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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?"

He watched her hands settle back in her lap with almost regret, but she was clearly traumatized and he wasn't about to lost his mind over a touch to his cheek.
"You get to stay because you needed help. You're far from home with nothing familiar, in a very very different place than you left." He flashed a cocky smile. "And you get to stay because I invited you to, and Jean Claude said yes."

"Such is a kindness on all parts, lord," she pointed out gently. "And a rarity as such in any world I would think." Yes.

Very much so.

"Is your high lord in need of more vassals?"

He grinned. "Not too rare if you know the right people." They had more than their share of danger here, but his friends were close and they were always happy to help someone in trouble.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn't know if she had some other meaning in mind, but the only he could equate to "vassals" were more donors. Or vampires. "Um...like...?" he stammered a moment and gave up. "What are you asking? Are you...volunteering for something?"

"One hopes that the right sorts are as you say then," she chuckled softly, more sad exhaustion in the sound than mirth.

"This is a holding, yes? And there are people who do many things, yes?" she blinked. "It is best to approach a High Lord with intent to be of service if one wishes to stay within their lands, yes?"

His brow knit together as he tried to think. "Yes and no? He's the Master of St. Louis. He's the leader of his group of vampires. He has a business that's mostly run humans in the daytime, and he's been training me to kind of watch over things to make sure the day-to-day decisions are what he wants. And then there's his clubs, but that's...not for you."

He looked to the ceiling, mentally factoring the extent of Jean Claude's influence in the city. "The wolves are his to call, so they kind of have an understanding. Well, yeah, kind of. Our pack leader and Jean Claude don't really like each other." He winked at her. "Girl trouble. But you're not a wolf, so you don't have to honor that arrangement anyway."

"...ah?" Yeah, he'd lost her.

More than a bit.

But..."so you are to be his seneschal?" Raised to handle his affairs and smooth running of lands so the High Lord may focus on other matters? IT SEEMED THE MOST RELATABLE THING HE'D SAID!

Girl trouble. She had...no idea where to go with that. "Ah...they are...shield brothers whom a lady is playing off one another?"

He's just as lost at the word "seneschal". "I...guess? He trusts that I won't let them change what he's ordered. And being his pomme for as long as I have, I guess he feels I know him well enough to handle it."

He snickered at her description. "I guess you could say that." He sobered a bit, smiling sadly. "There's bad blood there. Neither of them are bad guys, but when it comes to Anita they're just ready to kill each other. Or try to make shit more difficult for everyone if it means taking a poke at the other."

"A seneschal," she agreed with a small smile "A good role for a kind man who may also know when to be firm as it aids in ensuring the High Lord need not worry at the daily aspects of his lands and his time is not wasted with such worries as may be resolved by you." And he would do well, she was certain!

"Ah...such as might be best neither had such Lady so that the lands may be at peace proper?"

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