Post by Sayvahn on Jan 20, 2017 23:31:54 GMT
Open to Medivha and takes place mid November.
The night tasted burnt. Incense, still clinging to Aida’s clothes seemed to dull all senses, a giddy smile, on her lips. This man was nice. Was gentle. He was not pushy, but instead, asked to make sure every little detail was fair and fine. Aida recognized him from various plays, all interested in what had to be the lead actress in all of them. Yet, at one point, he began to notice her, too. Or maybe, it was more of Aida noticed him. After all, a recurring face with hair tinted that of pine green was hard to dismiss. Though, now, with edges dulled, Aida wondered if it had been better to have dismissed the man after all.
“I don’t feel too good." The dancer confessed, leaning against an alleyway wall. The stranger paused too, but only long enough to pull her away. They had been to a bar. A bar. Yes. Drinks. dung. Did he roofy her?
“I think I’m going to go home.” The feline ander muttered, turning away even though frankly, she didn’t know where home was right then. But, any movement was futile as the man reached out.
“Stay, sweetie, stay.” He whispered, pressing her against the wall, tilting her head to expose her neck. Light traces of a kiss tugged at her collar, and Aida coughed.
“I’m going home.” She spat, and again, he grabbed at her, pulling her back. Every movement sent her head spinning. Quickly, she tried to cast health, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t tether herself down to let the magic run through her. Instead, it only felt like the toxin was getting worse.
“Get off me!” Aida hissed, hitting the back of her assailant, yet, he didn’t budge. No, instead, he pushed further, hands, seeming to ride up her dress, to her hips. She flailed some, her voice, muted as she kicked, as she slammed, movements, slow, dull, uncertain. At one point, her captive drew away, enabling for Aida to flee, but her body betrayed her. The dancer tumbled forward, hitting into garbage cans, onto bottles and glass, making any noise she could, as anything from her voice were stifled, her whole body, seeming to succumb to the toxin, to the drug. She needed someone to hear her, someone to see her, someone to help her.
The night tasted burnt. Incense, still clinging to Aida’s clothes seemed to dull all senses, a giddy smile, on her lips. This man was nice. Was gentle. He was not pushy, but instead, asked to make sure every little detail was fair and fine. Aida recognized him from various plays, all interested in what had to be the lead actress in all of them. Yet, at one point, he began to notice her, too. Or maybe, it was more of Aida noticed him. After all, a recurring face with hair tinted that of pine green was hard to dismiss. Though, now, with edges dulled, Aida wondered if it had been better to have dismissed the man after all.
“I don’t feel too good." The dancer confessed, leaning against an alleyway wall. The stranger paused too, but only long enough to pull her away. They had been to a bar. A bar. Yes. Drinks. dung. Did he roofy her?
“I think I’m going to go home.” The feline ander muttered, turning away even though frankly, she didn’t know where home was right then. But, any movement was futile as the man reached out.
“Stay, sweetie, stay.” He whispered, pressing her against the wall, tilting her head to expose her neck. Light traces of a kiss tugged at her collar, and Aida coughed.
“I’m going home.” She spat, and again, he grabbed at her, pulling her back. Every movement sent her head spinning. Quickly, she tried to cast health, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t tether herself down to let the magic run through her. Instead, it only felt like the toxin was getting worse.
“Get off me!” Aida hissed, hitting the back of her assailant, yet, he didn’t budge. No, instead, he pushed further, hands, seeming to ride up her dress, to her hips. She flailed some, her voice, muted as she kicked, as she slammed, movements, slow, dull, uncertain. At one point, her captive drew away, enabling for Aida to flee, but her body betrayed her. The dancer tumbled forward, hitting into garbage cans, onto bottles and glass, making any noise she could, as anything from her voice were stifled, her whole body, seeming to succumb to the toxin, to the drug. She needed someone to hear her, someone to see her, someone to help her.