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leon_a_darkangel rolled 2 6-sided dice:
2, 5
Total: 7 (2-12)
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
6, 6
Total: 12 (2-12)
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 Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 6:38 pm
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Oh god, the traitor. ******** Kursha. They were working in the same group even, on the same team even. All of her earlier anger boiled back to the surface, her gaze a little stern even if she wasn't outright pissed with Stryke. She still felt so troubled with that, still felt so torn. He did good for the queen, but at what cost? Her morals were always so important to her. Every time she recalled the topic, what would Sir do? would play over and over and over.
She liked to believe he stood for camaraderie. In fact, just earlier she had convinced herself that's what he would strive for; was it a trick of her mind? It wasn't like he was here to ask. She had put her faith and trust in him so blindly, but the second she became impartial to the plan... would he have left her too? Betrayed her? Hurt her? What did that feel like, she wondered, being backstabbed. She felt remorseful again.
"B-Being nice..." she remembered how she'd try to be the reason to Sir's voice, how she tried desperately to pacify him, how hard she tried, how it amounted to nothing.
"I-It... doesn't get you anywhere i-in life..." she mumbled at the realization. She had already learned this lesson a long time ago. "W-What he did was w-wrong, but... but..."
"B-But you're w-wrong too! You have to be, y-you have to..." because after all, if he was right and she were in the wrong, then what was she even fighting for? Taking orders, yes, she had no doubt about the fact that she followed orders despite her morality, but...
Wasn't it easier that way? Not thinking for yourself?
"F-Fine, b-but... don't t-try anything! I'll shoot." she answered his request, allowing him the freedom to roam to higher ground. Truth be told, Sarcel was getting tired of her own waterlogged shoes. They needed to go back to the Fronds; night wouldn't last forever.
Quote: HP: 3/20DMG DEALT: 6
AGILITY STYLE B (INVISIBILITY POWER): 0/1
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leon_a_darkangel rolled 2 6-sided dice:
1, 2
Total: 3 (2-12)
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 6:40 pm
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"it often time doesss not not get you far, but then again it has its rewards...either way, you are not wrong." Being kind over the last few sweeps had been a mixed blessing and had also gotten him in a lot of trouble. He added, the realization she very likely might not let him go occurred to him. The yellowblood felt his shoulder sag slightly, even if she'd agreed what he'd done was wrong she was still accusing him of being in the wrong. While it was true, this matter was not a matter of black and white there were grey areas that stretched far beyond the events of the last three nights. Players in a game of chest, even if some went unseen moved across the board.
It was hard to say what the outcome of this tale would result in.
"it's not wrong to follow orders, we already essstablished that. we just happen to be on two different agendas is all." He reminded her with a tense note in his voice. Frustrated he sighed as he turned away from her when she relented in their getting out of the murky water. His boots had kept his feet mostly dry but the pant legs were another story all together. As he tried to climb up the embankment he'd slipped down into during their struggling he tried climbing out but it wasn't exactly something he could do easily.
"damnit.." Pathetic. Stryke knew he must look utterly weak and foolish. He'd rather bleed to death then cry in front of her, but the p***k of tears was there as he couldn't even get himself up a stupid slope. He slid back down with a splash, sending ripples dancing across the surface. His hands groped blindly at the ground trying to steady himself, struggling all around before he finally came to rest back at the bottom. "i won't, if i wanted to i would have when the opportunity was there." Stryke added in a forlorn tone, although it wasn't like he needed to remind her. Sarcel been the one to ask him why after all. As he spoke he was already standing again, forcing himself not to appear any weaker than he was to the other.
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
2, 1
Total: 3 (2-12)
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 6:49 pm
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Something almost twinged inside of her blood pusher. She hated how she was being forced into this, watching the other troll as he struggled against the embankment. She was supposed to feel like a winner; what had happened to all of that gusto from before, when she was pursing him so fervently? Why had she felt like she lost?
Was anyone really forcing her? This was her job, this was what she was told to do, and if she failed... well, hadn't she failed before? It wasn't a new feeling by any means, and part of her knew it wouldn't be the last. It came with the territory. She was expected to fail in the long harrowing way to becoming the perfect soldier, even though she was starting to doubt she would ever get there.
It wasn't even a question of her usual self loathing. Sarcel had an inkling that no one could really be perfect.
But she could strive and try and, well, that meant not giving up.
She felt so conflicted. Between Stryke fumbling in the murk and her earlier epiphany with Zeffer's involvement, Sarcel didn't really know what to believe. Were they right, was she wrong? Were neither of them right? Were they both wrong? The thought of a life lived without purpose scared the hell out of Sarcel. There was a reason she listened and obeyed and listened. It was too stressful otherwise.
She really felt like she should have been born a lowblood most nights.
And she hated that train of thought, because this is who she was and this isn't how she was supposed to act. She needed to be strong, needed to be a staple in society, needed to be someone worth looking up to, needed to be blue.
"I-I don't understand..." she mumbled, at a loss for words, "Y-you... Z-Zeffer too..." she choked out her friends name; neither Stryke nor Zeffer were inherently bad, she was sure, she was sure. Why then were they on opposite sides?
Quote: HP: 3/20DMG DEALT: 0
AGILITY STYLE B (INVISIBILITY POWER): 0/1
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leon_a_darkangel rolled 2 6-sided dice:
2, 3
Total: 5 (2-12)
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 6:53 pm
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Stryke didn't try to climb up the muddy slope right away, he turned back to look at her as she started to speak again. The first thing out of her mouth was I don't understand...and then followed with his and Zeffer's name. She wasn't using that hardened tone on him anymore, and actually seemed like she was really debating on what to do.
It must have been awkward, she had her loyalties certainly just as much as he did. If she turned up empty handed it meant she'd have to lie. His throat squeezed at the idea he'd be putting hardship on the bluebloods shoulders, but at least she had her place in society as a higherblood...surely it would be easy enough to say in the struggle she'd lost track of him. No one but them had to know, it wasn't like he'd run to the queen herself to rat her out. The very thought would have made him laugh if he didn't feel so damn defeated and broken.
Stryke nodded in acknowledgement when he heard the familiar name. It was the closet thing he'd give her to a real confirmation her suspicions were correct. "i..am asssking you for a lot in my pleading to be set free." He leveled with her in agreement. "this all must be confusing to you i'm sure." Stryke shivered from the cold of the water. His head was dizzy from the sharp little stabs of pain, but he did his best to ignore it. Looking up the distance he'd fallen down he spied a large root from one of the trees above. Planting the weight of his good leg, he grabbed for the root and hoisted himself up. The lowblood gave another pull at a root, as he took a shaking step. It actually helped with the slow going and made it possible to climb up the muddy embankment.
Panting, and still out of breathe he looked back to her still standing nearly to her calf's in the murky water. He'd been in waist deep by comparison, still the thought of a swamp beast leaping out and eating her made him nervous. Maybe he was hallucinating from pain but he thought he saw movement in the shadows of the water beyond where she stood. He didn't want to see more gore if even it was nothing. "come on...i'm the one that made you have to jump in there." The yellowbloods palm only had a slight tremor too it as he reached out, waving her to him. Sweat beaded at his neck and temples, but he remained alert just the same.
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
2, 4
Total: 6 (2-12)
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 7:07 pm
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Confusing was an understatement. Sarcel didn't understand. She didn't understand Stryke's motives, his kindness, his actions. Her eyes were fixated on the hand that was extended to her. She wasn't a friend; she didn't know this yellowblood outside of his name and his affiliation, and yet here was this ******** hand staring her blue in the face. She could have screamed.
Her hand had darted out, but she caught it as it wavered in the space between them, her eyes huge. When was the last time a hand was extended to her? Why did it have to be by the enemy? <********>, why did she feel so much kinship with someone who was on the opposite side? What about her loyalty to her comrades? If she let him go, then it meant letting down the queen, Alifax, Lorata...... even Kursha. <******** Kursha.
That greenblood had sold these trolls out. They were all comrades once; weren't they? Was he ever on their side? Was he a rat from the start? Then... did that still count as a betrayal? Even if he didn't think of these trolls as comrades... surely some of them thought highly of him, didn't they? She wavered, flimsy as always. What point was there putting trust in Stryke when they were destined to fight regardless? She bit her lip...
and slapped his hand away.
"I-I can manage, w-worry about yourself..." the words hurt her more than they would probably hurt him. She had been taught to live for her ideals and her beliefs; she could rely on people, yet, but at the end of the night she needed to be strong and true to herself. She needed to be at a point where she wouldn't have to lean on other people. Friends were fine, but they couldn't be crutches, and neither could Stryke.
Quote: HP: 3/20DMG DEALT: --
AGILITY STYLE B (INVISIBILITY POWER): 0/1
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leon_a_darkangel rolled 2 6-sided dice:
1, 3
Total: 4 (2-12)
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Melancholies rolled 2 6-sided dice:
6, 2
Total: 8 (2-12)
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2015 7:27 pm
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Her hand stung where she slapped the hand away, fingertips tingling with something that wasn't just pain. Shame felt like the wrong word to use here, but Sarcel found herself... upset, almost. Not that she wasn't upset with this entire situation. She was exhausted. Her body was sore from the trek, and her mind was even worse. It throbbed, stung behind her eyes—or maybe those were just tears—but if there was one thing Sarcel prided herself on, it was her emotional resilience.
Sarcel Cincil didn't cry.
And it was true. She couldn't remember the last time she sobbed or wailed or even silently wept. She knew she was weak, she knew she was pathetic; the one thing she wouldn't give someone else was the satisfaction of her sorrow or her hurt. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sarcel willed the liquid back. She wouldn't cry, not from frustration, not from this.
Her mind continued to wander to an earlier thought. If they had met outside of this... they could have been; no, she was almost certain they could have been friends, or at least pleasant acquaintances. Why did the have to meet on opposing sides of the field like this? She didn't know. She hated how fate worked, and yet she craved how intertwined her life was within it. Believing in fate gave her already anxious mind a wall. It gave her stability, something to lean on, something to believe in. This is just how things were supposed to be. It was a shitty comfort to say the least, but it was easier to bear if she told herself there was nothing she could do to change the outcome.
Watching Stryke make his way up the muddy embankment, the blueblood stiffly followed, tenacious in her will that she wouldn't fall back down. If she slipped or messed up or hurt herself somehow, it meant Stryke could get away. Even injured, she wasn't about to let him have that opportunity.
Was she?
"I-I don't care... j-just hurry up..." her voice was trembling with her failing resolve.
Quote: HP: 3/20DMG DEALT: 2
AGILITY STYLE B (INVISIBILITY POWER): 0/1
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 10:58 pm
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At last Stryke’s veneer cracked, leaving his resolve and morale in shambles. Stryke felt humiliation burn his throat, he clenched his teeth past the sting in his eyes, as not to appear any weaker to the powered blueblood. She’d already demonstrated her place above him he didn’t need to reinforce it.
Finally after a long pause he spoke bitterly. "did you know..? freedom is fragile you sssee, it must be protected. i prefer liberty with danger, than peace with slavery." He felt hallow as doubt nipped at his heels, making his conviction sound remarkably cynical. His thirst for knowledge had driven him to this point...but now all the knowledge in the world wouldn't spare him this newest twist of fate.
Standing slowly, he looked into the blueblood's uneasy gaze with his downtrodden one. He still refused to make her his enemy. Stryke looked away, feeling his will breaking down further by the time she finally got up the embankment. All the fight in him had turned to strings better left to fray. Stryke couldn't even find the words he wanted to say. Strange given he’d wielded them as a weapon.
“mm, anywaysss…where too? we ssshould go. i've wasted enough of our time, clearly.” Stryke added tersely. Trolls already lived a lifetime of constant animosity. Hell, he'd inevitably contributed to that even with the best of intentions As Stryke moved, his cloak rustled revealing the hint of his knife holsters; his blazer had unbuttoned during the scuffle. Although he made no attempt to pull for them, Stryke merely waited for her to direct him.
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 12:37 am
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freedom is fragile you see
Sarcel turned the words over in her head as she rose from the murky water. The swamp was quiet now, but it wasn't the peaceful, pensive sort of silence. There was something awkward and empty about the humidified swamp air. Her chest felt so hollow, and despite the uncomfortable tepidness, she felt cold. Everything felt a little less animated, a little more stagnant, heavy and oppressive....
it must be protected
And well, that's what she was doing, wasn't it? She was protecting and fighting for something so fundamentally important to her kind. This was how things were. There was no point in contesting the natural order; one could still be happy, still have peace, still live their lives... was that not freedom? Each and every troll had an obligation, if they couldn't follow it... well, Sir would say they didn't deserve Alternia's protection. Dissenters had to be stomped out, had to be stopped. Nothing could threaten the fragile balance woven here.
i prefer liberty with danger
But it was wrong! It had to have been wrong. Her shoes were ruined, completely unfit for swamp-terrain as they sunk into the mud with her floundering resolve. She had to take a figurative step back. What was it even like, living as a lowblood? She was pathetic, awful, a failure; had she been all those things as a lower caste... she would have been culled by now, wouldn't she? Or would she be praised and looked up to because of her total subordination? She surely wasn't looked down on for being a weak highblood, unless it was by a higherblood them self. She could live with that. It was the same natural order, the same one she so strictly adhered to, the same one floating around in her thoughts;
than peace with slavery
For all it was worth, the air might as well have been chilled. She felt the goosebumps, felt the shivers. Her hands were shaking as they grasped the gun, her frame was being wracked with tremors of barely contained sounds. She was so, so weak. Stryke's bitterness as he spoke slapped across her face as hard as one of Sir's scarred hands, and for a second she felt like she was nothing more than a speck. She would never amount to Alternia's greatness, not without Sir there to guide her. She was lost, a wayward cause. If Sir saw her now... she didn't even want to think about it, didn't want to consider it, didn't...
Didn't want to think about the enemy showing her such ******** mercy. Her eyes gleamed with the shape of the knife holsters, and her gun fell to the ground with a squelchy thud. She didn't want this, she never wanted to do this. Why the ******** was it so hard? All she had to do was what others told her to do; she wasn't allowed to have ******** opinions and ******** thoughts. She felt just as punishable as the dissenters for even thinking these things. She deserved to be locked up with the rest of them. She just—
It was the first time in sweeps that she actually felt her age. She felt small, young, vulnerable as a tiny hoarse sob broke through, teeth immediately biting her lip. No tears had fallen—she wouldn't dare let them—the sound was bad enough. Her hands still shot up to her eyes anyway, screwing them shut, willing away whatever was welling there. Stupid stupid stupid, never take your eyes off the enemy, not even for a second.
But why bother? Stryke should have attacked her if he had the chance. He had access to her gun, to his hidden daggers... he had plenty of opportunities, and she had asked him at every given moment why, and none of it made any sense to her. What the ******** was mercy in war?!
Why the ******** did she feel understanding in his ruined resolve?!
She was going against everything, setting herself up to be a failure. She had let Alifax down—some comrade—and Lorata—some hero—And Kursha? Kursha. She was letting her team down. She wasn't as bad as that son of a b***h, but just feeling she was approaching some similar sort of level...
And, well, Sir. But she had let him down a long time ago.
"Run."
Her fists found their way back down to her sides as she inhaled deep, calming breaths, "J-Just run. R-Run and s-survive." she hiccuped slightly from the effort of restraint, "R-Run and d-don't look back"
"T-The swamp is d-dark, and y-you got away."
Each word uttered burned like a coal in her throat. It was a choice she would never be able to live down, never be able to grow past, she was sure. She just wanted to go home.
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Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 1:45 am
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"J-Just run. R-Run and s-survive." Hiccup. "R-Run and d-don't look back"
Stryke's eyes snapped open wide, drawn from his self-loathing. All he could do was stare at her. Run. She'd told him to run. Disbelief washed over his features, his pump biscuit hammering wildly. Running would be so hard with a limp and bleeding but he would go. "s...ssarcel..?" He never tried to stress names, but Stryke couldn't help it. Who cared if he hissed her damn name! That hardly mattered, he feared for her safety in that moment.
He bit at his bottom lip..already backing up slowly. what?! She was offering salvation, and would be risking her life to protect him. "i-i..wisssh you a very fond farewell...t-thank you! pleassse! survive as well!" Why was it in the darkest hour they'd had an understanding? He promised her by demanding the same, they didn't need to agree. Stay alive and I will do the same. Stryke would never forgive himself if she was ever punished on his behalf. "i will never forget this." Stryke added quietly, pulling his hood down low over his ashen features before he broke into a run.
The yellowblood owed her so much more than his gratitude. Stryke did not believe in goodbyes, he preferred farewells and until we meet agains. The thought made him want to throw up, they shouldn't meet again it was dangerous. Nothing would ever be the same after these nights. How many times did he have to tell himself that? Ryk felt his body tremble. He was running blindly now. He'd failed his teammates by getting caught. Byakko wasn't safe, Zeffer and Maneki were alone...and now so was he as he fled. "T-The swamp is d-dark, and y-you got away." Her words burned into his thinkpan, each etched permanently. It was almost as if she'd echoed his thoughts earlier. A chill traveled down his spine, the blue phantom of the swamp would let him pass. It was harder to breathe as he ran from Sarcel. Pangs of guilt threatened to consume him.
Translucent yellow tears clouded his vision as he ran into the darkness of the swamp. Into the night where he could not be found. Lost. The blueblood had looked so sad and lost. Then again, who wasn't within these volatile times. Stryke had seen what hope could inspire. It was with that he wanted to believe one day in the sweeps to come he'd meet Sarcel again and they could talk. It would be without the sorrow and misery of this mire as their soundtrack, and perhaps he could try and understand why she had been so sad. It was the least he could do given the opportunity.
For now, he had to focus on running. There was no turning back, nor was a second glance spared for fear of loosing his nerve. Not even the white hot pain coursing would stop him for sometime. Adrenaline had spirited him away.
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