand descended toward his face, then grasped at the rim of the barrel he was in.

In the barrel, Ioh heard her gasping, coughing and swearing on the edge of the dock - something he could at that point mainly wager from hearing, if he had his bearings straight on where she was compared to where the barrel was. He also could hear her staggered walking upon the docks, but, because of her anger, was hesitant to come out to see if she needed help. When her clawed hand, and the arm with spikes on it came to the rim, he more than ever didn't want to come out of that barrel, for he knew not what she might do to him, and he had some hunch it may not be anything too nice. So, he did his best to stay still and keep quiet, even though he was shivering with fright. If she couldn't sense his fear, or didn't look down into the barrel, he just might be able to get away safely, as long as he remained patient, anyways.

Qu'al narrowed her glowing eyes. She was sure someone was watching her, and she was often right about these hunches. One might call it a magical demon-sense, or even woman's intuition. Whatever one may call it, this certain sense had saved her life more than once. Suddenly, she unfurled her dark, shadowy wings - they were barely discernible and mostly insubstantial when unused, but were deepening and darkening and gaining substance. She relished the feeling, stretching them to their full span before beating down and lifting herself effortlessly into the air.

On the outside of the barrel, Ioh hadn't much idea what was going on. But he knew enough that there was something going on. There was flapping of what sounded like sails in the wind, which made no sense, since the sailors wouldn't be back until around dusk. Plus, something was shaking the barrel, and the rim whistled like a heavy gust of wind was upon it. Suddenly, the barrel started to lift and tilt, and soon a splash as the barrel landed in the water, rim first, dumping Ioh into the river. Now he was the one making al the noise and commotion in the water. When he finally could see Qu'al, his eyes widened, and he waved his wet arms up at her, "Don't hurt me, please!"

At first, Qu'al wasn't too concerned with the toppled barrel, other than the noise it made when it splashed into the river. Casting a quick glance around she was relieved to see no-one coming to investigate. Her head snapped around toward the cries coming from a sodden, orange, something, in the water. It had fur and looked like a cat of some kind, but humanoid, and it was speaking? "Gaznath! Shaz gur ugluk-khaar, Yl'ness xizzshlek! Nyez-gazh Qúal nur Zeer-Zhuglor!" she snarled in her own tongue, sharp teeth bared, a hand going for the Chaos blade strapped to her back, the other hand suddenly glowing a deep green as energies began to crackle from her fingers. Loosely translated, it meant "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing? I'm Qu'al and I'm gonna kick yo' ass 'cuz I'm a demon and stuff!" A better translation would read: "I am Qu'al, Sister of Pain, Herald of the Abyss! Challenge me at your peril!"

***

Sacrilege, and they keep on dancing.
heretic, they spin round and round.
Blasphemy, circle round the fire
Don't wake from your sleep.

Taken on: July 18, 2015

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