((Author's Note: There might be some slightly disturbing imagery described in this thread. The particularly squeamish may want to read with caution. Thanks!))
It was much cooler out than usual, as Lydia wandered the woods. The air was stagnant and somewhat cold, not at all like the Summer days Rhydin had been experiencing lately. The usual green grass was browning and crackled beneath her feet. The usual once lush trees were nearly naked for lack of foliage. The sky above wasn't even the radiant blue it usually was, but a mixture of creamy yellows, oranges, and reds, like a sunset frozen in time.
She was unaware of her destination, but kept pressing forward in spite of the surroundings that were both foreign and familiar to her. Limbs had grown thick, obstructing her path, but easily snapped and broke as she moved on, pushing them away as she did so. It wasn't too long before she escaped the maze of brittle trees, to chance upon a clearing.
There wasn't much at all to the clearing, besides dying grass. Still, she ventured onwards, carefully looking around the familiar place. A glint of something metallic caught her gaze, so she redirected her steps to head that way. Kneeling, she reached down to pick up the object- it was a throwing dagger, coated in crimson. A rather familiar dagger, at that...
Feeling bile rise in her throat, she quickly dropped the item before standing back up, backing from it. Her hand was still stained, however.
"You can't wipe it off, you know."
From ahead came a voice, where a leather clad woman now stood, when she wasn't there at all mere seconds ago. Her grin was malevolent, and her gaze upon the elf cruel.
"You can wash and scrub, but no matter what, that stain is permanent." She held up her hand to indicate Lydia's own - now stained in blood. "Look around you, Holy one, and look what your stained hands have wrought."
Lydia winced at the title the woman used, before hesitantly glancing to her side. "No..."
A man stood there, sword in hand, though it rested against the ground, as his hold on it was rather limp. His free hand was lifted to his abdomen, clutching at a wound that refused to stop bleeding. The stuff trickled from his mouth as well, as he gurgled and moaned. Likely trying to speak, but unable to form words. He started advancing in on Lydia, but she retained her ground, not at all moving.
"I'm sorry..." Her eyes watered as she whispered to the man, regarding him in an almost pleading manner. "I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to do it." He had stepped rather closer to her before stopping, though his gaze upon her was unrelenting, even though he didn't seem as if he was about to make a move against her. "I had to, though. You were going to kill me." Lydia's fists clenched tightly at her sides. "You were going to kill Soerl!" The accusatory scream came from her, directed both at he and the woman, who she now looked upon. "Had I not been there.. had I.. had I not.. he would be dead." It wasn't an easy admission for her to make.
"And I would live." The woman spoke simply, as she gestured to the wounded man. "And so would he. Your wolf is tainted with my blood now. He's stained. Dirty. Have you really given thought to how many he's hurt? How many he's killed? How stained his hands are? Have you really? Do you think his life is worth two lives, let alone the other lives he's snuffed?" Even as she spoke, the woman's grin never faded. "Have you forgotten what it is he has done to you?" She gestured to Lydia's arm.
Looking at her arm, she expected to see the faint scars left there from Soerl's bite, but instead saw the wound itself, just as fresh as the night he had bitten her. Gasping in surprise, she reached with her other hand to clasp a hand over it, protectively. There was no pain, however. "Soerl's a good man... none of you have a right to hunt him as you have." The words were spat out at the woman, before she glanced aside. The man was gone.
"Your wolf is about as good as you are, Holy one." Lowering her head, the woman regarded Lydia rather carefully. "But, I am not here about your wolf."
It was much cooler out than usual, as Lydia wandered the woods. The air was stagnant and somewhat cold, not at all like the Summer days Rhydin had been experiencing lately. The usual green grass was browning and crackled beneath her feet. The usual once lush trees were nearly naked for lack of foliage. The sky above wasn't even the radiant blue it usually was, but a mixture of creamy yellows, oranges, and reds, like a sunset frozen in time.
She was unaware of her destination, but kept pressing forward in spite of the surroundings that were both foreign and familiar to her. Limbs had grown thick, obstructing her path, but easily snapped and broke as she moved on, pushing them away as she did so. It wasn't too long before she escaped the maze of brittle trees, to chance upon a clearing.
There wasn't much at all to the clearing, besides dying grass. Still, she ventured onwards, carefully looking around the familiar place. A glint of something metallic caught her gaze, so she redirected her steps to head that way. Kneeling, she reached down to pick up the object- it was a throwing dagger, coated in crimson. A rather familiar dagger, at that...
Feeling bile rise in her throat, she quickly dropped the item before standing back up, backing from it. Her hand was still stained, however.
"You can't wipe it off, you know."
From ahead came a voice, where a leather clad woman now stood, when she wasn't there at all mere seconds ago. Her grin was malevolent, and her gaze upon the elf cruel.
"You can wash and scrub, but no matter what, that stain is permanent." She held up her hand to indicate Lydia's own - now stained in blood. "Look around you, Holy one, and look what your stained hands have wrought."
Lydia winced at the title the woman used, before hesitantly glancing to her side. "No..."
A man stood there, sword in hand, though it rested against the ground, as his hold on it was rather limp. His free hand was lifted to his abdomen, clutching at a wound that refused to stop bleeding. The stuff trickled from his mouth as well, as he gurgled and moaned. Likely trying to speak, but unable to form words. He started advancing in on Lydia, but she retained her ground, not at all moving.
"I'm sorry..." Her eyes watered as she whispered to the man, regarding him in an almost pleading manner. "I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to do it." He had stepped rather closer to her before stopping, though his gaze upon her was unrelenting, even though he didn't seem as if he was about to make a move against her. "I had to, though. You were going to kill me." Lydia's fists clenched tightly at her sides. "You were going to kill Soerl!" The accusatory scream came from her, directed both at he and the woman, who she now looked upon. "Had I not been there.. had I.. had I not.. he would be dead." It wasn't an easy admission for her to make.
"And I would live." The woman spoke simply, as she gestured to the wounded man. "And so would he. Your wolf is tainted with my blood now. He's stained. Dirty. Have you really given thought to how many he's hurt? How many he's killed? How stained his hands are? Have you really? Do you think his life is worth two lives, let alone the other lives he's snuffed?" Even as she spoke, the woman's grin never faded. "Have you forgotten what it is he has done to you?" She gestured to Lydia's arm.
Looking at her arm, she expected to see the faint scars left there from Soerl's bite, but instead saw the wound itself, just as fresh as the night he had bitten her. Gasping in surprise, she reached with her other hand to clasp a hand over it, protectively. There was no pain, however. "Soerl's a good man... none of you have a right to hunt him as you have." The words were spat out at the woman, before she glanced aside. The man was gone.
"Your wolf is about as good as you are, Holy one." Lowering her head, the woman regarded Lydia rather carefully. "But, I am not here about your wolf."