| | Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] | |
| | Forfatter | Besked |
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| Emne: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Lør Aug 29, 2020 7:42 pm | |
| Time and date: Around 1am, the 28th of august 2020 Place: St. Anne’s Ward for Mentally Unstable Women, Lancaster
It had taken a while to wake up this time. Usually, she would wake up with the light of the rising sun - stretching her hand out to play with the sun rays. This room had no sun, no light of the morning. No light at all, actually - unless you counted that terribly cold and blinding lamp in the ceiling, made from exposed LED tubes. Every time they turned them on, they would hum and give her a pounding headache. Her limbs felt like they hadn’t been moving for the past day or so. They were sore, her mouth was dry, and her head felt heavy. It almost felt like being hungover, but instead of a night of fun, it had been a night of her mind being torn to pieces time and time again. ’’It’s time to wake up, miss Dumor!’’ a woman declared, as the humming light in the ceiling got turned on and revealed what was the same old room. For a month, she had been there - being told the same things over and over, by the same doctor. ‘’Wha… What time is it?’’ Cassandra asked, but the woman didn’t answer her. Instead, Cassandra could hear exactly what was about to happen, as they rolled in the cart. They had been playing favorites. Usually, inmates - or patients as they called them - would be undergoing a different arrangement of treatments. Ice baths, pressure chambers, insulin therapy, electroshock therapy… The first week, they had tried to do the same with her; the different treatments. Then, they suddenly decided that she wasn’t benefitting from the other treatments, and that electroshock worked out the best. She opened her eyes, trying to turn her head to look at the cart, but even that took too much energy. With no sunlight, she had a hard time recharging her energy and magic fully. She could barely stay awake most of the time, let alone focus on speaking. She felt how Vaseline was spread on her temples, before the electrodes were mounted in place. Then, the taste of leather, as her mouth was being forced open to fit in a mouth guard - which only were used because of the issue of being sued if she were to end up loosing her tongue. She wasn’t there to die, after all. She was just there to be shut up. The voices grew distant again, as pain surged through her body. She counted the seconds, but lost count after twenty. It happened most of the time. As they turned off the machine, pulled out the leather strap from her tightened jaw and removed the electrodes, all she could do was to gasp for air. Then, as they realized she still was awake, they decided to switch things up. ’’Let’s make an ice bath for miss Dumor. She looks like she could use some time in the water.’’ the doctor said, just before they left the room; rolling out the cart with the squeaky wheels. She looked up at the ceiling, straight onto the humming lamp. It felt like hours, when she was laying there, waiting for them to come get her. She had learned the hard way not to fight back. A partial dragon with all heat removed from her body was sure to die within the next daybreak... She didn’t hear them come in; the male nurses. It was only them who were allowed to bring her places, due to them being stronger than her. Usually, it would be hard to keep a witch contained, but after a while of draining her magic and energy, it wasn’t an issue. The opened the straps that kept her fixated to the bed, before one of them lifted her up in his arms. He smelled like some cheap ass cologne mixed with sweat. She could smell coffee on his breath, but the cheap kind that you bought freeze dried. She was carried to the baths, and placed in a tub filled with salt water and ice blocks. She wanted to scream out, but doing so only resulted in added time in the tub. That she had learned the hard way as well. Trying to end it by drowning yourself wasn’t an option, as they kept rotating guards to make sure the inmates didn’t do anything stupid. There was no way out of there, unless a doctor signed the forms stating you were sane. It had yet to ever be seen… As she laid in the tub, shivering, all she could do was to repeat the same phrase she had done over and over again for what seemed like forever. She didn’t count on him hearing her - he had his own issues to deal with - but it made her feel safer just to mention his name. She wasn’t religious, and the guards knew that. They thought it to be a futile attempt at keeping herself sane, which clearly faulted. ‘’I do not expect you to listen. I do not expect you to care. I just pray that you are safe and well…’’ she silenced for a moment, as she had done every time that she recited those words. ‘’I will get out of here, but I need your help. I need your guidance to show me that there is a way out… I need you to show me that I’m not lost; that I’m not forgotten… Please, Michael.’’ She mumbled through her rattling teeth. As soon as the nurse decided that she had been soaking in the icy waters for long enough, she was lifted out of the tub and almost thrown back into her room. The male nurse from earlier, with the cheap-ass-coffee breath, fixated her to the bed once more. Her white dress, which most likely was the same se had been wearing ever since she was admitted, was soaked after she had worn it in the tub. They never cared to undress her - she didn’t matter much anyway. No pillow, no blanket. She was left in the darkness, shaking from the cold, and her eyes searching for a spec of light. There was none... Once again, she did the only thing she knew they wouldn’t punish her for; she recited her little chant - a prayer, if you could call it that - to Michael. She knew he was busy, and she wasn’t expecting him to even consider having time for her. After all, she usually handled her own messes in some way. This time, however, she was without help. Her fiancé and her best friend didn’t know where she was - how could they when she had been taken from her bed in the middle of the night? She had no way to contact them - and surely, they would just barge in to get her out of there… How well that would go, she couldn’t calculate. There was no way out. Not this time. All she wanted was for a familiar face to appear and tell her it was okay to let go. It was all she needed. Although her chant for her friend seemed genuine, she knew she wasn’t lost, or forgotten. She knew they were looking for her, her friends. Still, it had always been Mike she called for and prayed to when in need. She needed her friend, her faith, how stupid it might end sound.
Sidst rettet af Cassandra Lør Aug 29, 2020 10:46 pm, rettet 1 gang |
| | | Michael
Antal indlæg : 652
| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Lør Aug 29, 2020 10:09 pm | |
| He watched as the room started to spin from his swirling thoughts. He had laid there for two hours with his gaze on the ceiling, trying to get a bit of a night's rest. However, it was seldom a good idea. It was like an invitation for all his worries to invade his mind. He exhaled deeply before he closed his eyes, going from emptiness to a profusion of images. He tried listening to prayers directed to him, from a young boy asking for strength to stand up to a bully, to a frightened soldier in the middle east. And there were always many voices, overlapping one another. But it’d get very quiet if he wanted it so, however before he shut them off, he heard a familiar female voice. I need your help… I need you to show me that I’m not lost; that I’m not forgotten… Please, Michael. That voice. It felt as if it grabbed a hold of him. And with it followed a deep sense of worry. He sat up in the bed, grabbing the nearest pair of black slacks before he got up to his dresser, and found a white shirt that he put on. He tucked the shirt inside of his trousers before he put on his belt. Lastly, he hid one of his knives in his sock. He then closed his eyes again, trying to localize her prayer, and when he did, he teleported to her without hesitation.
He arrived in the corner of a dark room, looking around it for a moment only to realize that it had no windows. His gaze then fell to Cassandra. She was tied up to a bed in what appeared to be a soaked dress the way it clung onto her body, and before even saying anything, he held up a hand to manipulate the temperature in the room and a warm breeze to flow over her, so her wet hair and dress would dry. He slowly neared her, and at the same time he dimly lit up his aura in the darkness so he'd appear clearly visible to her. “It’s okay. I’m right here,” he said. He carefully grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze to let her know that she wasn’t imagining him. He had not forgotten her. And if he had known that she was here, he'd come much sooner. It didn't take a genius to realize that this was a godforsaken place. The kind of place that didn’t care for the well-being of its patients and most likely conducted evil and cruel experiments disguised as treatments. He had no idea why she was here, nor how it had happened, but he was just happy for her reaching out to him. Otherwise, who knew how much longer she'd stay here. “What has happened to you?” he asked, looking at her face with a concerned expression. He feared that she’d been here for a long time. And that her condition inevitably had gotten worse because of this. But he still had hope that she’d just arrived and that it hadn’t gotten that bad. Even if he had a feeling of that being wishful thinking. |
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| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Lør Aug 29, 2020 10:44 pm | |
| It was easy to tell when Michael was near. Forget about the dim light from his aura, or the warming breeze that dried her off instantly - her heart was pounding like a drum that almost deafened her to other sounds but just that. The mate bond did often frustrating things to her, but in this moment she felt alive. It was the most blessed feeling one could ever experience, she thought to herself. Although he had heated the air around them a good amount, she was still cold from being chilled for so long. As a partial dragon, she would need time to recover; time to regain the heat in her body. Once again, she wanted to turn her head to look at him, but her head was fixated as well. They wouldn’t take any chances with a biter. ‘’Long time no… See.’’ She said, stumbling over the phrase as she tried to remember it completely. Come on, it wasn’t easy to form sentences when your brain had gotten fried over and over again - which surely was quite easy to tell by the marks on her temples. She didn’t suffer from any physical trauma, per say. No fingernails were missing, which usually was the case when she was being harmed. She didn’t have bruises, besides where needles were used to inject insulin into her veins to have her suffer from hypoglycemia and make her feel like she was dying over and over again. She had slight frostbite here and there, but nothing extreme. The worst marks she had seemed to be at least a couple of days old, and those where from her struggling with the straps that kept her fixated in the first place. After a while, she had realized how futile it was to fight it, since they just tightened them even more after the first time she got out of hem. He asked what had happened to her, but even though she noticed the concerned expression on his face, it was har for her to figure out what he asked. Fried brain-syndrome. ‘’I… I was being a… A bad girl.’’ She finally answered. Even though he held her hand, she wasn’t really able to feel it. She knew he was there, because every time she had imagined either one of her friends there, it had been happy reunions. This was not like what she had imagined. Not at all. To make matters worse, far worse, she wasn’t able to control her abilities once drained beyond measure. Where she usually would try to prevent what was about to unfold, she now had no choice but to accept that whatever he saw would be something she would be haunted by later on. It felt like minutes, where darkness once again swallowed both of them while dragging him down into the memory. Like always, he would be an onlooker while she would be reliving the whole thing once more. At what a memory to relive…
How many days had she been there? Two? Five? Eleven?... She wasn’t sure. Not anymore. No sun to guide her; no stars, no moon… She felt lost at sea, with only the humming light from the ceiling telling her that she was still imprisoned. She was still kept like an animal in a cage. Fixated to the bed, she tried to turn her head as she heard the door to her cell open. You couldn’t mistake that sound. It was loud and noisy, the hinges of the door needed to be oiled. The door itself scraped across a part of the laminate floor, making chills run down her spine. They kept the cell itself cooled. They dropped it a degree every time she misbehaved. She wouldn’t die of the hypothermia - but she wouldn’t be able to keep awake neither. Right now, she had been a good girl. She had taken her treatments without trouble, but the night shift-guard had made sure that she would get in trouble regardless. It was easy to tell it was him, even without the lights being turned on. It didn’t take much; one sniff of his bodily odor revealed him. Mostly piss, semen and blood. He had a tendency to abuse the inmates. Either physically, by beating them until they weren’t able to scream anymore, or by raping them. It was the first time he had dared to enter Cassandra’s cell, and with good reason; she was known for fighting back. The only problem was that her cell was too cold. She couldn’t fight back; she wasn’t even able to move! In the darkness, suddenly a light appeared. It was warmer than the one she was used to, and it didn’t hum. Instead, it moved around like the source of it also moved. A flashlight. She tried to get a look at the guard, but he directed the light against the straps used to fixate her ankles to the bed. He undid the straps, which made her pull her legs up to her waist, but the guard grabbed her legs and pulled her down to a point where she was resting with her lower back against the edge of the bed; her arms stretched out to a point where she couldn’t move because of them still being fixated. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t move. Then, he opened his belt, which told Cassandra just what he was after. And he wasn’t going to get it. Her breathing accelerated as she tried to move away, and the guard came closer, telling her to stay the fuck still or he would bash in her skull. She went from struggling to move away, to whimpering as he grabbed her by the hip. As soon as he raised her leg to gain better access, she pulled her leg to her and with all the force she was physically able to use, she kicked him on the nose with her heel. He yelped and moved backwards, only to stumble over his opened pants and fall backwards into the wall, leaving a hole in the back of his head. Now, with blood streaming down from his broken nose and the wound on the back of his head, the guard was furious. In one solid move, Cassandra pulled her arm free - in the process breaking her wrist in a loud crushing sound, before she held out her palm towards the guard. Suddenly, he was standing still with his eyes rolling back into his head and blood running from his nose and inside his mouth, choking him. She hated to use blood magic that way. It felt horrible each time, as she could feel everything that happened to him. Moments later, he was dead, and she collapsed next to the bed with her right hand still fixated to the bed and the left hand sitting in a unnatural position. Her breathing had gone from accelerated, to whimpering, to know being a quiet sobbing, and she curled up and couldn’t take her eyes form the corpse who was staring at her with empty eyes.
As they emerged from the memory once more, her sobbing hadn’t silenced. Still fixated to the bed, her eyes were fixed at a point in the ceiling where the humming lamp usually would light up. Her chest moved up and down in a quickened pace, as she tried to prevent herself from hyperventilating. The hand he was holding - or had been holding, if he had let go of her - was the one she had crushed to smithereens to be able to use magic in the memory. Now, it was obvious why it looked like someone had been beating it with a hammer. She was thankfully a witch, so her self-healing wouldn’t be too slow - yet it still looked like it would take at least a week for the hand to return to a more usable state. Usually, she tried to keep a composure. She tried to seem like she had things under control, that she at least had some element of control in her life. Honestly, she never had been good at anything but getting into messes where others would be needed to help her out of them again. This time was no different. There she was, fixated to a fucking bed, sobbing like some toddler that had been told ‘no’ for the first time. Pathetic.
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| | | Michael
Antal indlæg : 652
| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Søn Aug 30, 2020 6:47 pm | |
| He looked into her eyes as she’d said it’d been a long time, and if it wasn’t due to the circumstances he would have nearly smiled. Instead, his expression remained stoic. His gaze then moved to the marks on her temples, revealing one of their treatments. Electroshock therapy. But why? How had things gotten this bad? And how had anyone placed her here in the first place? It didn’t make any sense. He furrowed his brows as she replied to his question. She had been a bad girl. It didn’t exactly explain much, but who was he to expect a detailed explanation? Her mind had to be a mess at this point. So, he just nodded to her reply and gently brushed his thumb across her hand, calmingly caressing her as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. However, he was quickly interrupted as his mind got overtaken by darkness, making him close his eyes. And when he opened them again, he was standing in the cell once more. But he was seeing things differently, and he knew that he'd been dragged into one of her memories.
He darted his eyes to the door as it opened with a screechy sound. And then a flashlight was turned on, making him narrow his eyes to get a better look at the guard. Michael watched as he undid her straps, and he reached his hand forward, wanting to block the man from touching her, but there was nothing he could do. The guard pulled her down with ease. His intentions were repugnant, and the thought of what he was about to do made him sick to his stomach. Michael glared at him as he felt the rage surge through his veins. He despised men like him. And in his mind, he wasn't a man at all. He was a monster. When he pulled up her leg, he wanted to close his eyes, but before doing so, she pulled it back and kicked him in the face. He felt a rush of relief at this, seeing the guard trip back into the wall, but the relief was quickly replaced with agitation. Because he knew that he'd want her to pay for that action and that he'd do much worse than first intended. Cassandra then managed to free one of her hands from the strap, breaking her wrist in the process before she used her blood magic to choke the guard. How she did it, he had no idea. But sometimes people found incredible strength in the worst of situations. She then collapsed, and Michael felt awful from seeing her this way. All alone. Undergoing this immense suffering. In their time apart, he had prayed many times for her happiness, yet it seemed that she was in the loop of excruciating horrors. And now this, to end up in the very place that she’d feared ending up in. An asylum. It didn’t get much more torturous than that.
Emerging from the memory, Michael quickly undid her restraints and pulled his arms around her in an embrace. One hand was placed on the back of her head and one on her lower back. He held her tightly against his chest, hoping it would ease even the slightest of her suffering. “It’s okay. Just let it out,” he said while he silently thanked God for letting him hear her prayer. He then slowly pulled away to look at her face, gently placing a hand against her cheek to brush away the tears with his thumb. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore,” he promised before removing his hand from her face to her shoulder. He then moved his other arm around her waist and teleported them inside his bedroom in the bunker. He guided her to lay down on the king-sized bed before he turned on the bedside lamp. Giving the room a warm, amber hue. He then walked out to the hallway, inhaling a sharp breath as flashes of her memory kept reappearing in his mind. He continued toward his medical cabinet to take out a small vial of potion. It was created by a hybrid who owned a small healing clinic. She was someone he’d often come to for help throughout his time in England. He also poured water into an empty glass before he returned to the room. He placed the water on the bedside table nearest her before he handed her the open vial of the potion, gently placing it against her lips. “Drink this,” he said. It would help her heal all physical injuries, as well as relieve her of some of the emotional trauma, making it seem like a more distant memory than what it was in reality. |
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| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Søn Aug 30, 2020 7:49 pm | |
| Just let it out. Those words made no sense to her. Letting it out would be the same as unleashing that inner demon of hers that wanted to scream like a banshee and tear soul from body. With his arms around her, she wanted to pull away. She didn’t want to be touched - not by him; not by anyone. She had been touched far too much against her will in what seemed like months on end. Her breathing changed significantly as he just kept her there for a moment - but not for the better. It was almost as if she hyperventilated, just from him keeping her in his arms. Her body knew she was safe with him; the mate bond made sure for her to know it. Yet her mind kept telling her that regardless of what she thought to be safe, nothing really was. He could, just as well as anyone else in that wretched place, hurt her immensely. With the tears still streaming down her face, her sobbing quiet down to being with no sound - but it was very clear that just because there was no sound, it didn’t mean that she had stopped sobbing at all. As he looked at her, wiping away tears with his thumb, new ones just replaced them. It would take a while before her tears would dry out and be replaced by rage - but it was sure to happen. And when it did, the asylum along with its staff was sure to meet their demise in the most painful way she could ever conjure. Even though he placed an arm around her waist, she had a hard time standing when he teleported them back to his bedroom in the bunker. It was a room she had yet to see, which made her rather uncertain about where they were. From the dimmed amber light to the mountain air which she had grown to love from the last time she was at the bunker, she realized they were back at Gaia. They weren’t in Lancaster anymore. At first, she wanted to chuckle in relief, but she couldn’t. she couldn’t even find it in her to smile. Instead, as he guided her to the bed, she sat down. Had he tried to make her lay down, he would have noticed that she had no intentions of doing so. She had spent who knew how long time fixated to a bed. The last thing she wanted, regardless of her state, was to lay down once more. Her muscles were weak and her joints stiff. Her hand, although still traumatized, didn’t hurt as much as it used to. One thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t going back there. Still, her whole being trembled by the thought, as he left her alone in the room. She felt how the shadows mocked her, laughed at her for being so feeble and weak. Every last bit of fire in her had been on the verge of being put out, which had left her pale and bland to look at. Had it not been for her amber eyes with golden specs, she could have been mistaken for a ghost or a corpse. As Michael returned with a glass of water and a vial with some potion she couldn’t quite judge by its appearance, she was sitting at the edge of the bed with her feet solidly planted on the floor. She needed to feel the ground beneath her to make sure she wasn’t spinning in a bottomless pit. As he placed the vial against her lips, it was quite evident she didn’t want to do as he said. Although he said it with the most sincere and gentle tone of voice, all she could hear was the times a nurse had screamed in her ear for her to take her daily dose of some horrid mixture of pills or potions - and what the punishment would be if she denied it. She turned her head to the side, ever so slightly, which in turn also resulted in the vial no longer being pressed gently onto her lips. ‘’No more..’’ She said, as she looked at the lamp which filled the room with the warm light. ‘’No more medicine..’’ she then mumbled as she reached out for the lamp, just to feel the warmth it radiated. She new he meant it well - after all, it was Michael. He could be an arse - a holy moron - at times, but he had never tried to harm her intentionally. She knew that, deep down. Still, a beaten dog had a hard time trusting any human. Her eyes didn’t flicker from the lamp - almost as if she was hypnotized by it. It felt so surreal seeing the warm light, when all she had been staring at for the past months had been a cold and humming LED light in the ceiling. She did look remarkably well, compared to other girls who had been kept at the asylum. Many of them had lost an eye, a hand or their tongue. She was lucky, she had been told. Lucky that her family just wanted her to stay there - not die. Of course they didn’t want her to be killed in that place! They knew she would come back, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorn. She would rain hellfire upon them all for letting her suffer. Not that she would ever tell Michael about that - he wouldn’t allow her to speak in such ways. He was too holy and too close to his God to understand such hatred. Or, so she told herself. She didn’t really now. Suddenly she realized something - something that was blatantly obvious, and yet she hadn’t thought of it until that moment. She was safe. She wasn’t at the asylum. Of course, she had known that ever since he teleported her - but it hadn’t been until now it clicked in her mind. ‘’I… I used blood… Blood magic. I didn’t… Ask for permission.’’ She said, furrowing her brows every time she searched for the words. It was almost as if she had lost the ability to string together words into a sentence. ‘’You have to… Be granted permission… To use it…’’ she then continued, still looking at the light by the bedside. ‘’Our crone, she… She decided that I was… A bad girl.’’ She sighed, although the sigh wasn’t really anything to judge by. Her words seemed cold and flat - almost as if every little feeling behind them had vanished into thin air. ‘’Bad girls gets locked… Away. Mommy was a bad… Girl.. Too.’’ She said. Arumia, her mother, had died in an asylum. Locked away and electroshocked until her brain gave up. It wasn’t until Cassandra’s father, Arumia’s mate, had shown up that the almost braindead witch had given up on life and perished. The same fate had been decided for Cassandra; to perish at an asylum. And for that, her family - the coven - would pay costly. Once she regained her strength, that was. For now, she was as worthless as a ragdoll.
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| | | Michael
Antal indlæg : 652
| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Tirs Sep 01, 2020 7:21 pm | |
| He sighed as she turned her head, refusing to take the potion that would help her heal and forget the traumas she’d suffered. He knew that the asylum had tempered with her mind quite a lot for making her go against her instincts caused by his angelic aura and the mate bond, telling her that this potion was trustworthy. But he didn’t want to force anything, so he simply put the cork back inside the vial and placed it on the bedside table near the glass of water. He saw how she reached for the lamp, not sure if it was the heat or the warmer light that appealed to her. But she didn’t seem cold, so he assumed it was the different light that enchanted her. She then spoke again, and he returned his eyes to her face, listening patiently to what she said. It didn’t take him many moments to realize the reason for her being at the asylum. That it was her own family who had put her there. Exactly like they had done with her mother. And he'd always believed her mother to have been crazy when in reality the story had been quite different. It was apparent that the asylum was where her family sent people when they considered them bad to the coven. He just looked at her for a moment as he processed this new information, and his first intuition was to look up the coven to hunt the crone down, but it had to wait, as he wasn’t going to leave Cassandra alone at this moment. “That’s not true… you used it for good when you saved Malachi,” he reminded her. After all, she had used blood magic in that regard as well. And he hoped to his father that this hadn’t been the spell that had put her there and that it was something else entirely. Still, he didn’t like to think of Cassandra as someone using blood magic for evil. Even if he knew that it was very likely considering her profession. He walked over to the desk to grab the chair from his desk, moving it closer to her and turning it around before he sat down, facing her. “What did you do, Cassandra?” he asked her as he leaned forward with folded hands in his lap. He wanted to know what she’d done without permission. What it was that made her family so furious that they only deemed her worthy of such a cruel fate. |
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| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Ons Sep 02, 2020 3:02 pm | |
| Usually, she would have found the situation ridiculous. She could handle herself - she didn’t need to be cared for like some toddler or disabled individual. Still, as she sat there, she was just that. She was incapable of protecting and caring for herself. She had wished far too many times to just die so that she could return and be rid of every little thing that seemed to make her life even more difficult. In reality, things only got difficult when she broken the rules - either those made by the coven or those that went unsaid in life. She had never been good with rules. As she had explained why she ended up there - that she had been a bad girl - Michael objected. She had used blood magic to save his son. Or, to locate him, at least. Had he known the whole story, it would have been easier for her to tell him why just that would be enough to have someone trialed for treason in the coven… As he got up and placed himself on a chair in front of her, she turned her head to look at him. Her movements were minute; calculated down to the last increment of a pose. What did she do? What had she done, that would make her own kin turn against her and lock her up? ‘’I..’’ She started, before she narrowed her eyes once more to consider her choice of words. ‘’I have done so many things…’’ she finally said - rather surprised that the partial sentence made it past her lips. ‘’I’m helping… An angel… I’m… marrying a werewolf… I’m using blood magic on a whim…’’ she said, as she looked straight into his eyes. ‘’My mate is… not a witch. And I haven’t… Even tried… To kill you.’’ She added, before she shook her head slightly. She had never agreed on that idea - that mates weren’t allowed to be anything but witches. It just seemed so wrong to her. Could he tell how angry she was, even without the tone in her voice? Could he see it - sense it? Even though her toneless voice bared no emotions, surely he could sense just how angry she was. Angry, and sad. Her grandmother, their crone, had just introduced her to her half-brother, and now this? Just as Cassandra thought she was being accepted, despite her father not being a witch, something like this happened. Although, this time she had gone too far. There was no turning back - Cassandra was going to get her revenge; and true to her nature, it would be bloody and scorching. |
| | | Michael
Antal indlæg : 652
| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Lør Sep 05, 2020 9:41 pm | |
| Truth was, as much as he’d like to think that he knew Cassandra, there were still so many uncovered truths to her life and past that he had no clue about. And there were about a million more for her to know about him as well. But he couldn’t quite figure out what it was exactly that made her family despise her to this extent. She then explained some of the reasons. And he understood that using blood magic without permission could get her in trouble – but helping an angel with a localization spell? Now, that seemed a bit far-fetched in his opinion. However, he quickly forgot this as she talked about her needing to kill her mate if he wasn’t a witch. He narrowed his eyes as she said this. After all, fate had chosen otherwise, and shouldn’t they at least accept that? And even if they couldn’t, she’d proved that she was able to live with him being a minimal part of her life and that she could love someone else, so it was hardly that big of an issue compared to the others mentioned. He nodded slowly when she was done explaining herself, looking at the empty wall behind her as he thought about everything. He could only imagine how furious and disappointed she was at her family for what they’d put her through. At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if the localization spell had been the last straw. “You didn’t deserve any of this, Cassandra,” he said before he returned his green eyes to her. “Try not to worry about it... for now, what's important is that you recover,” he said, moving his gaze from her to the vial on the bedside table, hoping that she'd take it as it would vastly aid her recovery, and all he wanted was for her to feel better. “Do you need anything? Otherwise, perhaps you should try to get some sleep?” he suggested as he moved his gaze back to her. |
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| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Man Sep 07, 2020 9:36 pm | |
| Even though they were friends, and currently bound to each other with some bond one thought to be destiny and the other thought to be some cruel trick of fate, they knew so little about each other. She loved Michael, and she would go through flames of Hell to get to him, but even the love she felt could not be used to make her follow his advice and stay out of trouble. Trouble did, quite simply, have a way of finding her. She could not outrun it. ‘’In their eyes… I did.’’ she answered, as he had stated that she did indeed not deserve any of what had happened to her. For some reason, an angel telling her what she deserved or not, it didn’t seem right. Even though he actually seemed to have the opinion that she had been punished way too harshly for her actions. ‘’I don’t want to sleep… I’ve been asleep for… Far too long.’’ she admitted. Honestly, she was terrified of falling asleep and waking up back in Lancaster. She couldn’t go back there - she would perish. She looked down at the floor beneath them for a moment. ‘’I’m sorry..’’ she finally said, before she looked back at him with her amber eyes. ‘’I should have told you… About m-my family, a long time ago.’’ she then said. She hadn’t been finding it necessary to warn him about the Dumor-witches. What were they to do, try to kill an archangel? Even they weren’t that stupid - or, at least she didn’t think so. ‘’My mother… She fell in love with her mate - my father… She ran away with him - eloped. He had a temper and.. He once accidentally hurt her badly… She was in the hospital, he left her to protect her… She always blamed me for that - even though I wasn’t even born yet.’’ she sighed, as she looked down at her hands. ‘’When a mate rejects a witch, the witch will wither and die… Since he just left, and didn’t reject her up front, it took two decades for her to finally find peace.. My family, they… They locked her up, when I left… It killed her in the end. For me to… To be back there, where she faded away… With they same look in her eyes as Mala-…’’ she shook her head, exhaling deeply. she shouldn’t be talking about his son in that way - not now, not ever. ‘’My bloodline is a mess. My predecessors are psychopathic and cruel beings… I’m only half their flesh and blood, so I am not worthy of being a Dumor in their eyes..’’ she said, as she really pushed herself to form a coherent sentence. ‘’It’s them, or me… They made that clear. Painfully clear.’’ she finally said, before she looked back at the lamp. She needed the heat and light it provided to recover, more than any potion. ‘’I… I dont want you to get dragged into it. I need you to know that.’’ she then mumbled, before she turned her head, making her neck give a loud snap. She had been way to stiff for long enough. |
| | | Michael
Antal indlæg : 652
| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Lør Sep 12, 2020 4:56 pm | |
| He didn’t understand why she felt the need to apologize for not having told him about her family, wondering what it was that she hadn’t told him, exactly. He knew that her mother had decided to be with her mate, however, he far from understood why she would blame his abusive behavior on her unborn daughter, but he let that thought go as she continued. He also knew that he had rejected her, and today he’d gotten to know that it was her family who had locked her up in the asylum. She then mentioned that her predecessors were psychopathic and cruel, which of course, wasn’t so hard to believe considering the things she’d been through. “What do you mean, them or you?” he asked, not really following her story at that point, although there had seemed to be quite a few missing pieces in it. However, he understood if she couldn’t explain it as she still seemed to have a hard time forming sentences. And maybe it wouldn’t make much of a difference if she did. He got the point. Her family despised her and were more than inclined to act cruel and careless.
He kept his gaze with her as she looked at the lamp. And when she said that she didn’t want him to be dragged into the mess with her family, he lowered his gaze to his hands. Of course, it was dangerous to meddle with dark witches. But he would have easily done it to help her. He had many times had an interest in taking down covens who pursued the dark arts, so even if it wasn’t for her, there was a chance he would have tried to stop them eventually. But she didn’t want his help, so he wasn't going to demur. “Okay,” he said, accepting her wish to keep him out of it. After all, he didn’t want anyone to get dragged into his affairs either. Not if he could avoid it. “But I don’t mind if you do,” he said, letting her know that he would help her if she needed it. “So, what are you going to do?” he asked, wondering if she planned to avenge them or not. |
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| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Man Sep 14, 2020 10:38 am | |
| If there was one thing she could not stand about herself, it was the damn selfishness she was proving herself to possess time and time again. She did not want to drag him into anything, yet she had been addressing her whispers while in that place to him and no one else. She had hoped for him to find her, and still she tried to say that she did not wish to see him dragged into it. If that wasn’t delusional and selfish, then what was? As he asked what she meant by it being her or them, she looked straight at him once more, this time with her eyes changing to that familier glowing state, but with something sinister in them; a predator, ready to hunt. ‘’They should have known better than to lock up one of their own blood. They have shown how violent, cruel and malevolent they can be. Did they think me any different, when crossed?’’ she asked - suddenly finding no hardship in stringing together a perfect sentence. As usual, she gained strength and faith in the promise of bloodshed from those she thought did her wrong. She would make a perfect poltergeist, surely. As she returned her gaze to the lamp, he accepted her plead for him not to get dragged into her family affairs. After all, even though he was her mate, he was an archangel. What her family would do her to her for socializing with someone like him, that was a chilling thought. ‘’I know..’’ she said, as he said that he didn’t mind if she needed him to help her. She knew he would help, it was in his nature. Still, it wasn’t his place to meddle with what was primarily her grandmother having a soft spot for tormenting her own family. Then, a question she had not accounted for arose, which made her close her eyes for a moment. What was she going to do? Run and hide, like she had done when she moved to Gaia? No, that wouldn’t be an option anymore. They knew she was here, and they knew about Michael, Bienvenido and Tidus. Her only option, at least in her own mind, would be to confront her family. She wasn’t going to sugercoat things for Michael - he knew as well as her that it would most likely end in bloodshed. ‘’I’m going to kill the crone.’’ she said, her voice rendered flat and lifeless - almost as if it wasn’t really her, but a remnant of whatever they had done to her back in Lancaster that spoke. ‘’I am going to kill the crone and run the coven myself..’’ she then elaborated, before she looked back at him, calmly. ‘’I’ve had enough of this… Brutality… Blood magic, death, murders… I Can’t stand it… I can’t have it. Blood magic once costed me my son - it needs to end..’’ she then said, before she shrugged slightly. ‘’Or, I’ll die in the process. That part is to be determined.’’ she then mumbled, knowing that her grandmother - the crone - was far more powerful than Cass. Right now, the halfblooded witch wasn’t anything but weak and with no powers. It would take a great toll on her to kill her grandmother. That was for sure.
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| | | Michael
Antal indlæg : 652
| Emne: Sv: Well, I wouldn't be the one to leave a message after the tone - Michael [CW] Tors Sep 24, 2020 9:03 pm | |
| The sudden change in her eyes was enough to answer his question. The intensity of it making it feel like it was him who she warned and sought to harm. But still, he was curious to hear her reasoning - despite it being influenced by the emotions surging through her at this moment. He tilted his head at the way her menacing sentence effortlessly came across her lips because she had not been able to string a sentence together so perfectly prior to this. Michael knew it meant those thoughts had grazed her mind often in that place. And it wasn't something he could blame her.
He straightened himself as she immediately revealed that she was going to repay her own suffering with the death of the crone. It was a rather serious statement. However, he stayed quiet as she continued, taking all the information in. He knew that Cassandra didn’t care about dying, but he wasn’t so sure her best friend or fiancé would agree with her saying that. And perhaps it would just be easier for her to run and let her family be, albeit it didn't seem to be an option she considered this time around. “You say you're done with the brutality and the murders… yet you yourself conspire to commit murder,” he said and paused. It didn’t make her the better person in this. And it most likely wasn’t the best way for her to take over the coven. Not if she wanted it to change it in the way she'd expressed. “Of course, I ought to tell you to not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good, and to leave the repaying in the hands of God... but knowing you, it won't make much of a difference,” he then said as he looked into her eyes. In truth, he did support her plan to take over the coven and turn it into something better. But there were many ways that it could go wrong, and if it did, she'd most likely die as a consequence. “Just promise me that you'll plan it carefully... because taking over a coven of dark witches by killing their crone, it won’t be accomplished without sacrifices,” he said. What these were varied gravely on her tactics. And he could only assume that she’d need help from others in taking it down. Witches were incredibly strong in numbers, so the odds for her defeating them on her own were quite low. For a moment, his mind started to get ideas about how this could be accomplished until it got reminded of the fact that she didn’t want his help. He moved his gaze away from her to the lamp she seemed so drawn to. “But don't trouble your mind with it for now. Just try to get some rest, and with due time, take that medication... it'll help ease the trauma,” he said, glancing at the vial on the table before he returned his eyes to her. |
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