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 Posted: Mon Jul 08, 2013 2:56 am
Sanguine shivered and reeled from Sloane upon feeling his breath against her skin. She held in a pained laugh, her claws now barely dragging against the back of the knight's armor-- it was only When he reeled back that she gasped at his weightlessness and pulled him back up properly. Though the area was now well-guarded by defending Fellowship forces, prepared and more heftily equipped in comparison to that of House soldiers, the eminent threat of danger and death did not leave Sanguine's mind. The towering knight she had vowed to but an hour or two before was now a sloping, bleeding figure, now no taller than she.
The Infitialis sniffed, her pale cheeks and nose growing flustered as she burst into a confused sobbing at the knight's words. "What a foolish thing to ask, Sir Sloane," she blustered, "Can you see? Can you feel your wounds? Please-- no--
"--No! You're hurt!" when the knight attempted to move, Sanguine merely followed his motions haplessly; when he reeled, she rested desperately against the side of his chest and screamed. She sat upright to try and gather his weight again, claws sleek against his armor with the wetness of melting snow and silver.
Sanguine's eyes widened as she noticed her claws gather friction against the rougher parts of his armor before losing grip once again. She pulled herself up and onto her knees to wrap her arms even tighter around Sloane, then surveyed the surface of his back and side with her delicate claws.
"You can't stay here..." She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head over one of his shoulders. While she couldn't find any soft spot in the crevasses of his armor, she remained confident of her own abilities-- she'd seen men in chainmail and crude armor fall this morning-- and tempered her breath. "You must stand," she said, desperately, "I can help, but it will hurt... please, forgive me."
Sanguine retracted her claws, and squeezed her strangely human-like hands to his sides. She bore the tips of her fingers against his armor and pressed against it, summoning her claws once again to protrude through his armor.
"You'll die here otherwise," she cried, her claws having managed to press through the surface of Sloane's pale skin and into his flesh. When she could feel the squelch against her claws, the Infitialis braced herself, "So stand! Walk!"
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Posted: Mon Jul 08, 2013 1:31 pm
All around them, the sound of footfalls, steel, and screams made it difficult for him to concentrate. The pain in his arms and the rest of his body was making his head swim but he fought to keep himself steady in mind and body. A weak scoff of pity left Sloane at Sanguine's sob as he craned his neck back to draw in a deep breath. His eyes did not fail him, he knew well his injuries, but upon her body it was difficult to distinguish wounds from spattered blood and injuries given by others from those which were self inflicted. He huffed, letting his head fall back into a low hang after his failed attempt at standing.
Lady Sanguine's concern washed over him and his eyes closed as he tried to feel her touch through his armor. Her arms around him, though clumsy and out of desperation, were a welcomed comfort he was scarcely afforded. For a moment he lost himself again to the sounds of violence around them and her scent, eyes fluttered open attentively at her plea for forgiveness.
He didn't understand at first, only able to feel the slight ticks of her fingertips against the edges of the armored plates of his abdomen. When her fingers dipped beneath the tight spaces as best they could, he braced though he knew not for what. Sharp punctures in his sides, eight in total as her thumbs remained outside to keep a grip on his armor, forced their way through his skin. Sloane could feel the press of each one against his flesh, the initial dip as they slipped neatly inside, then lengthened and expanded. His body jerked forward at the sensation, unable to make a sound at first. Once his breath caught up with his nerves, a horrible roar shook through him. His mouth stretched wide, jaws hovering dangerously over Sanguine's bare shoulder, threatening to pierce her flesh just as she pierced his. He clenched his mouth shut with great effort, rendering his vocalizations to strained growls, and pressed his forehead safely against her shoulder instead. A series of quick breaths left him, interrupting his snarls of pain, then he tried to stand with only his legs. It was an arduous process without the use of his arms, fresh pain blanking his mind with nothing but white and red, but Lady Sanguine's efforts were not wasted; it was only with her assistance that he made it to his feet.
Once there, he was much sturdier but he still hunched over, arms limp and dangling at his sides as tainted blood leaked thick from the wound in his left arm. The slice to his cheek from the same blade still dribbled, warm drops falling or smearing against Sanguine's flesh as he took a moment to rest. He did not give himself much time, their continued presence among the circle of Fellowship soldiers a steadily increasing risk. Sloane began their movement, a single step at first to test his own mobility as well as theirs as a single entity. They made their way to the edge, some mages breaking away with a quick order to surround both of them in a much smaller circle and protect them as they navigated to the edge of the courtyard. They were given cover fire from numerous bows as they ascended the stairs, their guard breaking into a line to block the walkway behind them.
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Posted: Mon Jul 22, 2013 2:33 pm
Sanguine was alarmed when the Fellowship soldiers encircled them, though she wasn't nearly as vehement about it as Sloane's jaws hung precariously over her pale shoulder. Her claws retracted slightly out of fear, but they didn't leave the knight so quickly; her aim was resolute. She pressed her head against the chest of Sloane's armor and bore the silence that encapsulated them for that brief moment while Sir Sloane regained his bearings. Her movements mirrored his as he began to rise, and though she was nervous still for being so close to the man, Sanguine stared bravely up at Sloane with a shadow of a confident smile.
She took her first step backwards towards Anica, bare feet crunching against the snow. "Slowly," she whispered, as she focused her attentions to the ground and the feet that carried their heavy bodies. Sanguine was careful not to let go of Sir Sloane, and relished every drip of invigorating blood that fled from his body-- they spilled onto her shoulders and seeped into her skin, at first appearing to be droplets of deep red rubies.
The descent to Anica was slow and precarious, yet with every backwards step, Sanguine felt more invigorated than before, perhaps due to the blood spilled from Sir Sloane. It took resolution for her not to feel overwhelmingly guilty of the process, and she knew her strength was carrying them up the stairs, which were longer and narrower than the blood lady ever remembered them being. By the time they reached the very entrance of Anica, large and imposing, Sanguine stared back past Sloane's torso at the field of white and red and black they had to leave behind.
There was no time to revel-- the mage soldiers that had crowded them soon left. Sanguine assumed a state of panic and frantically dragged Sloane's body into the final stretch of the Anica castle. She collapsed as soon as they were hidden behind one of the Fellowship columns, and Sir Sloane slumped on the floor with her. She looked up at the remainder of Anica, with its rich tapestries and candle lights, and found it severely empty.
Sanguine slowly released her claws from Sloane's sides, and stared at her fingers, which were now gushing with a thick, black blood. She transformed her hands back into a more human state and, now shaking, stared around at the hall for no one in particular, and found but a handful of wary Augurs and Mages glaring down at them from the halls. A few approached with ebbing caution.
"Please," she pleaded, "Humans, don't come near! Send for a Quietus-- quickly!"
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 11:47 am
The trip was arduous but Sanguine's assistance in guiding him and the offered protection from the Fellowship soldiers made their ascent toward the castle possible. Their protection only lasted so long before they had to retreat and tend to the still eminent threat. Sloane could feel the Blood Lady's trepidation in her claws, trembling gently inside of him. The feeling caused him to hiss and grimace but it was nothing compared to their initial entry or the rest of his wounds. When they met the wall, the Plague knight fell against it and slid roughly to the floor, releasing a short snarl of protest when Sanguine's claws were removed.
Sloane's head fell back against the stone wall. His body was limp again, like out on the snow, and he could barely keep his eyes open as he released haggard breaths. The sword was keenly aware of what was happening around him, despite this, and he forced his eyes open to look upon Lady Sanguine as he heard her frantic plea to the humans. Sloane turned his head just enough to catch some of their eyes and he nodded to them, agreeing with the request. Anica was so much larger than the Northern Bases. Not everyone dwelling here knew his appearance or the tie he had to the Grand Magus and so not everyone would bother to assist two Plagues -- no, two Infitialis -- who were tired and injured. There may have been some who would know and wouldn't care regardless.
"L-...Lady Sanguine..." he turned his attention back to her as she sat before him once the Augurs rushed off. His breath was ragged, deep and pained, but despite it he kept his voice calm. Once her attention was on him again, he scoffed and gave a pitiable smile. "Do not fear death of me..." There was no denying his injuries were serious and plentiful, the bleeding slow and thick but consistent. However, Sloane was convinced, either in truth or folly, that he had seen and felt worse before. If one were to put all of his battles together at once, surely he would be dead by now, but there he rested -- still breathing.
She looked so fearful. His fingers twitched at his side, hands wanting badly to offer her a reassuring touch but both were keeping him supported and upright. The side of her face uncovered by hair, her pale cheek with its strange, intricate, and alluring pattern, beckoned to his palm but he couldn't manage, not now. As he rested his head back and closed his eyes once more, giving up on that urge for now, Sloane's breath choked and he grit his teeth. His chest thrust out for a moment as he tried to hold back a cough, blood leaking from the side of his mouth. The knight released a growl of frustration before settling back down. He didn't turn to look but the sound of several sets of hurried footsteps coming from down the hall toward them allowed him to relax a little more. This pain would end soon.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 5:23 pm
A Quietus of ghastly nature descended from the stairs quicker than most, as he was slightly more advantageous over humans with his lack of legs. His white eyes trailed with a faint, smoky light that surrounded the rest of him in a seemingly pleasant aura, though this skill didn't seem to do him any good at the present moment-- Sanguine was still hunched over Sloane's seemingly motionless figure, and the Fellowship members around him halted several feet before they were in the vicinity of the two Infitialis. The pools of deep crimson and thick blood were too much for a few of them to bare, and a few mages-- many seemingly young-- simply looked away and reeled where the Plagues could not see.
"Out of my way!"
The Quietus floated up behind Sanguine and attempted to pry her away from Sloane, though the attempt was initially in vain. Sanguine shot the Quietus a wild look before scampering off to the side, and the Quietus quickly took her place in front of Sloane to survey his wounds, his iridescent skin illuminated brightly against the worn sheen of the Plague knight's armor. Sanguine still sat strangely near to Sloane while the Quietus shot vaguely disappointed looks between the two Infitialis, his skinny and translucent fingers leaning in to touch Sloane by the cheek-- unlike his outwardly fragile demeanor, the Quietus was rough in his handling.
"Pray, are you lame? Or can you talk? Speak to me," the Quietus roughly pat Sloane on one cheek, "Free yourself of this armor at once, Sir Sloane, or my magic will be ineffective."
Sanguine felt inclined to protect Sloane from the Quietus' rude attempts to snap the Anhelo back into focus, and shot him a vicious look that largely went unnoticed. "Sir Sloane can barely move now, let alone speak," she retorted, "Send for another Quietus if you must make him do work!"
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 5:52 pm
The knight had indeed fallen largely motionless, though it wasn't for lack of consciousness so much to save his strength. His head rested back against the stone wall, eyes closed, while his chin was raised and his mouth hung open slightly, offering short white plumes to the air with his breath. Sloane was still aware of Lady Sanguine's presence, a comfort which was almost violently denied him by the call of the candle-like Quietus. The sword gave a rough grunt in protest but it was ignored.
For a brief moment the two surveyed one another. The strange, ghostly Quietus leaning in close offered his skin and blood a pale purple illumination that shone strangely against the Infitialis' mismatched eyes. His own were barely open, just enough so the other Plague knew he was attentive and that Sloane could see more than colorful blobs. There was a slight flinch upon Sloane's face, a hitch in his breath when he saw the candle's spindly fingers approach. He cringed at the touch but his reaction to the rough pat had a second of delay, at which he bared his teeth and snarled then immediately reeled it back with a strained groan.
Lady Sanguine's quick defense was appreciated and, once again, Sloane forced himself to relax as much as possible despite the pain still searing through him. Just as she finished, he denied her demand through his teeth, "No." There was a short pause as he tried to adjust himself against the wall without the use of his arms. "No... I can..." Another brief moment of silence followed then was quickly taken up by deepened breaths and quiet sounds of strain.
Concentration and flaring pain was easy to read on the sword's face but, all the same, after a few seconds of seemingly nothing, his armor plates shivered and slowly, agonizingly slowly, they parted, shifted, pulled themselves away and down. By the time they neatly clamped themselves upon his wrists as nothing but tight silver bracelets, a single red jewel resting above his veins, his upper body was completely devoid of armor while his lower stayed covered. Once finished, his entire body fell limp against the wall once more and his head lolled momentarily toward Lady Sanguine.
"My arms -- my arms are lame... One of their mages..." If it were possible, he were even more breathless than before, his eyes fully closed. Without the armor to hold it in, his blood gushed forth more eagerly, staining his shoulder and his sides with a thick, rich red tinted black. The only movement from his arms was an occasional involuntary twitch of his fingers alongside a pulse, each one issuing a slight grimace. "Please..."
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 9:20 pm
Sanguine was unable to say anything before Sloane called away his armor. She reeled back and watched in horror as gushes of blood streamed from where she'd stabbed through him onto the sleek marble floor, where it collected around her own pale palms and seeped into her fingers and knees.
"Sir Sloane--"
"Is it in your nature to control your bleeding, Sword, or is my assumption false? You're fading quickly," The Quietus covered the sides of Sloane's ribs and emanated with a sickly hot to the touch, "This must be quick. It will burn-- this is my warning. You will remain where you are and refrain from moving. My wax will be ineffective if it slips overmuch with your blood."
The Quietus' hands seeped with an intense heat that seemed to seethe with contact upon touching Sloane's flesh. He started first with his ribs, his eyes burning a concentrated and intense white as his fingers melted like candlewax onto the Infitialis' skin, his hair whisking around him like trails of smoke as he did so. The heat stemming from the Quietus was so great that Sanguine squeezed shut her eyes and backed instinctively away from Sloane, though she immediately regret it-- with her hands shielding her face, she stared bewildered at the Quietus.
"You continue to hurt him!"
The injuries from Lady Sanguine's wounds were strangely persistent, even while the Quietus focused its powers on laying wax against the wounds. The punctures ran deep, and every bit of wax he lost was directly from his own skin. By the time he faced Sanguine to speak to her, and seized momentarily in his magic, the Quietus had lost both of his hands to the process.
"How dare you question my work?" The Quietus' healing had transmitted his own strange properties onto Sloane, the injuries began to seep away and melt together with the wax, as if two candles came into contact with one another. The candle faced Sloane once again, and seemed quite pleased at the process, though he continued to speak with with firm indignation.
"Speak to your Infitialis friend, Sword. Shall I leave you here and fetch another Quietus for the job, or is my sacrifice given to someone grateful?"
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 10:33 pm
His breathing shuddered at the sound of his name on Sanguine's tongue but it was quickly overtaken by the Quietus' authoritative tone. Sloane forced one of his eyes open, allowing them to briefly regard one another. Each ragged breath stretched the wounds on his sides and caused a shot of pain to move down his arms like a wave. "Not well..." he offered weakly. His control over blood, as shown on the battlefield just a short time ago, was thus far only available to him when his mind was drowning in carnage. Beyond that, the sword's level of control was quite pitiable and, perhaps, even quite the opposite.
At the heated touch of spindly fingers against his side, Sloane hissed. His body involuntarily curled forward in effort to retreat but he fought against the natural instinct. A thin line of blood dribbled from his mouth as he leaned over himself, attempting to brace for what the Quietus promised would burn. All he could offer was a single nod before he felt the white hot touch. The Infitialis' spine immediately straightened like a pillar, bare skin smacking against the stone behind him as he threw his head back. Every nerve in his torso was screaming in agony. A wretched snarl tore from his throat but the Plague knight kept his jaws firmly shut. Each muscle he still had control over tensed and throbbed, neck bulging as he fought to keep himself still. Only his legs moved, shifting noisily against the floor, but their movements did not interfere with the Quietus' work. The heat was intense and Sloane felt like it was seeping into him. Despite the growing pain, he couldn't muster the strength to look down -- so he allowed it. He allowed his flesh to feel like it was being burned from his bones.
Lady Sanguine's voice barely registered over his own. Just as the Quietus began wrapping up, the pain became too intense and his jaws forced themselves wide. Sloane released a guttural howl, then pried his own mouth shut once more as the candle's melted arms pulled back. When the pain evened and then began to cool with Shyregoed's chill, Sloane's sound ceased and his body went limp again. For just a second, he didn't appear to breathe. His chest rose high, a loud gasp filling his lungs as if he had been drowning, and he was finally able to lift his head.
The question blind sided him. Sloane went slack jawed, breathing labored as blood still trickled down his chin. His gaze drifted down as he attempted to process the inquiry, down to his abdomen and the wax covered wounds. It was hardening. The bleeding stopped and there was a subtle, cooling tingle spreading out ever so slowly. Sloane clenched his eyes shut, brows knight tightly as he gave his head a clumsy shake. He swallowed but his throat felt raw. "I am grateful..." even if he didn't appreciate the pain there was no time to fetch a different medic, "I beg you, do not stop... This Quietus' method of healing was disagreeable in process but the results of a Quietus' white magic were undeniable. All the same, Lady Sanguine's concern came as a great surprise as well as a comfort. A finger twitched painfully at the thought of wishing to reassure her with a simple touch but it was all he could muster.
Before bracing himself for more, Sloane turned to look at her. It was difficult to maintain eye contact and almost immediately his head lolled against his shoulder, gaze instead pointed to her pale fingers extended to the dark blood pooled around him. He watched with dazed awe as his own blood gently caressed and seeped into her flesh. A soft breath left him at the sight, one corner of his lips twisting into a pained smile. Was he nourishing her? The Blood Lady, taking the spilled blood of Estratus' Sword within herself? It was weak but he attempted to maintain the smile as he looked her in the eye, though it scarcely gave him time to prepare for the next administration of wax.
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Posted: Sun Nov 10, 2013 10:18 pm
The candle savored Sir Sloane's response and leered forward to continue his work, his face full of satisfaction-- if there was anything the QUietus lived for, it was gratefulness, and the Infitialis did well to feed his pride. The innocent Grimm looming just behind him stared apologetically to Sloane, but like Sanguine, there was nothing the young one could do but pray for Sloane's health and for his howling to stop. By the time Sloane urged the candle to continue, Sanguine was at his behest to remain calm, but she was not faring well. Her hands were pressed against the marble tile and she shook, so close was she to weeping for him.
The Quietus placed his newly grown hands on either side of Sloane's arms. His touch was deceivingly gentle and calm, and the warmth of his glowing white eyes looked upon Sloane. "It will be over soon."
The process began anew without warning, and the Quietus pressed onward with his work with twice the vigor, which meant twice the wax and twice the heat. His arms were quickly being used up, now, but the wounds were successfuly cauterizing.
As the candle resumed his work, Sanguine stared with wide eyes between the candle and Sloane. The instinct to protect and overwhelm did not subside from their battle only moments ago. She restrained herself by clawing the floor beneath her and deigning to slide one hand cloer to Sloane, but she dared not touch him. She would not touch him now, while he was desperatedly wounded, she would not touch him-- but she nevertheless admired the idea of it, the red glow of the gem heart on her chest flooding with light and worry.
"You did well beyond the castle walls today, Sir Sloane," Sanguine said quietly, one claw faintly touching Sloane's upper arm. She cared little that red-hot wax dribbled onto her palms; she winched and grimaced through the pain, "You did--"
"Do not touch him," the candle seethed. His arms were now clearly gone, and the cauterization process was finished at the base of Sir Sloane's wrists The Quietus inspected his work before tiredly floating away from him.
"It is done," the candle snapped, "Do not do this again." Candlewax dripped from the Quietus' shoulders.
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