A flight long in the running...

[homeless_pard]

Who: Khem and a new world!
When: Start of canon smash here!
What: Terrified kitty arrives in the vague area of St. Louis.

Tired. She was so bone weary that had someone told her that she'd die but it would be in a bed, she might honestly accept that trade at this point. The pads of her feet were leaving red marks along the rough stone she scrambled and clawed haphazardly upward, ever upward, ever away, through so many terrains they all blurred together in a haze of color and snatched hunts.

She should have lost him. Should have, and there had been times over the past turns where she had almost believed him gone. Finally shaken from her trail and naught more than a shadow left in her mind to spur her onward. Any hunter would eventually give up on game when coursing it had run to long...

...surely?

Ah, but she'd little experience with hunters, those near the abbey were more farmers with the occasional lord's man, and even had they needed care it was likelier that they would seek tending from their own ladies. AN isolated abbey was not easy to seek out when ill.

Still, it had seemed logical that he'd stop. At the Wastes perhaps.

At the Falls.

At the turn of blasted scree to strange, new lands past where tales she knew ended...

...and yet here she was, his shadow practically nipping at her heels. She was flagging and he hadn't stopped. This hunt was soon to end, as any chased thing knew in time, escape simply wasn't going to happen. Mayhap it would kinder, cleaner, to miss a jump. To tumble and not reach for ledges as she went down.

Kinder...but she shrank from it none the less. A little further...

...a little further...

...until there was naught left but sheer walls and a deep, dark crack between. A cave, not a passage. No exit. A tomb for one hard worn girl who had thought, foolishly, that finding fur had granted her freedom. And so it was to end.

If he hounded her even here, his bootsteps harsh on the stones behind her, then she was determined he would know who he was to slay. Not some cat that had teased him, not some furred prize, but as a woman. If he was to slay her, let him slay a woman and be haunted by her face. An unkindness perhaps, but she was far past ability to feel for him.

To wonder if she could explain, or beg her safety somehow.

No, let him have a flickering pang of conscience as he did his fell deeds. And so as the mouth of the cave darkened she set her back to the stone, fingers rather than claws lifted to shade her face, skin covered in long, dark hair and gooseflesh that gave some semblance of proper depth to her too-thin frame.

Let him slay a woman.

And yet, as she watched the dull, metallic sheen of a dart gun rising, it wasn't pain she felt burn through her chest but warmth where her single item, the amber stone on a string about her neck graced to her by Gunnora, flickered like sunlight and the wall at her back faded to naught so that she was falling...

...falling...

...falling...

...there was a brief scream, she couldn't help it, as her shoulders struck beaten grass and tree roots, shock making the sound choke off as abruptly as it had started. A heartbeat, two, as she stared up at tangled tree limbs and dappled light she shouldn't be seeing then she was sitting up with a gasp, trying to espy the Hunter.

And he was not there. Somehow, somehow...he was not there, and she sat in a wood far younger than the one before the stones she'd climbed, hands and feet still bleeding harshly from the abuse she'd pounded into them over the many moons of travel. She was alone and she was...naked. The stone upon her breast cooling from it's earlier warmth. She'd give thanks somehow, later. For now she shivered back into fur in a blur of mist and achingly, carefully, hauled herself up into a tree to try to determine where she might be.

A how would take much longer no doubt, but...

...rest seemed a blessing, and she was still so very, very tired.

With luck there would be no fresh, strange beasts to contest her claiming the crook of a tree, there to watch, or likelier pass into blessed unconsciousness.

Comments

[homeless_pard]

She took his hand gently, fingers a touch tacky from scab attempts, but the aid up was yet another sign that she had graced him 'lord' well. "Shouldst future events demand such only then," she agreed carefully. An informal lord was not a terrible thing?

Ah, she looked down at her feet a moment at his question, "apologies, I have been running harsh for some time. Like there are damages I've yet to feel proper, but I will treat myself when I am able, I'll not burden you."

[jasonpschuyler]

Helping her to her feet helped clear his head slightly of the flood of mental images that were absolutely not appropriate to the current situation. This girl was clearly hurt, hunted, and needed help, not...

Not what he was going to think about right now.

He gave an amused chuff. "You're really not a burden." He paused, knowing how alarming it could sound to a young woman, alone and hurt with a stranger, especially considering the thoughts he'd just banished from his head. "I can carry you, if you don't mind it. I'm a lot stronger than I look. There's no reason to push through if you're hurting."

He made sure his expression was the very picture of pure intent.

[homeless_pard]

She blinked, a bit tense at that offer. When had she last been carri-grabbed, so she couldn't run...

...no. No. Carried. Carried.

She'd certainly been a child? Far too young to fear, yes. She shivered, convulsive, but...what if she angered him by truly being slow? "If it is best," she managed, distantly proud the words didn't choke her.

[jasonpschuyler]

He noticed her tense, but in his mind he credited it to hesitation over letting a strange man carry her off to who knows where. Still, he didn't want to freak her out. "It's a long walk and most of the trail is gravel."

He leaned down, placing his arms just far enough that she could move into his lift rather than just grabbing her up. "It's ok," he assured.

[homeless_pard]

She did step forward, and when picked up she was more like malnourished iron in his arms than anything but she didn't whimper? That was a triumph! "An unfortunate place to arrive." If it truly was all gravel to leave it.

[jasonpschuyler]

He carried her gingerly, letting her stay rigid in his arms and trying to be as calming as he could with the tension he could feel buzzing around her.
The trees and underbrush finally opened to a wide gravel path that cut through the trees. He continued steadily, putting his back to the sun as his shoes crunched through the gravel. More people were beginning to appear on the trails, especially after turning a corner to empty onto the paved main trail. Most eyed the pair curiously and continued on, with a few slowing to ask if everything was alright. Jason simply smiled and explained that his friend had slipped on some rocks and got a little scraped up. A natural performer, it was easy to be charming and put them at ease.
Just ahead, the path can be seen ending in a large, cleared area filled with lights. "Car's just ahead and I'll set you down, ok?"

[homeless_pard]

This was...more people than she'd seen in over a year honestly. Given the fact she'd fled the abbey at night and through the sleeping village nearby, it may be more than she'd been graced to see even in two years...

Every moment, honestly, she assumed someone would say this was wrong, or would decry her as foreign and evil and call the hunt once more. Instead people seemed...awkward. She started apologizing, quietly, to, to each person that approached them? She did not know the ruse, but the soft words seemed to reassure as well? "yes, please." Yes, ground. Firm ground would be nice...the lights were getting a look though. They were...like way stones. Huh.

[jasonpschuyler]

If she thinks this is a lot, she will be shocked once they get into the city. There were more cars in the parking lot since he'd arrived, but it was getting later and more people were stopping by the park after work hours. He didn't stop until he reached his car, setting her gently onto her damaged feet.

He was digging his keys out of his pocket while he gave her a moment to adjust to the hard pavement under her feet. He was glad he'd recently cleaned his car out and didn't have to clear a spot for her. He opened the passenger door for her. "M'lady," he said brightly.

[homeless_pard]

She is in for a great deal of shock yes, from the feel of asphalt the very odd looking...transport, yes. A great deal of shock, and eyes bleeding a touch to gold at his words.

Likely it was teasing on his part, but it held far different meaning in her own understanding, meaning and connotations that he certainly had not asked...

"Is...such common in your lands?" She managed, hands balling, "to lay claim so easily?" Or boldly, to strangers?

[jasonpschuyler]

He froze, blinking in confusion.

"...what?"

A clear clash of cultures, this, coupled with modern concepts of historical speech that comes from movies and TV shows. But his confusion is written all over his face.

[homeless_pard]

Oh dear, how best to try to deal with the sad, tired blushing? "It is an unkindness, lord, to claim a woman who is not your betrothed." Or wed. And a cruelty to one such as she honestly.

"It does not seem you meant the harm, but please, such terms are not for the likes of myself." Now to look away from him, yes, very much so. And...stare down into the transport. It was odd not to look up at a wagon bench honestly.

[jasonpschuyler]

His mouth gaped slightly at that as he struggled for words. "Oh no, I wasn't...I was just..." He passed a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to be...polite?"

And you're fucking it up, you idiot.

He took a clearing breath and gestured again towards the car, if a little helplessly. "If you want to get in, we can get going."

[homeless_pard]

"You have been the essence of kind," she assured quietly. "Barring the term I do not think is...common to you?" And she was grateful he wasn't angry at the mild correction.

"I just...sit." It seemed, yes. Getting in. In that graceful folding down to perch on the edge of a weirdly soft...chair.

[jasonpschuyler]

He eased up a bit in relief at that. "Not really, unless you're watching some history drama."

He watched as she perched awkwardly in the car seat. "Uh, no, you gotta sit back in the seat. And buckle up." He pointed to the seat belt at her shoulder, miming pulling it across his body and clicking it into the buckle.

He pushed back more questions about how she didn't know about cars either; hopefully they could figure this out back at the Circus.

[homeless_pard]

"...history," she repeated softly, more as a note she'd think on. If her speech was history was there aught she would be at all useful for in a world like this?

Not a comfortable thought.

Much like figuring out seat belts wasn't really comfortable. She ended up wrapping her hands in the upper strap to keep it from rubbing at her collar bone (and probably tighter the moment the car started moving).

Oh dear Powers it was terrifying. TODAY WAS TERRIFYING.

[jasonpschuyler]

It was still warm outside, so it wouldn't seem suspicious when he cracked the window on his side: he needed a little fresh air to distract him from the sharp scent of fear...and the faint scent of blood. He kept the radio off as he started the car and pulled carefully on the road.

Hoping to distract her somewhat, he went back to questions. "So Khemrys...you can shift, but you don't heal when you do? You're not a lycanthrope, are you?

[homeless_pard]

"I..." she swallowed, the speed they were moving made answering immediately a bit hard, but, he was trying to understand her so how could she deny that? "...have no idea what a lycanthrope may be?" She pronounced it carefully, though she drawled the wrong letters by accident?

Forgive her?

"I also am not certain, entire, what I may be. My father was from a the lands beyond the Dales, mother says to have met him in the Kolder war. Like he was a Were-rider, as those were the only tales I heard of those with other forms, though there are no women within those ranks."

[jasonpschuyler]

"Lycanthropes...werewolves, wereleopards, wererats..." He shook his head, "Chances are if you haven't heard of lycanthropy, you don't have it"

He frowned a bit. "I...can't say I've heard of Were-riders or Kolder wars? But I'll be the first to admit there's a lot I don't know. Where we're going there are some pretty old vamps that remember stuff that's not even in books, so if anyone can figure out what's going on, I hope it's them."

[homeless_pard]

"The wereriders are warriors from beyond the wastes, they joined the wars, men who could become beasts, in exchange for brides in the year of the Unicorn," she noted softly. "If my father was such, he was a pard, based on the sword he left." So likely hereditary, despite the female bit?

"And what, lord, is a vamp?"

[jasonpschuyler]

His head bobbed slightly in thought. "So not super different. I'm assuming you can change at will since you just did and it's not just tied to the moon?"

He hadn't questioned yet that she's a woman who can shift: it's just not an oddity in his experience. Or this "year of the Unicorn", unless if was something in the Chinese zodiac? Did they have unicorns in there? He'd have to look it up.
Vampires, however...

"Vamps, vampires." He paused, "I'm guessing you don't know what vampires are, either."

[homeless_pard]

"Aye, at will, though I must be in fur all three days of the moon," she admitted quietly. At least he did not seem disgusted by it?

Or disbelieving?

And watching his face help distract from the speeding death smears outside! "Naught by such a name no." Perhaps there would be something description reminded her of though?

[jasonpschuyler]

He seemed very casual about the whole conversation, and yes, while driving at high speeds.

"Um...Not technically alive, not technically dead, immortal, drinks blood to survive," he rattled these off as if citing a shopping list.

[homeless_pard]

She listened carefully, then blinked, "night walkers," she noted softly. "Most fall to the lefthand path, when they were known, but there are those who were old mages too powerful to truly die and thus became such, needing the vitae of the living."

[jasonpschuyler]

He became a little guarded at that, considering his words carefully. He'd had run-ins with the religious types who had very strong feelings about vampires and lycanthropes, and her words sounded eerily similar. If he brought one of them into the Circus, Jean Claude would not make it very pleasant for him.

"Lefthand path?" he asked softly in return.

[homeless_pard]

"...corrupt creatures, those that choose destruction and defilement," she blinked. "It is a choice all living beings make in their lives, and it effects the lands around them. It is easiest to scent in fur, but any with sensitivity knows when they are near such?" That was normal for her?

"You do not scent of such though, it is like that those you choose to spend time near do not walk such paths."