((From the day following the Masquerade Ball))
Morning. Light filtered in through cracks at the edges of thick curtains. She found herself upon her back on an unknown sofa. The room felt to be melting, ready to swallow her whole. Izira got up quickly, exiting the room. The Great Hall. Now empty of all the revelers of the previous night. But a memory of them lingered and their ghost danced across the room before her eyes. The moving misty figures all carried black eyes and cold smiles. She carefully moved through their mass, avoiding touching any of them. Making the door to the inn, she went through it before halting in her steps.
Still dress as she had been the night before, she wore a dress done in black and white, the form of the dress fitted. The mask was likewise done in black and white, speckled with reflective metallic pieces and topped with long black feathers. Izira looked around the inn, nervous and tense?afraid of what new nightmare she had walked into this time. A man with a shaved head, long mustache and the appearance of being a warrior smiled to her and gave a soft bow of his head. Quickly Izira turned from him and the memory that boiled to the surface of her mind. Rough ropes, rough hands, cold steel. Her eyes searched the inn further, looking for a way out of that memory.
She moved towards a table, thinking to use its presence as a shield between herself and others. It was then that her hand wandered to her face and discovered the mask there. Fingertips felt out the surface of the thing with panic before twisting the mask from her face as though it was a spider suddenly found upon her person. Stepping away from the mask and the table on which it sat. Mind playing tricks on her, Izira envisioned the mask turning into a small creature and leaping at her?devouring her whole.
A glance was cast down her figure, finding it wrapped in colors like the mask. Was it some other creature devouring her or some separate part of the same? She leaned down to closely inspect the skirt of the dress. The fabric was close to her skin, too close. Sensations like man small teeth scraping at her skin invaded her mind. Izira sunk fists into the fabric of the dress, trying to tear herself free.
Scraps of white and black fabric lined the tear that she painstakingly worked at. Legs curled about her, torso twisted around, as the tear reached her knees. Fragments of the dress littered the ground. Exposed flesh covered in random little cuts and bruises. Izira slipped further into a panic as the fabric was proving troublesome, though she refused to give in. She would not allow it to overpower her. Another rip sent the tear over her knees.
Another long rip set the fabric to expose her upper leg, also a black worn slip that had seen better days. She tossed aside a chunk of fabric in her hands and set back to freeing herself from the monster. Muttering softly to the dress that had ensnared her, Izira had brought the tear to her torso where the materials became thicker and harder to get through. That fact did not stop her from trying. She clawed at it like a mad animal trying to free itself from a net. Bits and pieces of black and white from the dress were scattered about her form. Panting, softly pleading, "Please? please..."
Now there was no particular attention paid to how she was ripping the dress. All that mattered was that she got it off. Little by little more of the wron black slip underneath was exposed. As she had torn into the dress further, a hole was revealed in the side of the slip? torn out as though from a previous struggle. She was sobbing now in her panic.
Then he was at her side, "Hey, darlin'. You okay?"
She was panting through her reply, eyes streaked from the tears. "It won't come off. It won't come off."
"Gently, gently," he says quietly, reassuringly. "There's a zipper in the back... usually, you undo that and step out of it. Are you sure you want to do this here, though? It's not generally considered couth, to change your clothes in front of strangers..."
"Then where can I go? Everyone's a stranger. Faces always changing.", was said as she started sobbing into her hands.
"Well, there are rooms upstairs. Should I take you to one?"
She looked up at him with wide pleading eyes, "Is it safe there?"
He nods, firmly. "As safe as you like."
"Okay, okay." She looked around then back to him. "Yes, please take me."
"Half a sec..." He said, moving away. Izira watched the emptiness where he had stood. By the time he returned she was peering at the space from the tight ball she had curled into. "Alright, when you're ready?" He offers his arm. She looked up at him like a frightened kitten. Did he want her to move? To stand?
It seemed so as gently, he takes her arm and helps her to her feet. As she was lifted panic ensued in her mind. She tried to climb upon Pal and curl up in a ball at the same time. Her effort winning out as the man held her and carried her towards the stairs as she clung fearfully to him for protection. Muttering under her breath, she tried to stay as curled-up as possible in his arms.
He reached the top of the stairs, moving to the room and working the key into the door. The sound of the door sliding open made Izira jump and cling tighter to the man that hold her.
Inwards the two went.
Morning. Light filtered in through cracks at the edges of thick curtains. She found herself upon her back on an unknown sofa. The room felt to be melting, ready to swallow her whole. Izira got up quickly, exiting the room. The Great Hall. Now empty of all the revelers of the previous night. But a memory of them lingered and their ghost danced across the room before her eyes. The moving misty figures all carried black eyes and cold smiles. She carefully moved through their mass, avoiding touching any of them. Making the door to the inn, she went through it before halting in her steps.
Still dress as she had been the night before, she wore a dress done in black and white, the form of the dress fitted. The mask was likewise done in black and white, speckled with reflective metallic pieces and topped with long black feathers. Izira looked around the inn, nervous and tense?afraid of what new nightmare she had walked into this time. A man with a shaved head, long mustache and the appearance of being a warrior smiled to her and gave a soft bow of his head. Quickly Izira turned from him and the memory that boiled to the surface of her mind. Rough ropes, rough hands, cold steel. Her eyes searched the inn further, looking for a way out of that memory.
She moved towards a table, thinking to use its presence as a shield between herself and others. It was then that her hand wandered to her face and discovered the mask there. Fingertips felt out the surface of the thing with panic before twisting the mask from her face as though it was a spider suddenly found upon her person. Stepping away from the mask and the table on which it sat. Mind playing tricks on her, Izira envisioned the mask turning into a small creature and leaping at her?devouring her whole.
A glance was cast down her figure, finding it wrapped in colors like the mask. Was it some other creature devouring her or some separate part of the same? She leaned down to closely inspect the skirt of the dress. The fabric was close to her skin, too close. Sensations like man small teeth scraping at her skin invaded her mind. Izira sunk fists into the fabric of the dress, trying to tear herself free.
Scraps of white and black fabric lined the tear that she painstakingly worked at. Legs curled about her, torso twisted around, as the tear reached her knees. Fragments of the dress littered the ground. Exposed flesh covered in random little cuts and bruises. Izira slipped further into a panic as the fabric was proving troublesome, though she refused to give in. She would not allow it to overpower her. Another rip sent the tear over her knees.
Another long rip set the fabric to expose her upper leg, also a black worn slip that had seen better days. She tossed aside a chunk of fabric in her hands and set back to freeing herself from the monster. Muttering softly to the dress that had ensnared her, Izira had brought the tear to her torso where the materials became thicker and harder to get through. That fact did not stop her from trying. She clawed at it like a mad animal trying to free itself from a net. Bits and pieces of black and white from the dress were scattered about her form. Panting, softly pleading, "Please? please..."
Now there was no particular attention paid to how she was ripping the dress. All that mattered was that she got it off. Little by little more of the wron black slip underneath was exposed. As she had torn into the dress further, a hole was revealed in the side of the slip? torn out as though from a previous struggle. She was sobbing now in her panic.
Then he was at her side, "Hey, darlin'. You okay?"
She was panting through her reply, eyes streaked from the tears. "It won't come off. It won't come off."
"Gently, gently," he says quietly, reassuringly. "There's a zipper in the back... usually, you undo that and step out of it. Are you sure you want to do this here, though? It's not generally considered couth, to change your clothes in front of strangers..."
"Then where can I go? Everyone's a stranger. Faces always changing.", was said as she started sobbing into her hands.
"Well, there are rooms upstairs. Should I take you to one?"
She looked up at him with wide pleading eyes, "Is it safe there?"
He nods, firmly. "As safe as you like."
"Okay, okay." She looked around then back to him. "Yes, please take me."
"Half a sec..." He said, moving away. Izira watched the emptiness where he had stood. By the time he returned she was peering at the space from the tight ball she had curled into. "Alright, when you're ready?" He offers his arm. She looked up at him like a frightened kitten. Did he want her to move? To stand?
It seemed so as gently, he takes her arm and helps her to her feet. As she was lifted panic ensued in her mind. She tried to climb upon Pal and curl up in a ball at the same time. Her effort winning out as the man held her and carried her towards the stairs as she clung fearfully to him for protection. Muttering under her breath, she tried to stay as curled-up as possible in his arms.
He reached the top of the stairs, moving to the room and working the key into the door. The sound of the door sliding open made Izira jump and cling tighter to the man that hold her.
Inwards the two went.