Post by Carbon Kiwi on May 29, 2011 7:46:53 GMT 10
Title: Over My Head [3]
Rating: R
Word Count: 161
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings: Violence and nudity
Summary: “We’ll just leave you here to decay.”
Notes: I really don't know.
Alaba Hemlock, blood-mage and curser of entire families, glared at the three standing Circle mages.
Briar called the thin layer of wood from the flooring alive, sending spikes into the mage’s feet and directing them to bend there; she screamed and jumped, cutting her feet open as she did so. She cried out further when she landed upon the spikes and fell back against the wall.
Daja drew a line of wire from her living-metal palm and shaped it in her mind as she did so. When it was long enough, she threw it at the woman; it roped itself around her ankles. She hurried to the back of the room, calling Sandry’s shackles and wire-ties away. The freed metal scraped across the room and held Alaba as Sandry had previously been constrained.
Alaba gasped aloud and attempted to clutch at her throat. Her face grew red.
“I’ve taken your air,” Tris said, dark and dangerous. She looked insane in the light of the spilled lantern and her own blue-white lightning. Her hair was snaking free of its confinement; wet winds orbited around the Circle mages. “Give me the vile or Daja will call for it through your skin.”
The blood-mage spat at Tris’ feet. Briar moved to attack but Tris stopped him. She stooped to pick up the little red vial the mage had previously tucked into her mouth. It glinted red and gold in Tris’ vision, and thus in the others’ as well.
“It’s my blood.” Sandry stood with Daja’s assistance and reached her hand out for the vial. “It’s how she got me here.”
Tris stared down at the tied-and-bleeding mage shackled meekly against the wall. Tris’ voice echoed with distant storms and the crackle of thunder. “We’ll just leave you here to decay.”
Rating: R
Word Count: 161
Pairing: Circlecest
Round/Fight: 4/A
Warnings: Violence and nudity
Summary: “We’ll just leave you here to decay.”
Notes: I really don't know.
Alaba Hemlock, blood-mage and curser of entire families, glared at the three standing Circle mages.
Briar called the thin layer of wood from the flooring alive, sending spikes into the mage’s feet and directing them to bend there; she screamed and jumped, cutting her feet open as she did so. She cried out further when she landed upon the spikes and fell back against the wall.
Daja drew a line of wire from her living-metal palm and shaped it in her mind as she did so. When it was long enough, she threw it at the woman; it roped itself around her ankles. She hurried to the back of the room, calling Sandry’s shackles and wire-ties away. The freed metal scraped across the room and held Alaba as Sandry had previously been constrained.
Alaba gasped aloud and attempted to clutch at her throat. Her face grew red.
“I’ve taken your air,” Tris said, dark and dangerous. She looked insane in the light of the spilled lantern and her own blue-white lightning. Her hair was snaking free of its confinement; wet winds orbited around the Circle mages. “Give me the vile or Daja will call for it through your skin.”
The blood-mage spat at Tris’ feet. Briar moved to attack but Tris stopped him. She stooped to pick up the little red vial the mage had previously tucked into her mouth. It glinted red and gold in Tris’ vision, and thus in the others’ as well.
“It’s my blood.” Sandry stood with Daja’s assistance and reached her hand out for the vial. “It’s how she got me here.”
Tris stared down at the tied-and-bleeding mage shackled meekly against the wall. Tris’ voice echoed with distant storms and the crackle of thunder. “We’ll just leave you here to decay.”