homeless_pard | A flight long in the running...

Entry tags:

jason au,
starter

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.

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She eased up onto the far corner, expression of 'none would believe my virtue after this' very clear for a moment, swiftly followed by the tired sorrow of 'who was there left to care?'. Ah, but that was not here nor now was it?

"It is...a communication of sorts? Like unto speaking mirrors from tales, or the 'radios' the Kolder had in their machines?" It seemed as good a similie as might be achieved currently?

Oh...dear. There were some rather impractical designs in thus world weren't there?

He grinned. "Yeah, actually. A lot like that." Ish. "And if you don't like anything here, we can ask for specific clothes. Shirts, blouses...I don't see you wanting a tank top or anything like that. But if you describe what you'd like I can try to find it. Or I think I can look up fabric if you want, you just can't feel it until it gets here."

He noticed her change in expression and paused, his own expression mellowing. "You ok?"

She was back to looking at the glass in dismay really, "are there...no weavers nearby? I may walk when I heal, I can trade skill for cloth..." oh dear.

Just oh dear.

Oh. "Ah? Apologies lord, it has been...nigh on two full turns since I have been...social. There us much I had not thought on..."

"What, like bartering or something?" He smiled and shook his head. "It doesn't really work like that here. If anyone does crafting, it's more of a hobby or a side hustle. Most people go to a store where they can get everything at one go and pay for what they want."

He folded the laptop, pushing it to the side. "I'm sorry. I'm sure this is a lot to take in. Just tell me to back off, ok? You won't hurt my feelings."

He offered another friendly smile. "If you're hungry, let me know what you'd like to eat. I'll order us some food, then let you get some rest. Tomorrow I can drive you around maybe to a fabric store."

She...blinked yes. "And who makes that which others purchase?" she mused. She could do that in trade? "Rhystead...we were, as many, able to support ourselves with little to no outside aid?" So this idea that no one was doing the same here was going to...

...take her quite some time.

A fabric store was going to be an utter treasure though. He may wish to fear now.

"It would be a shame to discourage such kindness." And a potentially a travesty. "You wish to aid, my apologies that I cannot think so quickly in kind." And she truly was sorry yes. "I wouldst not think to order another cook, I am able..."

Jason opened his mouth, searching for the words. "So...most places here don't have their own, um, craftspeople or factories. Most of the shit we buy is made on the other side of the world and shipped here for sale. And most people don't have the knowledge or skill to make their own stuff."

He waved a hand helplessly. "It's kind of the same with food. The vampires don't eat food. There's no real kitchen down here. There's a microwave and a fridge, and honestly that's all most of us use. You pick up a frozen meal at the store and pop it in the microwave to heat up. Or you order out at a restaurant."

He paused, then gave a soft laugh. "I'm doing it again. Look, eventually we can get you set up in some place where you can make whatever you want, and even before that I'm sure Jean Claude won't mind you setting up by some of the big fireplaces if that's more your speed."

He met her eyes, a lot of the haziness already having cleared from his own. "But for right now, don't worry about trying to do it all yourself, ok? It's enough to just let yourself be fed and safe for a night, right?"

Blank, shocked staring. The other side o fa whole world. And unskilled people...

...even judging just on those she'd seen coming here, that was a staggering amount of...ineptitude. "They have those who require it in their lands and holdings," she reasoned a touch numbly. "It would be simple to provide, and likely quite...ah, cheap? And would ensure better meals of their own as the donors will have proper nutrition..."

Um.

Just...mind boggling and really really confused now yes. "A stew over a fire and hearth bread is fair easy, and I can ensure such for those who may wish, though a stove is more useful for most other cooking?" Granted, their ideas of stoves may differ.

More than a bit.

"...the lord is kind. I apologize if I have insulted the holdings."

He smiled. "Our worlds are very different. But I wouldn't argue against some real food provided here. Jean Claude might go for it, especially if it's a perk that brings in more donors. You a good cook, then?"

He fought the urge to pat her hand. "Not insulted at all. We just have very different ways of doing things. Basic necessities like cooking or cleaning or...clothes...we have all that simplified here so we can do other things. Things to enjoy or relax after working all day."

She considered that a moment, "I am...a better stillmistress than cook, I cannot promise food fit for feast days, but to keep a person warm and well content, yes? Fancy work with sugars and stacked cakes are beyond me, I was too oft with Dame Rimia in the stillroom learning to take such lesson from Dame Gracia before her eyesight went." It was important that she not...misrepresent her ability before him?

She wasn't sure why but...it was.

"...I was not without leisure moments, lord. The Dames were kind, until there was the new Abbess."

He raised his eyebrows. "The did the fancy bakery there? Some people take on that stuff for fun, but we definitely have to go to shops for that. But I'm sure anything you make is better than frozen dinners or Top Ramen. I can't cook at all, so I'd happily try any food you make here."

It felt surprisingly easy, just sitting and talking with her.

"Ok, I want to hear what you did for 'leisure', but I want to hear about this Abbess. Was she just a bitch to everyone?"

"Feast days were a day to showcase ability, no matter how small a holding or village," she chuckled softly. "Only Dame Gacia did such, in the Abbey, though my mother aided in the few years she lived, as fancy work of many types is often learnt by ladies of standing." Such as it were? "Frozen is a term I know, but I do not know Ramen. Is it a cut of meat?" Such that the 'top' portion was inferior?

Ah. She blinked. "Reading, embroidery, making non-necessary things in the stillroom such as new perfumes for the dames to try or scented candles..." Such were certainly leisurely, yes? "The...Abbess came when our eldest passed. She was displeased with the isolation and quiet of Rhystead, wishing for the prestige of larger places. She was...kind to those ladies of blood that came with her, the daughters learning before being wed. But she was unkind to my elderly dames, selling their small treasures for her own ends and she was unhappy with me. But these are...matters lords do not wish to worry on, and certainly not ones I have proof to hand."

"Ramen is actually really good: it's a broth with noodles and there's egg and meat and some vegetables. Top Ramen is a super cheap meal of dry noodles and a packet of seasoning. Heat some water, dump in the packet and noodles...quick cheap meal."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, one of those. So she was a bitch, just not to her favorites." Sometimes proof is overrated when dealing with people who know how to cover their ass.

"...noodles?" Not a common term in her world, and especially given the lack of cultural regions, well, she was familiar with strains of dumpling and things closer to spatzle than anything?

"...I fear that would be fair unkind the hounds as may hear such." It'd be offensive to count her a bitch when such tended toward better qualities. "And it was she that reached out to the Hunter."

"I'll show you sometime. It's...not great."

He frowned, trying to understand her meaning, and when he got it he snorted out a laugh. "That...was a really good burn! I didn't expect that from you." His eyes were bright with laughter until she continued, and it faded quickly into a much darker expression. "Wait. She sicced a hunter on you? This guy that was chasing you was doing it for her?"

'If it is not well for a meal then it is like we'll not see it again once I am able to take a hearth for you all." So there was that at least?

A burn? She seemed a touch confused at the wording but she did have the faintest hint of a smile at the amusement he showed. It melted away like snow in rain at the more somber facts though, "mayhap not her behest so much as she was willing to show him quarry? I was sent forth during a moon, so she came to the wood with the hunter and I couldst not shift."

"She knew you were a shifter, then? Is that why?"

It made him angry, but he swallowed it back. "Did they see you? How did you end up getting away?"

"Somehow," she agreed softly. "I had hidden it near a year, but I think she had one of the young ladies spy upon me..." she mused tiredly. She had spent some time wondering how and why, but honestly she'd worn out the betrayed shock long since.

"...he was riding. I took a path a horse could not," she admitted. "But he found my trail easily, I knew not how to hide such at first and I imagine I'd have been quite the trophy."

He let her speak, listening to her story, but he shook his head at the last bit. "Don't say that. He might have thought it, but don't ever call yourself a trophy."

He stopped, not meaning to sound harsh and gave her a brief, apologetic smile. "Sorry. Sore subject. So you got away but he was tracking you?"

She jumped slightly at the sternness, eyes wide and staring at is for a moment but she finally offered a small nod? She'd try?

"Aye," she sighed, looking at her bandaged fingers. "Ever on my trail, for nigh on two turns before he ran me to ground finally. I am...rather numb still to be...alive today."

"Two turns...what, like, years? Two years? That's..."

No wonder she was exhausted and bloodied.

"You have to give yourself credit. You held off a hunter for two years. That's not a small thing." He reached out, not touching her, but offering a friendly hand.

"I ran," she noted simply. "That is not holding one off, but merely being faster and willing to keep going," she admitted quietly. And rarely eat, never sleep properly, etc.

Why she wasn't sure, not that she really had a driving reason to live, but such was reality.

"And in the end I was caught. There was no escape I could see at all, I vowed to face my death as a women, then fell upon rocks as the weapon was raising."

"After two years," he answered quietly, "a lot wouldn't have been able to keep going. You did. Whether he caught you in the end or not."

He tried to catch her eyes with his. "And still, after all that, you shifted back and faced him. Knowing he was going to kill you. You don't see how much strength there is in that?"

"...I near did not," she admitted. "The one time I was in skin rather than fur, when I thought it safe...there were bandits," she admitted quietly. "Running is more fear fueled than aught else."

To say the least. She did lift bandaged fingers gently to his cheek in thanks though? "You are truly kind to see such in flight."

He felt an odd thrill at that touch, which surprised him, honestly. It was just a brush to his cheek, nothing to get worked up over.

But.

"Well," he said warmly, "You don't have to be afraid here. There's going to be a lot to get used to, but I promise we'll help. But I do want you to promise to try and rest for a bit before you go around trying to be all useful. Ok?"

It had been long and far since she had been near others, much less safe enough to relax and actually she'd...missed people. She had grown in a quiet but safe place with elderly women, and when the Young Ladies had come casual touch had died but...she had almost made a friend.

Almost.

Touch was nice.

She patted his cheek once more in thanks then settled her hands in her lap as even that light touch had made the fingers under the bandages sting, "mayhap I am still afraid. If I cannot be of use...why wouldst I be allowed to stay?"

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