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 Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2012 8:09 pm
Samael does not often venture down the hard-packed roads of Palisade. Paul has speculated that this is an aversion to the heavy air, to the mud mashed under hundreds of feet, to the press of crows around him. Perhaps, more realistically, it is just due to an affinity with the forest. Even at the country estate, after all, Samael seems to prefer running through the woods than sitting with Paul within the safety of four walls, rarely stepping over the threshold...
Whatever his reasoning, it is an oddity that he has come into the city tonight, and perhaps a sign that the fragile peace between the Guardian and his Chosen is starting to fray. Samael is by nature patient, but even he has his limits, and Paul's drunken endeavors dig beneath teh skin more than anything else.
The problem, in contrast, is that he does not know his way around, and instead must follow the sense of where his Chosen is. The result is a dead end, an alley narrow enough that his shoulders almost brush the walls on either side, and Samael unable to turn around to retreat. He has been here ten minutes, the streets too quiet at this hour for anyone to have noticed yet, and has been slowly growing toward panic.
Paul, naturally, is too drunk, or distracted, or perhaps asleep, to have noticed yet.
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Posted: Wed Dec 26, 2012 9:05 pm
The two were on their way out of the city that night, the mercenary and his strange companion. Neither carried lights nor took even the best lit paths, which was probably how they ended up down the narrow winding road that spearheaded into the alleyways that were edged in darkest shadow.
Garrett walked without concern or any sign of fear, decked in dark materials to seemingly blend in with the gritty parts of the city, even if light would show his finer riding clothes, his pace even but at a quickened pace out of eagerness more than discomfort. Half dragging the dark-haired man, half trotting, Aravel's pelt wasn't as dark as his Chosen's attire and seemed to catch even distant light, the glow caught in his green eyes. He, too, was eager, for at the end of their journey would be the outside of the city itself and there, in the dark roads and fields with only moonlight as their guide, they would ride.
Stuck in the inner city at the green-eyed man's lover's quarters, the buck was even more needing of his need to stretch his legs. It was why he lead, why he didn't care if his hooves against human-worn streets was audible, or if attention was drawn their way. Freedom was close --
-- but perhaps not for others. The enormous deer stopped abruptly, causing Garrett to almost stumble, hand on the dappled hindquarters to keep his balance. Aravel turned his head as though hearing something and, after a small bit of confusion and a flick of ears, peered down the alleyway. It was too dark to see clearly for the human, whose eyes were still adjusting, but for the attentive glowing greens of the buck at his side, he was aware.
"...you're sure?" Garrett asked his Guardian with doubt in his tone, not at the claim, but that the creature that Aravel 'spoke' to him of was down such a dank stretch of high walls. "It's kind of narrow for a jaunt, Ara."
The buck knew. He stamped his hoof on the cobblestone, even as Garrett slipped into the dark mouth of the alleyway. He couldn't see yet, but the swallowing darkness would force him to adjust. "Someone there?" he asked lamely. Not like he expect anyone to answer, but Aravel had insisted someone touched by the Wardwood was here, and here was nowhere good.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2012 3:29 pm
In the dark and the quiet, it would be hard to see any companion -- but add to that Samael's dark coloration, the grey-on-grey of his pelt against the alley wall, and he becomes nothing but a ghost in the shadows. Garret will be able to make out movement, but that is all, as Samael struggles once more to turn around and finds himself too close on either side, scrapes his shoulder again, antlers not quite tangling on some low-hanging laundry --
It's hopeless. He makes a sound but it's vague, more a breath than anything Garett could actually use, and it doesn't even have the strength to sound afraid, even if he finds himself quaking a bit on the inside.
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Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2013 5:31 pm
"Hey now," the man says calmly, only a little alarmed by the movement. It wasn't surprising that something was moving, obviously, but the size of it was a bit catching. Garrett's footsteps are slow and measured, feet sliding on the stone so he doesn't kick anything to draw unwanted attention. "Name's Garrett, fella -- or lady, be you what you may -- I have on good account that you might need some help."
Of course, the man was just yammering, hoping his slow approach would be heard. The last thing he wanted was a pair of frightened deer hooves in his chest in such close quarters. He was reckless, but he wasn't entirely stupid.
Behind him, standing at the mouth of the alley, Aravel simply gazes inward, his lightly glowing eyes the only real light in the immediate vicinity. Clearly, he has better sense than his Chosen when it came to dealing with his brethren.
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