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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His smile widened. "And rabbits. You can find those in fancy restaurants, but they're easy enough to catch when you're hunting alone."
"People here mostly eat chicken, beef, pork, or seafood if they're eating meat. It's cheaper and more common than wild game."
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Truly.
Such a strange world. "Chooks and lopers are common in my homelands, kept easily, alongside goats."
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He shrugged. "You read about what people used to eat, you realize we're pretty spoiled now. Anything you want, any time of year. If it's not in season here, we trade with a region where it is in season. Any fruit, any vegetable, whenever you want."
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Add in the fact that lopers and chooks tended to be a singular investment and trade that renewed themselves easily, well...it just made sense to her yes. No, Jason probably wasn't going to manage to totally sway her to a sybaritic lifestyle.
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He paused for a moment, a slight smile on his lips. "Aren't you worried about eating them on the full moon, though?"
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"And why, lord, would that be an issue? If I were not capable of self control I'd not have made it far..."
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He paused, remembering the clear-eyed leopard craving words into the dirt. "You...you don't black out or anything when you shift, do you? You stay the same in your head?"
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Ah. "There is instinct, that I may move body proper as I do on two legs, but I am myself regardless?"
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He frowned slightly, considering that. "No urges when you're shifted?"
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Urges? She blinked, "naught I did not have as a woman watching her life become a cage." All urges seemed normal in that light?
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He looked at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. "I mean...what do I mean...you don't feel any overpowering urge to feed? Or hunt? When you shift, I mean."
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And it seemed his own claimed shifts (that she'd yet to witness honestly) were...harsher things with such questions asked. "To hunt and eat, yes, to supply a four footed form, but not to such degree I cannot reason." Again, she'd be dead otherwise...but probably better fed.
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He blinked, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I got caught up again. Let's get you some food before the restaurant closes shop. You're probably hungry and I'm just sitting here and talking."
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"I am patient, lord," she noted, not unkindly. Patient and as much a beggar as anything given she had naught to trade and the High Lord's guesting rights did not account truly for one not fed on blood it seemed.
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He closed the laptop and crawled gracefully off the opposite side of the bed. "I've got a change of sheets in my closet. I'll make up the bed for you. There's shirts and some sleep pants in the drawers that you can wear until we find something you like. Oh, and I'll get fresh towels for the bathroom. You can use anything in there."
Eventually they'd eat their meal and he'd have to leave, but of course he couldn't leave until he'd made the room suitable for a guest...he could probably stretch that out, right?
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"Like as not there are far more important things you are taking time from!"
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He turned with the fresh sheets just in time to see the neck of her shirt gape open slightly, pale skin gently curving from her collarbone...he blinked, darting his eyes away quickly.
"No, I've got it. You sit: you're hurt." He let smiling eyes meet hers. "Seriously, I've got it."
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...yes. She was bad at resting.
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It was a light-hearted chiding, and as they stripped the bed he fought very hard to keep from the quick glances in her direction, or the direction of that too loose neckline...
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He began tucking the fitted sheet around his side of the mattress. "I promise I'm not trying to be an ass, Khemrys. Just want you to have a chance to heal."
He offered up a smile, tossing her the corner the flat sheet to stretch over the mattress.
"I have a comb you can use. Will...will your hands be ok?" He'd be willing to help, but there was definitely a line in touching a woman's hair that he felt would be even bigger to cross with Khemrys.
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She tucked and pulled on her end of things carefully, managing to get crisp corners without tweaking her fingers overly much! "I'd not think to ever call you such lord Jason," she admitted. "It is not a failing nor misbehavior to be of very different different worlds I think." How could it be?
Ah. Hmmm. "I...do not know," she admitted quietly. "But would like to learn such? Though mayhap I should wash first."
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He looked from his corner to hers and just shook his head. Then he crossed the room, gesturing to the bathroom. "Bathroom's over here. You can have a hot bath if you want one and I can go wait upstairs for our food. If you want. We can even redo the bandages after we eat."
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