Khemrys (
homeless_pard) wrote2021-12-06 10:25 pm
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A flight long in the running...
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.
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.
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Jason nodded, not bothering to voice agreement: if Jean Claude told him to go, he wasn't going to argue. But his curiosity over Khemrys ensured he would make the trip as fast as possible if he had to.
Jean Claude turned to Jason. "You say you found no sign of her pursuer?"
"Nothing. I kept watch while she rested, but I didn't see or smell anyone."
Jean Claude returned his gaze to Khemrys. "I believe it is a safe assumption that you were not followed through whatever gate brought you here, but you are welcome to our protection here until you are certain or should you decide to try to seek passage back to your realm."
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Even here.
Seek return passage? There was an honest, if tired, look of fear on her face at that statement. She had naught but the hunt to return to honestly. Mayhap that was why she had been cornered, not having any true place to aim her feet toward. "I wouldst fear the Hunter should I return," she admitted quietly. "If there is need of a Stillmistress...?" Here?
At all?
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The fear showing plainly on her face at his suggestion made him pause. "I am afraid you will find our city very different from what you left behind: there is seldom need for a stillmistress, and less so amongst my people."
He felt Jason move behind him, anxious energy building like a child's. He closed his eyes for a moment with the whisper of a smile on his lips. "But of course, you are still welcome here. I would not send back if danger awaits you. I am sure Jason will not mind offering you his room until we can find a more permanent arrangement."
"And Jason will of course be more than comfortable in the donor quarters until you are comfortably settled elsewhere," he added quickly. He knew better than to let the young wolf to his own devices, especially with a girl such as this.
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Bets indeed.
"Nor may I fight. Among my training I have sworn oaths to heal and aid." In case his lands were ever under attack?
Ah, but still...at the true offer she smiled, an expression far brighter than it seemed it should be "For the welcome of the hearth lord, my thanks. For the offer of the board, my gratitude. My skills to aid as aught I'm able whilst under the guesting." much as it had earlier with Jason and his promise the aid seemed to still and wait, reality listening intently to her own promise in kind.
That done, though, "a cot is all I may ask. None should be displaced for such as me." No, far from. "Should there mending or cooking needing I am well skilled?" If her herbcraft and simples were not needed?
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"We have many others here who will fight if needed; you would be welcome to see to their well-being in return. Those that live here rarely require a cooked meal, though." With the exception of Jason and a few others, most just used the donor rooms to rest after a feed and then went about their lives.
"And I feel you will be more comfortable with the privacy of Jason's room than in any of the other areas beneath the Circus. He will not mind." He turned slightly to address Jason without turning away from her. "Will you, my wolf?"
Jason shook his head quickly. "No, not at all."
Jean Claude smiled. "I trust we can consider the matter settled for now? Jason can show you around during the daylight hours. And Jason, be sure to introduce her to Lillian: perhaps they can make their own arrangements. I am afraid, Lady, that I must begin my evening, if Jason and I might leave you for a short while?" He'd come directly at Jason's insistence, and he was growing impatient for his breakfast.
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They would see what may come it seemed.
She actually flushed a touch, glancing at Jason, "a kindness," she noted softly. "My apology for unseating you from your home lord Jason. I will be happy to tend any in need, as well as attend your healer Lillian at any stated convenience." As a matter of course?
Yes.
"Apology for delaying you High Lord." There was that smooth, dipping curtsy again as he chose to dismiss her!
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Jason grinned brightly. "Be right there." He turned that smile back to Khemrys. "So you're staying for awhile, then? And I know Jean Claude kind of threw decisions around, but I really don't mind you taking my room. The donor rooms are just down the hall, so I'll still be here. I mean, if you need anything."
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Likewise..."how am I to know when I am needed? May I venture forth without fear here? Shouldst I report to the kitchens or the like?"
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He scanned her perched in the chair in her too-large borrowed clothing. "Maybe we can find some clothes online that you like and order them so you have something more comfortable to wear."
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Ad there was honest shock at his suggestion, "bespoke clothing? No, no lord Jason if there is cloth at all I shall have clothing worth the passing in a day..." Ah, but he was keeping the High Lord waiting, she waved her bandaged hands slightly, almost shooing, "but you are awaited."
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He would just have to explain online shopping versus the cost of the craft industry. But later.
"Ok, yeah. But...just rest. I'll be back in a bit."
He flashed a warm grin and slipped out of the room, closing the door gently and replacing the warning sock.
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She did take the time to secure the ends of the blankets through the string belt of the sweats she was wearing so the blanket draped as a proper shawl over shoulders, the better to keep modesty with such a large shirt!
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As he could barely move, he waved a thumbs up in Jean Claude's general direction.
By the time he was shuffling back to his room, he was a little more clear headed. He gave the door a gentle knock. "Khemrys, it's Jason. Can I come in?"
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Ah, but then she had run out of things she dared to do without permission so there was a "of course lord," at his soft call.
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He made for the fridge, pulling out a Gatorade and taking slow, measured sips. "I'll order some food in a bit, unless you really need to eat now?" His voice still had a faint dreamlike quality, but more like someone waking from a pleasant dream than the slurring of someone who was ill. Still, he hoped she could hold off a little bit before he had to think about food. He could order food, have a shower, and be feeling up to a meal by the time it was delivered...
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Don't mind her other hand going to his wrist to take his pulse alright? It was habit! "In your swearing and feeding unto the High Lord how much is often taken?" Enough to knock a strong and vital man on his ass apparently?
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"I'm alright. Jean Claude doesn't take too much from me: he knows I can recover pretty fast. It's just after a full feed and rolling, I just have to ride it out a bit."
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He took a breath and decided to let himself sit at her insistence. "They all have different gifts, but they can all roll you...uh, kind of, overwhelm your mind? It makes feeding more pleasant. With Jean Claude even it's even better."
He took another sip of Gatorade. "I did rest a bit..." he insisted weakly.
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Huh. "I am glad that such may be pleasant?"
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He snickered at her commment. "Me too."
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He snickered again, opening the laptop and clicking a few buttons. He eased himself over on his bed and gestured for her to come and sit, clearly still out of it enough that he didn't recognize the possible breach in etiquette. "We can look to see if there's anything you like the look of. For clothes."
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Or...connection to a strange book he was looking at in an entirely different manner than she had been read to books? "Lines I imagine make a market orderly, given how many people there seem to be here?"
At the gesture she blinked again, then eased around the foot of said furniture to espy his book as it seemed he desired?
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He clicked a few more buttons and turned the screen so she could see it better. "The internet. It's..." He faltered, realizing that he had no idea how to explain to someone like her. "This computer. It can talk to other computers all over the world. So if we want to look for, clothes, we can search and find pictures of clothes, or people selling clothes, or how to makes clothes. It's a way to share information quickly."
He made a few clicks and pointed. "Women's clothes. And this is what comes up."
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