Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 15, 2005 21:37:56 GMT -5
keaira_onyx: Keaira was not in a pleasant mood to put things mildly. In her opinion--which was the only opinion that ever mattered--this day had been a complete waste of her precious time. For endless hours she had patrolled this realm of insignificant peons, rituallistically travelling through all her usual haunts, taverns and forests, places where people were frequent to gather and the actions of one were scarcely noticed. But despite all her best efforts, she had come away from this vigallence empty handed, no new possession to add to her collection of slaves. Even as darkness began to settle over the land she still had no improvements with her luck. Keaira did not appear all that threatening…even with six inch high heeled boots, she scarcely reached five feet of height--she was small and <C.> keaira_onyx: petite, her frame might even be defined as willowy. Her garb was simple, a blouse of a strange silken material tucked into tight pants of what appeared to be a dark leather material, weapons hidden. Such simplicity disgusted her...she referred to such outfits as "peasant garb", clothing suited for those below her high status. Keaira much preferred her more elaborate outfits of rich silk and satin and velvet. Alas, such flowing robes and gowns were too attention grabbing, and her goal her was to fit in...fit in, appear like the other miserable beasts she encountered into the appropriate time to attack would occur. Her skin was pale, the same color as the snow that blanketed the area around, evidence of a person who spent little to no time within the warmth of day…Keaira was actually <c> keaira_onyx: quite certain that the sun zapped away her strenth, that the blistering yellow orb was a conspiracy by her enemies to get at her. Indeed, took solace in the night, feeling comfortable in the pleasant darkness that reminded her of home . Home...she'd soon be home. Just a bit longer, and if she found nothing that caught her fancy, then she would return...there, she would at least have many outlets presented to her to use in release of this simmering anger. It was true,she really did not *need* a new possession-- she had many at her beck and call, numerous slaves that quacked in fear before her, kotowwed to her every need. But dammit, she wanted a new slave!! Her toys at home bored her--they broke so quickly these days, the screams dieing off to whimpers before they ever really even <c> keaira_onyx: really even had a chance to begin. It truely was quite annoying...she wanted someone fresh, someone who did not yet know the terror that Kea could provide, someone whom might provide her with hours of entertainment as she slowly crushed their spirit. Yes...she wanted a new slave! And what Keaira wanted, Keaira got. The young appearing woman would release a bit of her frustrations by stamping hard at the ground, the crushing of show beneath her dainty booted food a pleasing sensation. . There was no one! No one even around to examine! Dammit! To hell with it all…It doesn't occur to Keaira that most are probably inside at such hours considering the tendency the temperature had to be cold and unbearable in the evening of this time of the year. The coldness had absolutely no effect <c> keaira_onyx: on her as she strides forward, her heels click loudly upon the ground, tapping out a pattern as she moves along, muttering various curses beneath her breath. Indeed, it would appear almost as though the tiny woman was holding a conversation with herself as she moved forward with surprising speed, in a seeming hurry to get nowhere. Smoke curling upward in the sky would catch her attention, Keaira stopping abrubtly in her tracks, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Smoke...smoke meant fire...fire meant people. Well now...it appeared as though her luck just might be changing. She began moving forward again, this time with more caution, using the trees for cover as she strayed from the beaten path. She didn't want to let her presence be known prematurely...that wouldn't do, not at all. keaira_onyx: Not when this just might be the turning point of her otherwise lackluster day. <end>
lady_priest_of_incondors_lament: -The small knot of soldiers that were accompanying Aerillia to the shores of Avalon made swift work of setting up camp. Aerillia still felt the ache in her bones from her ordeal just about three weeks prior. It hurt to crouch sometimes and it wasnt at all that comfortable to sleep in certain positions. Snow crunches beneath the Desert Rose's boots as she keeps herself busy by taking the tack off the horses and brushing them down. When all of that is done she lays blankets over them to keep them somewhat warm in the freezing weather. Aerillia casts a glance upward into the sky, the woods surrounding them were quiet, eerie in their silence but she attributed that to the snow accumulating in drifts along the perimeter of their camp. <C>- lady_priest_of_incondors_lament: -The soldiers were trying to stay about their business, dividing the watches into equal shares because that was what soldiers did, stood watch. With a roll of her luminous blue eyes, Aerillia stoops next to a pack near one of the horses. Her heavy wool cloak concealed her body well and kept most of the biting chill off. Usually her long black hair was down and flowing, but today she decided to keep it up, they onyx mane falls briefly about her face in defiant whisps that meld perfectly with her tanned skin. It was evident that the woman was exotic, almost beautifully so. Could it be any other reason that the rogue Theoren Roullier would become briefly infatuated with her? The desert beauty allows herself a brief smile in thought of him before turning back to the pack at her feet. Crouched low, she looks more like a hobbit than a full grown woman, but there is no doubt that <C> lady_priest_of_incondors_lament: -She is quite a gem and obviously more than what meets the eye. Turning her gaze, as she crouches before the pack, to look back at the men gathered around the fire discussing perfect stake out spots, Aerillia could have just made a costly mistake. Yet with a sleepy hazy fog latching onto her mind, and them being so far from the road, she really and truely didnt expect any sort of ambush. Besides, who in their right mind would be out at dusk on a day like this? <E>-
keaira_onyx: Keaira steps quietly, the snow doing much to muffle the sound of her movements through the forested area. Stealth was of the most critical importance in such matters. Adrenaline sent black blood pounding through her veins, tremors of excitement traversing her spine at the possibility of finally having located someone for her location. But she forces herself to calm down--getting her hopes up yet again might only lead to further disappointment. She didn't know quite what she would find once she reached the origin of the smoke. While she was certain the smoke signified fire, and that in such temperatures, a fire would have had to have been set deliberatly, it might just turn out that there were none worth her time and effort. While quite eager for a capture, she still had some <c> keaira_onyx: standards that were necessary for her to live up to. Keaira did have a reputation to maintain after all! And if this sign of human life turned out to be her lucky break, she still had to remain calm and rational if she were going to have a chance at success. Bah...she laughed. As if she would fail!! She is near enough now that she can make out several figues, highlighted by the fire and the last remaining bit of daylight. This was it...Before proceeding, she would bend down, rolling up her pants leg to reveal a sheath securely fastened to her thigh. Grasping the handle of the weapon, she would slide cool metal over firm leather, revealing the shiny silver of her prized dagger. Fingers lightly stroke the blood stained surface, whispering lightly beneath her breath... <c> keaira_onyx: "Soon...soon, my darling...soon you shall have a taste of blood." While she wasn't sure if she would even find someone here for her precious sweet blade to play with she had learned over the centuries that it was always best to be prepared. Creeping forward soundlessly, she would crouch behind a tree, taking in the scene that was unfolding before her. There were five men...all gathered about the fire that had drawn her here, her wonderful beaken. Upon closer inspection, she realizes that all are in full armor, denoting them as soldiers...guards perhaps? But what were they doing way out here? Were they merely a patrol of some sort? It seemed out for anyone to be patroling this far out...and she had not seen any other parties, just this one group. What were they doing here?? <c> keaira_onyx: She felt a ping of disappointment. A soldier was not really what she sought...and capturing one of those men would certainly prove to be more than it was worth. Dutifully, she continues her perusal of the area, wondering if perhaps she might have missed something. All at once her gaze lit upon the figure of a woman who was huddled near the outer edges of the clearing. Now that was more like it. Was it possible that she was the reason for the armored men here? She was a pretty, exotic woman, someone certainly worth guarding and someone certain to make a worthwhile addition to her collection of slaves. And best of all...none of the men seemed to be paying her even the slightest of attention. creeping silently forward, she would posistion herself directly behind the woman, <c>
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Post by Keaira on Feb 15, 2005 22:29:59 GMT -5
striking quickly like a snake...one hand would move in an effort to cover rilla's mouth, her dagger hand simultaneously snaking around to hopefully be placed at aerilla's throat. "Not one single sound bitch or I'll cut your fucking head off." She keeps her voice low, no more than a whisper, but still her tone is deadly, leaving no doubt as to the seriousness of the threat.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 16, 2005 10:24:52 GMT -5
The first instinct of a Warrior is to try to physically over come the opposition, but taken completely by surprise as Aerillia was she had no time. Shock stole into the very marrow of her bones as she felt herself grabbed from behind and the icy cold steel pressed against the hollow of her throat. Panic tried to creep into her conciousness but somehow, someway she managed to fight it back.
The only thing that would be seen by the guards was Aerillia's body twisting akwardly, as if maybe she had slipped on a covered patch of ice but caught herself with her hands. They wouldnt see the figure behind her, for Aerillia was much taller and broader of shoulder than Keaira could ever possibly hope of being. The cloak served to cast the crazed woman in an even deeper shadow, as if it worked for only her.
Fighting an inner turmoil within herself, Aerillia manages not to scream out to the guards. The point of the blade would serve to silence her should she even think about it. Aerillia, confounded at being caught in such a way, could do nothing to fight back without harming herself in the process. The razor edge of the blade was already biting into her flesh and she fancied she could feel the slightest penetration. Her breathing coming out in pants, clouds coalesce in the air before her eyes, shading the view of the guards.
When one of the guards realizes that Aerillia has not moved, he gets up and motions to the men around the fire to stay. Obviously he was the leader. "Ms. Khisu? Are you alright?" Aerillia's eyes flare slightly as he walks closer, but instead of fear for herself more for fear of the man walking close. She had no idea how many this one individual, woman by the sound of her voice, had brought with her. It could be an ambush. The guard however mistakes the look in her eyes for fear and realizes soon enough that there is a dagger at her throat and a hand over her mouth. How in the hell...?
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Post by Keaira on Feb 16, 2005 22:21:36 GMT -5
: Keaira is quick to assert her control on Aerillia, pulling the young woman closer and tightenting her hold, the blade pressed more firmly against the soft flesh of unblemished neck, cupping her hand more firmly upon her mouth to discourage sound. There was no way that she was going to let herself lose this one...no way, no how...not after the endless hours she had spent in search, not after all the time that had had been wasted. Rillia was perfect, an exotic speciman that would make a grand addition to her collection, and no way in hell was she going to lose her, especially not from a mistake as stupid as not keeping a tight enough hold on her prety. Keaira would take a step backwards, dragging the young woman along with her. Strategically she has posistioned herself against the firm trunk of a broad tree--while she had seen no other troops in the immediate area, that did not mean there were not any. Having her back guarded by the huge tree would increase her advantage against what might seem to some as staggering odds--no one would ruin things by trying to sneak up on her, that was a certainty!
The blade would be pressed down slightly into her victims neck, this time with the intention of drawing a bit of blood to the surface. She wanted to keep her victim on edge, not knowing what to expect from her captor. It wouldn't do to let her get too comfortable; then she might attempt something stupid and pointless. And Keaira was not in the mood to deal with antics from some slave who thought she had some chance of escaping her fate. Fate...ah, yes, this was fate...This girl was meant to be enslaved and it was up to Kea to put her in her rightful place. Oh yes...wasn't the Mistress so kind, to take it upon herself to guide this girl into her destiny? A bit of blood spilling down her neck was certain to go quite a ways in assuring the girl of the seriousness of the situation, that Keaira's threats were by no means idle. Kea would move her head so that her lips nearly touched her captive's hear, black tongue flickering out against the inner ear as she speaks once more in a low, sinister tone. "You are leaving here with me now...I ssssuugessst you cooperate and not put up any ssort of a ssstruggle or I sshall.."
"Ms. Khisu? Are you alright?" The words ring loud and clear, interrupting her speech. Kea's head would jerk upward in surprise, the blade jamming back further into Aerillia's throat. What in the hell?? Her dark green eyes would focus upon the man lumbering towards them, curses muttered at having not been sooner aware of his approach. Dammit! Well, there went that plan!! It appeared as though now there would be no chance of getting out of here without being noticed. The bitch would pay for calling over their attention!! Never mind that Aerillia had made not a single sound, nor had made even an attempt at non verbal communication. It was her fault, Keaira was certain...she must have done something to mess things up for her Mistress. Now she had five armed men to contend with in addition to her victim, which could complicate things. She suppossed it really didn't much matter though. She had the woman at her mercy, and be there five guards or five hundred guards, ,there was no way in hell they would be liberating her. They wouldn't risk such actions, not when a wrong move would bring to their companion immediate death. Keaira moved her hand from the woman's mouth, scraping her nails forcefulliy over her face before grasping a handful of her victim's hair, entertwining her lithe fingers within the thick mass of hair and jerking firmly, further barring her neck to the unweilding knife. Keeping the woman silent really wasn't a priority anymore now that the guards had been alerted to her presence. No sense in denying herself further the sweet sounds of the woman's certain fear and pain. "Ms. Khishu..." She mocks the name, twisting around the words and spitting them out as though they had a bad taste, "Is leaving with me." Jerking hard upon the hair, pressing down further with her dagger. "No one will follow us or attempt any stupid rescue attempts, for I assure you, they will be furtile and succeed only in presenting this lovely woman with further pain, and most likely death." She moves backwards a step, putting a bit more distance between herself and the guards. Her back is kept pressed to the rough bark of trees, her sinister gaze never leaving the man in front of her. "In fact...I want all of you to place down your weapons, step away, then lay down on your stomachs. True, she could always just teleport away with Aerillia...but it would prove to be much more entertaining to drag her through the woods. Besides, ,teleportation signals could be traced, and that was not a risk she was willing to trace. When she finally disappeared with Rillia, she would make it so she could never be traced, never be found. Not ever!
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 18, 2005 14:39:31 GMT -5
The knife pressed deeper into her flesh causing the blood to trickle down. It felt warm against the persistent chill that had settled down on Ulster three weeks past. She soon became aware of how quickly the heat left the blood as it left an unwary trail in its wake. The surprise of it all still had her mind reeling with what was going on. She knew better, however, than to fight an assailant that had the upper hand. This woman obviously didnt care if she slit her captives throat.
It was hard to breathe properly past the knife, but when the guard steps up and realizes the situation...the knife. That was the only thing forefront in her mind as it pressed deeper into her throat. Now she could barely draw a breath without the razor edge of the blade biting deeper into her flesh. Blood ran freely down her neck as she held herself up, trying to get air.
Air... It was all she could do to just stay up on her hands and feet with the woman urgently pressing the steel against her neck. And then movement. Keaira's nails bit keenly into the side of Aerillia's face, drawing blood with the claw marks, but she had little time before those claws snatched up a fistful of her hair. Gasping at the sudden transition of events, Aerillia's head is jerked back at a skewed angle, making it look as if her neck might break if anymore pressure was applied. The knife bit down into her neck again and almost against her will the first sounds she has made since the beginning of this wicked fiasco boil down to being a grunt of pain.
The world was so obviously askew that Aerillia had a hard time of making things right in her head, but when she finally manages to make things right in her head she realizes that her captor's hand is no longer on her mouth. Her words come out choked due to lack of breath, her neck bleeding from the few wounds luckily none were on her trachea. "Do..." Her words are caught in her throat, as if the knife blade were catching them all and she coughs some. A dangerous thing indeed considering the knife. Her head is then hauled up, as if Kea knew what she was doing might suffocate her newly found captive. Finally able to draw a little breath in the transition, Aerillia hurriedly stumbles through the rest of what she has to say. "Do as she says!" Hauled back by her hair again, she lets out a muffled cry of pain as her body is roughly handled. She still wasnt over her miscarriage, and it was obvious in the eyes of the soldier before her. Could she possibly survive the loss of more blood? She had lost so very much that awful day. "Tell the queen...what happened..." her words come out as a whisper and Aerillia eyes the guard.
Dejectedly the guard drops his weapon, which in the mean time he had unsheated. The rest of the guards had by that time come to stand nearby and followed suite with their leader. Backing away, the sandy haired blonde man looks almost as if he were in pain himself at seeing Aerillia handled so roughly. In some way he almost expected the spirit of Theoren Roullier to smite him for letting such a beautiful and intelligent woman get caught in such a fashion. Hadnt they known Aerillia wasnt healed? Hadnt they known that she still pained over things they couldnt possibly fathom?
Yes, they had known it. They had all come to acknowledge that Aerillia was a strong woman if she could endure the pain that they saw evident in her eyes every day. Pain that would buckle the knees of a man. Moreso they feared what Kahlan might do to them when they returned to tell her of what happened. The High Queen had turned decidedly more toward the wolven aspect of her nature since the untimely death of her good friend Theoren Roullier.
"Fine. Fine! We'll do as you ask. Just dont kill her." The captain of the small knot of soldier said as he lowered himself to the ground and motioned for the others to follow with a hasty gesture. "Just dont kill her..." His words echoed around the small clearing covered around the edges with snow like a haunting ghost. The same haunted ghost that must now have taken residence in Aerillia's eyes. Beside the desert woman the captain thought he saw a puddle of blood coagulating in the snow, but he couldnt be sure.
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Post by Keaira on Feb 22, 2005 1:59:09 GMT -5
: Keaira did not seem to realize that holding her prisoner in such a mannerism was detrimental to the breathing process. The physiology of the creatures whom roamed these lands was something incomprehendable to Kea--she made her own assumptions and conclusions about the physical and mental limitations of those who served her and nothing would sway her from these most likely wrong conclusions. She is completely unaware of the fact that Aerillia was having any difficulting in inflating her lungs with precious oxygen; even if she was alerted to this fact, it would prove only to make this capture all the more pleasing, knowing she was providing the poor woman with additional discomfort. Discomfort....pain...states which Aerillia might as well get used to, for soon she would not even remember a slight moment without there. Oh yes, it wouldn't be long now...
Close attention is payed to the interaction between the woman and her posse, dark eyes shifting from one member of the guard ship to the other. There were five of them, of that she was certain...and she made sure that five were always within her field of vision. It wouldn't do to allow her attention to waver and give one of the men the opportunity to attempt to sneak upon her in some heroic attempt to save the damsel from distress. At least Aerillia showed some modium of intelligence in ordering obedience from the men. Were they her men? She wonders for about the hundredth time. It was obvious now Aerillia was not a conquest of theirs--she was not restrained in any manner and that man seemed to be treating her with the upmost degree of respect. Was she some sort of leader? They seemed to obey her as such, following out Kea's instructions at Rillia's command. Her ears prick up slightly at the use of the word queen. Tell the queen... Was Rillia important enough that her disappearance might warrant the attention of a queen? Just what really was going on here? These ponderances are filed into the back of her mind. It was something that she would have to sort out later, during the initiation and interrogation stages of this abduction and subsequent processing. Soon she would know everything and anything there was to know about this exotic speciman.
But for now... Keaira's nose wrinkles, detecting the coppery scent of the blood which had already been spilled by her dagger, sweet delectable life liquid. The thought of getting to taste the certain to be delicious crimson fluid nearly had her salivating...oh and the screams, the sounds of pain she would entice in getting to the blood! Yesss...she was certain to have such fun with this woman--Keaira couldn't wait for the festivities to begin! This next time when she speaks, she does nothing to lower the volume of her voice, her words echoing with clarity."My slave and I will be leaving now..." Keaira haughtily informs the guards, jerking the girl's head back by the thick handful of hair she grasped, causing the dagger to press in further, almost as though daring Aerillia to challenge her newly errected status as slave or perhaps to protest the leaving of this safety net, this place where she had allies, witnesses to her fate. "Do not even think about coming after us--if you do, I assure you, there will be nothing left of the wench to rescue. Stay right where you are and count to 10,000, nice and slow...I've got eyes and ears all over this area, I will know if my instructions are not followed and the girl will be the one whom suffers." Keaira was on her own here...she did not trust others to assist her, especially in matters so important as this. They were all after her, every last one...they wanted to bring about her demise, but she wouldn't let them, oh no! No one was ever honored with her trust, she worked completely trouble...it was the only way to keep the conspiracy from overtaking her. But these men, they didn't know that, they would have no way. And with the sickeningly sweet way the leader had plead for Aerillia's life, begging she not be killed...certainly he nor his followers would risk attempting to call Kea's bluff.
Trusting that she had covered all of her bases here, she would give a slight tug upon Aerillia's hair to get her attention. "Let's go..." she growls. And with that, she would begin the process and pulling her captive from the clearing, dragging her from her old life of freedom once and for all. It was a bit ackward, considering Rillia was a good nine inches taller than Kea, Kea forcing the girl to double backwards in order to maintain her posistion of control. Thus far Aerillia had been amazingly cooperative, but who wouldn't be with a knife so close to such a delicate region. The woman was far from being broken--until she had successfully molded her into docile servant, Kea was taking no chances. Her fingernails, sharpened to an extent they resembled talons, pressed harshly into her victims scalp, dagger no longer constantly biting into the soft flesh of her neck, but kept in a ready posistion, prepared to quelsh any bit of struggle or arguement before it even began. Keaira moved in a zig zag pattern--as eager as she was to return with her prize, she still erred on the side of caution, keeping her back protected by the mighty trees which made up the forest. The fire in the clearing soon became nothing more than a speck, then vanished completely as she pulled her victim through the snow drifts, dragging her mercilessly on a winding path between the trees. For the most part she is silent, concentrating all her effort on moving Aerillia where she wanted her to go. Occassionally she would mutter under her breath, mostly curses in various languages, sometimes lashing out at Aerillia in babbled, repetitive speech, evidence of just how insane the woman really was. "Think you're so tough, do you? You and you're scary men? Well I showed you, ,showed you all didn't I? You're mine now...mine, all mine!! Stupid bitch...I'm smarted then you, better than you.... You'll be mine forever...though forever... Bet you're real sorry now, huh? Going to have to spend the rest of your miserable existance making up for being so worthless, so stupid!"
Finally, she would pause... as much as she was enjoying this little trek, she was growing impatient, eager to begin tearing her captive apart, to dissect her mind, body, heart and soul, find out exactly what made her tick...then rebuild her to her liking, ,a slave who knew her place and was happy in it. Roughly she shoves Aerillia forward, slamming her against the trunk of a thick, lumbering tree. The blade is twisted just slightly, the blunt end now caressing the most area of Rillia's neck--she didn't want to end up doing any permanent damage...not yet anyway! The hand that still grasped a handful of hair would pull back and then shove forward in an attempt to smash Aerilla's face against the tree. Kea's own body would press into her captive's back with a strength that defied her small stature, holding her victim in place wedged against the rough bark. "No sudden movements...put your hands palm down on the tree trunk, spread shoulder width apart, right up where I can see them."
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 22, 2005 12:58:40 GMT -5
Before she knew it there was no air left in her as the blade was jabbed further against her neck. She vaguely wondered if the woman would just kill her where she kneeled, head held at an impossibly strange angle. At this juncture Aerillia wouldnt have minded being killed so long as on the other side she could get a whole breath without interruption. How she had taken that luxury for granted for so long! Her lungs burn with the need for Air, the life giving supplement crucial to all mammalian creatures...
She hadnt given much thought to anything else and as the guards lay face down in the snow with their hands on their heads she only recognizes a shift in movement as Kea wrenches her head about. The shift causes Aerillia to almost somersault in the air and she has very little time to scramble to her feet and follow Kea. Held down by the shorter woman, Aerillia manages to suck in the much needed breath as she watches the snow pass beneath her. From time to time the snow is marred by a drop or two of the Desert Rose's blood. Warm, hot, and sticky blood that melts the first virgin layer of snow and had they been small enough they might have heard it hiss.
All of Aerillia's training as a Priestess of Air and her training with the Element of Air to which she was inexorably tied much like Kahlan to fire...none of it had reached her foggy mind. Then again she hadnt needed it for so long that for it to register in the breath of a moment...
From time to time Aerillia feels the point of the knife press against the back of her neck as Kea exerts her will over the lithe twenty five year old woman. As if it could be tough, Aerillia's body still ached from the miscarriage and loss of blood. The sudden helplessness of her situation is befuddling to the Desert Rose, but she had to survive...she had to. But to what end? It was evident that her captor cared nothing for her state of mind or state of being and could just as easily try to kill her as look at her. The rampant mutterings of the insane woman filter down to Aerillia but she couldnt make heads or tails of them because she recognized none of the languages used. She did finally come to realize that Kea was talking to her and despite all her ravings Aerillia couldnt understand exactly what she wanted from her.
Her captor's strength was something that Aerillia could grudgingly respect. For a woman so small she was exceptionally strong and full of piss and vinegar. As if her musings were to be proven, Kea decides to exert her dominance over Aerillia yet again by thrusting her head long into a nearby tree. At first Aerillia had no clue what was going on and then the tree came into her vision with such haste that she had no chance to prevent slamming into it.
The wind was pushed from her lungs (after she had worked so hard to get it back!) as she made full body contact with the enormous tree. It felt like an embrace with a cold uncle that believed his niece wasnt the legitimate child of his brother. The pressure of Kea's body presses Aerillia further against the biting bark of the tree, letting it dig into the exposed flesh of her arms where they are now pinned against the tree. When Kea tangles her fingers into Aerillia's usually lustruous black locks once more, the woman can do nothing but grimace and gasp at the added pain only to realize that her head is being brought back. When her forehead meets the tree tears spring into the young woman's brilliant blue eyes and she has to fight to keep conciousness. It was not so much the pain of the impact but how her face had hit that brought about tears.
Kea's demands are met as Aerillia arranges her hands as her captor commanded. High enough so as not to intimidate the woman and low enough to be seen. Fighting with all her might to stay concious as her field of vision narrows, Aerillia realizes that blood is seeping down the front of her face. Nothing was broken but there must be a gash on the uppermost part of her forehead near the hair line. The coppery taste of blood seeps into a corner of her mouth and the scent fills her nostrils until she gags a little on both the taste and the smell. It brought back memories, dark memories of a past she had neglected to tell anyone. A past of servitude to her mother's family back home.
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Post by Keaira on Feb 22, 2005 18:08:30 GMT -5
With Aerillia's hands both sufficiently occupied and her lithe form tightly wedged between the tree and her captor's body, Keaira would allow herself to take a slight risk. The hand that had been gripping Aerillia's hair with such ferocity chunks had been yanked out suddenly releases, Kea's hand moving to grasp her pendant, a permanent fixture encircling her slender neck. Fingers would lightly caress the smooth silver twisted into an ancient symbol of archaic evil, polishing over the smooth gems set in the necklace. And with a few muttered words, both would be transported from this world, taken from Ulster in a bright flash of red light only to reappear moments later in Kea's domain, her fun house...and the personal hell of the many unlucky enough to have made her aquataince.
It is only slightly better than pitch dark here, the reddish flickering of candles placed sparsely along the perimeter of the area the only source of light, revealing them to be in a hallway that appears to stretch infinitly to both the left and the right. Black cobblestone bricks make up the floor, the walls, even the ceiling, the only bit of color a spotting of dusky red brown from where blood had been spilt over the centuries. . The air is permeated with the nauseating scent of decay, blood, vomit and other bodily fluids, enough to make those with weak stomachs regugitate the contents of their stomach. Keaira would waste no time in letting her poor victim adjust to these new surroundings, her hand once more tightly grasping at Aerillia's hair while the blade presses insistantly at her neck. Through a confusing maze of hallways she would pull the girl, her gait determined as she drags Rillia through many a tight turn.. It was a complicated labyrinth here, with many connecting passages that twisted and turned in an almost dizzying manner. Keaira was really the only one who knew the full extent of the pathways here. Skeletons, bodies still in the stages of decomposition littered the halls at sporadic places along the way, idiots who had been stupid enough to try escape, but had never even managed to get to the entrance. They served as reminders to any others who might consider freedom.
Finally she would pause before a door, letting go of Rillia's hair once more in order to unlock and upon the heavy stone door. As soon as they were within the chamber, Keaira would close the door with a resounding clank. It might as well have been a door closing upon this newest acquisitions old life, because soon freedom and comfort, an absence of pain would not even exist as a memory. Keaira's hand wavers upon the doorknob as she put in place both magickal seals and physical locks to make escape from this room all but impossible. The purpose of this room should be painfully obvious, even to a small brained human. The focus of the room is a stone platform raised about three feet in the air, just enough so Keaira would not have to bend in her work. Hell forbid that Keaira might become a wee bit uncomfortable during her sinister torture and breaking of innocents.
Along the walls hung various implements of torture...daggers and knives, whips of varying sizes and materials, contraptions of metal that would be foreign to those unfamiliar with their usuage, pieces meant to grind and pierce, to twist and sprain, causing optimal pain to a particular body part. A table in the corner was set up with vials of potion, syringes, various other concoctions.The smell here is overwhelming, even more so than the outer areas...it was as though every molecule, ever atom in the room was completely saturated, ever inch of surface having been stained with the blood, vomit, other other wastes of innocents over the centuries. Even the hundreds of hours she had forced her workers to scrub and clean did little to nothing to get rid of the life liquid that had soaked into the brick. Oh yes...this new pet of hers was certainly in for the long haul, as she would realize herself soon enough. The bitch was completely helpless, the newest pawn in this neverending game of power and control that Kea seemed bent on playing. She had the control...she had the power. A tiny thrill of excitment traverses her spine in anticipation of the pleasant activities she would soon immerse herself in. Ssoon, ,but not yet...
Now...now came the moment of reckoning. Thus far, Aerillia had been completely cooperative, offering not even a word of complaint. But the submission she had recieved thus far could easily be contributed to the sharp blade of dagger kept at her victim's throat. Kea would now see how she performed when given a bit more freed. This room was tightly barred, there was no way she was going to be able to leave. Would the girl realize that deck was stacked against her, there was no chance of her escaping and she might as well submit to her fate? Or would she choose this moment to become rebellious, testing her limits. Only one way to find out... Keaira would pull the dagger away from Aerillia's neck, letting go fo her hair and shoving her roughly down towards the ground. Then Keaira would give her first order, a commanding tone that broached no arguments. "Remove your clothing. Every article, as well as accessories, weapons, jewelry. Keep nothing!. Then lay down on your back on the table. Be quick about it, *slave*!" she hisses the last word, taking great delight in letting the girl know of her new lot in life.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 22, 2005 21:20:46 GMT -5
The pain in her skull throbs menacingly as she is usurped from everything she knows and finds comforting, only to be dumped in the bowels of hell. Thats exactly what it had to be, and to be frank it smelled like it too. Convincing herself that she had smelled worse in sick bays across the years and on the battlefield, Aerillia stumbles along as she is dragged by her hair yet again. Numbly she wonders if her head will simply pop off her shoulders and her body will be left behind.
As gruesome things pass her by Aerillia seems to push the imagery to the side, locking it out of her mind in a vain attempt to salvage the rest of her sanity while it still lingered. Unfortunately for her Kea found what she had been searching for and Aerillia is unceremoniously dumped onto the floor as Kea goes through the motions of locking the room up.
While Kea is turned to her task, Aerillia steals a moment to look around the room. Reaching up with a shaky hand she touches her neck and then her forehead. All wounds were minimal but inflicted in such a way to draw blood. This woman knew how to inflict pain and that was more than obvious. With the little freedom she is given she realizes that she would have much rather had Kea's hand wrapped in her hair. With blood on her hands, she looks up at Kea as she speaks to her. It takes her a moment to register everthing that is said and she pushes back from Kea. It would appear that she is being obstinant except she starts to comply with her captor's wishes.
When she is done she pushes her clothes away from her, she had no jewelry on her person when she was captured and so she had none to give. Suddenly she panics, remembering how she was beat when she was younger when she didnt have something. Fearing that she might be beat again, Aerillia quickly moves over to the stone table and lays back. Against her warm flesh it is incredibly cold and she winces slightly. Other than that (and being fairly thin) Aerillia looks unblemished save for the bruises on her tan skin just appearing from being thrown around and the blood on her face from the small cut on her forehead. It hurt to think...she didnt even know what she was doing anymore.
How had she come to be in this position again?
Mother...why do I have to go away?
"The first born girl child goes to her mother's family to work when she is five years old."
But Mother...I dont want to go away. I want to stay with you and Papa.
"We have no choice. Your Papa says it must be so and my family is in need of a new servant."
Dont you love me anymore Mama?
"Yes baby I do. Dont forget that ever. Forget my name and forget my existence but never forget that I do love you. Now go. Your duty awaits you. And remember Aeri--only servitude may save you. Be with the Goddess."
Practically convulsing with the pent up memory of what her mother had actually said long ago...Aerillia wonders if this woman could possibly inflict more pain on her broken heart. If she had been a bird her wings would long ago have been broken and left to hang uselessly at her side. Though now, in the face of possibly the worst danger she has ever faced, the Desert Rose has no thorns.
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Post by Keaira on Feb 23, 2005 10:20:07 GMT -5
Her arms are crossed over her chest as she watches the disrobing process from her vantage point near the door, yet another obstacle in place should the girl get any stupid notions of trying to escape her destiny. Yes, this was her destiny, to be a slave, a willing servant who's sole and entire purpose was to fulfill the whims of a sadistic and somewhat crazed Mistress. Keaira was merely helping her acheive the place that Satan had intended for the bitch Wasn't that so nice of her? A small smile would cause her lips to twist upward as the woman obeys without hesitation, without question. Green eyes would bore into the slave as she stood there completely nude, Keaira realizing how humiliating this act was. Some slaves would rather be beaten and have their garments ripped from their bodies: rather then go through the embarrassing experience of voluntarily giving them up. It was almost a shame that the wench was so cooperative...it would have been much more entertaining for her to have to "force" obedience upon her. "Good..." she gives a small, curt nod as Rillia moves into posistion upon the stone tablet. Moving over to the pile of clothes, she would nudge them with the toe of her high healed boot, shifting through the garments in search of anything that might have value. When her searching turns up nothing, Keaira would make a noise of disgust, stomping on the clothes and grinding them into the floor, completing her desecration of the last tangible proof the woman had of another life by spitting on the pile before kicking them over to the side. She would have them done away with later..
"Worthless..." She snorts, shaking her head as she turns back to Aerillia, a quick once over of her body revealing that she had not held back on Kea. "What kind of woman are you, to have not a single piece of jewelry, not so much as a ring? But then...I guess you really aren't a woman anymore, merely a slave...my slave! I'll bet you're glad now that I saw fit to take you as mine! We're going to have such fun together!" Her hands clap together before her body like a giddy child might before she set about the task of securing Aerillia down. Her arms are pulled up above her head and slightly to the side, welding chains together about the wrists, quite tightly, to such an extent that circulation just might be cut off. Repeating this procedure with her legs, ankles secured with the thick chains. Then another chain wrapped about her waist and pulled tauntly out to the side before being riveted down to which such force it appears almost as though Kea might be attempting to sever her in half. Then a thin chain is used across her forward, and for the final touch, a collar is fashioned and locked about her neck. Often, Keaira did not bother tying down her victims--it was extra punishment, for a slave to have to hold completely still as Kea did the unthinkable to their bodies. But for now, with this one, she was taking every precaution just in case she had by some chance grabbed one of the fiesty ones and this obedience was merely for show.
Moving around from chain to chain, she would check to make sure that they held Rillia securely fastened down, another nod given before she soundlessly spins around to examine her wall of torture implements. Her lips purse as she considers her options, fingers dancing over a variety of implements before settling on her selection on whips. Carefully she draws down a whip about five feet long or so, made of braided leather, chunks of smooth, polished metal tied to tails on the end to add an extra oomph. It was perfect…simply perfect! Keaira snaps the weapon through the air, getting used to the feel of it as she moves over to the potion table. Picking through the jars and vials and containers, she finally selects a flask containing a liquid of a sickly green color. It was a fairly quick acting potion made from the oils of many poisonous plants that caused severe and constant itching when it came in contact with the body. Satisfied that she had what she needed, she turns back to the platform to begin Aerillia’s “interrogation”. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I suggest you listen very carefully, for I most sincerely hate repeating myself. I am going to ask you some questions. You will answer me promptly and truthfully in a respectful tone, referring to me as Mistress at all times. If I am satisfied with your answers, then I will only whip you…if I am dissatisfied, then I will retrieve my dagger and carve you up like a piece of dragon meat. My darling does so crave the tasting of your blood and I do so hate to disappoint it…” You could never really escape pain with Keaira…there was only ever the lesser of two evils...being pained one way verses being hurt another way. And Kea was not really a woman of her word and often reneged on promises not to do greater harm for the mere entertainment of it all.
Uncapping the flask, she would begin to sprinkle the itching substance over her prone victim. In Kea’s opinion, it acted like a truth serum. She did not believe a slave could really concentrate when stricken with something such as uncontrollable itching. And to lie, it took great concentration, the ability to focus on covering up the answer that might rest upon the tip of a slave’s tongue. She covered the entire accessible surface of Aerillia’s body, though in what seem life a moment of kindness, she spares only a few drops for the face. When the flask is empty, she would toss it carelessly to the side for someone else to pick up later. “How old are you? What is your race? Do you have any useful skills or talents that might give me reason to keep you alive?” One question right after the other, spewed out so quickly it appears Kea is trying to get Aerillia up so that she might have an excuse to start cutting her up…not that she ever really needed an excuse! The whip is drawn back, then brought forward iin a blow directed towards Rillia’s torso area, then again, accenting her words with the steady beat of the whip.
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 23, 2005 20:53:50 GMT -5
Her thoughts were elsewhere until the click of the collar resounds in her ears. She had little time to react as Kea started spreading the itching liquid over her body. Twitching as the liquid starts working on her, Aerillia's mind starts to work against her and dwell on the collar around her neck. With barely enough time to attempt to croak out an answer to Kea's comment as the first onslaught of blows is rained down on upon her and all she can think of is the pain and the itching.
Scream. No one can hear you. No one cares about a lowly house slave. This is your lot in life and this is how you will live. You live because we let you.
Scream
And so she does. The sound of it is heart wrenching, but to what end? There was no heart to wrench out of this woman. On some level the thought of the collar slowly begins to choke her, infiltrating her mind like a poison content to eradicate her one cell at a time. Yet through it all she somehow manages to answer Kea. "I am 25, mistress!" A few more screams. Blood beads up on her flesh where the whip bites down. If one looked at it long enough they almost seem like jewels covering her lacerated body. Another question quickly followed the first and it was all she could do to answer it. "Ysaena! I am Ysaena mistress!"
What had she done to deserve this treatment? Hadnt she proved to this woman that she would comply with her wishes? Do as she asked? Not that she had the opprotunity to make a choice either way. The dagger at her throat had all but convinced her that she had no say in the matter, and no more than at that moment did she realize the want to live. Now she wasnt so sure. No not so sure at all.
It hurts. Help me please. Goddess please...
Another wail of pain as the last question was asked. This one rather confounded her but she tried to answer as best she could. "I can do most anything..." not fast enough. SNAP--CRACK! The whip bit down into her and she screamed again. Tears streaming from the corners of her eyes to mingle with blood. Her body is no longer her own as she convulses from the itch and the pain. The solution slowly starting to creep into the opening wounds across her abdomen. "I'll do anything you want me to mistress. Anything..." She hadnt remembered how bad it hurt, how horribly she had been treated...how humiliated.
At this juncture she realizes that compliance will be her only way of survival. Quickly she scrambles to take the last vestiges of her sanity, her identity, and pack them away. Far far away from Kea. From the hurt and the pain and the humiliation. Saving what she has left to offer by slamming a door across it to where Kea would never begin to look for it. Besides to find it would be to kill her. If Theo could only see her now...the fight all gone out of her. Her fire gone. Her body begins to convulse even more as the pain and shock course through her, tearing at her mind. She would wait for the right moment to turn on her mistress. But that thought is soon whisked away as pain replaces all that could possibly be fathomed.
In the dark recesses of the mind there is a lost soul. A lost little girl. Pray that she be found otherwise hell will abound.
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Post by Keaira on Feb 24, 2005 3:19:53 GMT -5
The first scream split the air...a loud piercing sound of absolute agony that would echo through the room, bouncing off the walls and resounding sweetly in Kea's ears. It was a wonderfully delicious noise so tantilizingly filled with the pain Keaira enjoyed inflicting. It was so good of the bitch to look out for her Mistress, to entertain her such beautiful music while Keaira worked on turning her body into a stunning piece of artwork. It was such a thankless job sometimes...good of this girl, letting Kea know how much she appreciated the time and effort that was contributed to this endevour. Keaira would settle into a monotous rhythm-whip back, overhead strike forward till there was satisfying sound of metal clunking against flesh, the leather beating roughly over taunt skin , dragging the weapon backwards to get the entire effect of pain before repeating the entire process. While she did prefer her dagger, she was quite skilled with the whip, using it skillfully, like an extension of her arm. The whip had been her first weapon she had been trained in those centuries ago, a present for her fifth birthday--strange, she didn't even remember when her birthday was anymore. The years had just started to meld together, one continuous circle of time. But...oh, so proud she had been of that leather tassle, scarcely bigger then a branch of a willow tree, so proud of this chance to emulate her father. She had carried it around with her everywhere, practicing it on anyone, anything, even into her sister's secret hiding area and torturing her animals relentlessly with it. How Kela had cried that day, to find all the precious creatures she had faithfully cared for pitifully mangled. And Kea, she had sobbed at the older girl's woe, promising never to pick up a whip again.
This memory was so vivid that Keaira would falter, whip falling limp in her hand as she stumbles back a step, heels slipping on the tiled floor. It is all she can do to keep from slipping and falling to the ground.Oh what an impression that would make upon this new slave, to see her Mistress on the ground. No! She couldn't allow it! Wouldn't allow it!! Appearance was everything in her line of work...what slave would cower before a Mistress whom could not even stay upon her own feet. Rightening herself, she would shake her head to clear it. For the first time in a long time, she feels almost...weak..Fingers of her free hand reach up to grasp the pendant about her neck, seeming to then get her second wind. Weak, her? Impossible! She was not weak! She was strong, within her element here. To even suggest that she...Mistress of this realm, control of countless lives, slavery queen, was weak, was simply proposterous!
She would take one mighty stomp forward, placing her again at the edge of the platform, begin again to whip her prone victim as though nothing had just happened. Her work becomes almost methodical as she starts at the girl's feet, delivering two hard strikes before moving up a few inches up her legs, leaving not a single area neglected from the striking ove the whip. Whip moved over flesh like a paintbrush, bruises and welts rising to criss cross the surface of the skin. Further up her body she would move, hitting her firmly across the pelvis, the torso, the stomach and chest with a vengence as her mind reviewed. So deeply in thought had she been that she had nearly missed the responses--nearly, but not quite. Her memory was near photographic, letting her flip back those few moments, considering the answers she had recieved.
Aerillia was only 25...a bit older, but an age that would allow her to get at least a good year or so worth or work out of her if she managed to make it through Kea's rigorous training. So few did it seemed, many not even lasting the first night. But it was a way to weed out the weakest, to get rid of those who would only hold her down, taking up time and energy she did not have to spare. Rillia though, she seemed hopeful, already having learned the benefits of obedience, not being childish and spiteful in trying to deprive Keaira of her beautiful pained screams like so many of her predescessors. Ah yes...this one just might make it to the year mark. And, if she didn't, no great loss. There would be others! Now...what race had she declared herself to be? Ysaena, was it not? Such a people was unknown to Keaira, but she would fill this bit of information away for future reference. She would check around, see what the current market value was on a healthy 25 year old female Ysaena speciman.
Giving one final strike to the girl's torso area, she would calmly set the weapon down upon her captive's stomach, a reminder that that would not be the last time she felt the harsh sting of the whip. one hand combing through the thick mass of brown hair…her other hand lightly tracing with sharply manicured fingernails along the jaw line of her bound victim. Her hands moved now down her victim's arms…across her chest and her tummy, touching lightly here, there, touching no where all at once, a way of showing the girl that she was now a possession, to be used in any manner that Keaira deemed desirable. She now had the girl's body…soon to come was her mind, then her soul…it would occur soon enough..patience.. Spitefully, her fingernails would press into the multiple wounds...fingers brought to her lips to taste the delicious nectar of blood.
"Such a shame..." Her voice oozing with mock sympathy as she steps back now to circle the room, "You were doing well...so very well, right until that last question." Returning to the bound girl, holding in her hand the dagger that had been used to coerce Aerillia to her current posistion. "I did not ask you what you were willing to do! Of course you will do whatever I ask--you are mine now, mine and you will do whatever it is I command of you! I asked you what skills you have. You really must pay better attention, listen more closely. My word is now your law and to commit infractions against The Law will cause you further intense pain and suffering." She draws the blunt edge of the blade over Rillia's flesh in an almost careless manner, admiring how the glittering of silver contrasted so beautifully with her piece of art. "Thus...your answer was displeasing to me and now I am going to have to carve you up...I am, after all, a woman of my word! "
And with that, the dagger is plunged into the right arm, just above the armpit. She would twist the weapon around, jerking it through flesh and muscle and tissue, gleefully watching as blood would pool around the entry sight. The dagger is pulled down through the skin about three inches. The weapon would be heinously jerked out, then stabbed in again, this time pulling down towards her last incision, roughly carving a "K" in the girl's arm. "Once more, I ask and expect and honest and respectful answer! Do you have any noticable skills or talents? Can you cook? Clean? Previous experience? Don't hold back...such gifts could be the only thing that keeps you alive...that, and the beauty of your screams. And what shall happen once your voice wears out?"
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Feb 24, 2005 10:22:30 GMT -5
If Aerillia had taken any notice of Kea falling away she didnt make any move to note it. It all seemed painful, movement, blinking, talking...screaming. It all became one rote form of functioning. The whip biting down into her flesh, the metal scraping along the grooves caused by the leather. To her, it was a never ending stream of pain. Could it get any worse? Could this woman mangle her any more?
"Thus...your answer was displeasing to me..." What the hell did she expect her to say? She could barely comprehend what was being said only to come to the sickening realization that Kea had that blasted knife out again. Panic wells up in her body, in her mind, in her soul. Just what was she going to do with that thing? Kea couldnt have all of Aerillia, she had made sure of that by locking the parts of her that were real and her sanity, deep inside her brain and inside herself. The shine of the knife is obscured slightly and when Kea shifts it, Aerillia can see that her body is indeed in sore shape. Then the thought occurs to her that it was about to be in an even worse shape...
The blessed moments it takes Kea to plunge her knife into the muscle under Aerillia's arm, she takes the chance to look away. The sickening pop of muscle, tendon, and flesh fill her ears; richocheting off the hollow walls of her mind. She felt like she might be sick with the sound of it had not the pain come crashing through the sickness like a maddened bull. If she had the ability to jerk her body away, she might have done so but it felt as if the knife had her pinned to the table (to say nothing of her body behing held down by straps and chains). Again the slicing of the knife is felt and all thoughts of itching or welts or past blood spilt is gone. Screaming until she couldnt possibly scream again, and then some, Aerillia finally croaks out an answer. Her head turning to look at Kea as the warm pool of her own blood seeped under her body and slowly starts its journey over the ledge of the stone table.
"I cook. I clean. I...protect. I serve. I...was a.." with the pain lancing up her arm it was beginning to become harder and harder to think and keep herself concious. It felt as if Kea might have twisted magic about her knife in hopes of creating even more pain in Aerillia. It hadnt hurt this much when she was shot with an arrow. Somehow she manages to carry on. "I was a...priestess. I...can use weapons..." Now that might not be such a smart thing to tell Kea, but at this juncture Aerillia would confess all sins in hopes to cast herself somewhere other than this place, this table. Had she known that Kea would be so cruel she would have raged against her. To what end though? Her death.
She begins to list off her wide range of abilities with some difficulty, but each of the abilities is punctuated by a 'mistress' when they roll off of her tongue as she fights with her narrowing field of vision. However the black fuzziness at the edge of her conciousness made it so she didnt have to see the K in her arm and how mangled she was. It would be a while before she would be able to sufficiently use that arm again. Luckily it wasnt her sword arm and a shield might be strapped to it for defensive purposes. Some of her abilities, such as making certain foods and jewelry, weaponry, etc. would in the end make Kea money if she were ever allowed to handle such things. Her knowledge in herbs is substantial and she would in the end be able to prolong the lives of Kea's slaves, or kill them quicker if she wished it so. All of this was open knowledge for Kea, but it felt like a damning for Aerillia. She didnt want to be here, she didnt want to go through this, she didnt want that knife in her anymore...so she divulged some of her abilities. Enough to let Kea know she is an able bodied woman and a fine catch indeed.
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Post by Keaira on Feb 24, 2005 20:57:04 GMT -5
Perhaps she had been a bit hasty in classifying the bitch as completely worthless. Now, the fighting, she wasn't too keep about and briefly she considers taking some action that would keep Aerillia from trying anything stupid. Maybe stab her a couple times in the hand, make it impossible for her to hold a weapon, or perhaps breaking a bone within her leg, crippling her--she wouldn't be so mighty a warrior then! However, she decides not to be too hurried. After all, Keaira had no proof of this one's fighting ability, only her word...and Keaira had been in this business long enough to realize that the word of slaves could not always be trusted. Some would say most anything if they thought it might save them from further pain and intense suffering. Such a claim to be able to fight might have been bluffing, an attempt at intimidating Kea. Aerillia had yet to make any negative actions against Kea, not even in the slightest. Those that were fighters usually made an opportunity out of the time after they were released from dagger's grip and the time before they were strapped down to stage an attack against The Mistress. Rillia had behaved with nothing other the complete submission, even when granted small freedoms. Perhaps she had realized that this was her fate and hence was inescapable no matter how skilled a fighter she might be...perhaps as a priestess, she was not allowed to fight and had only learned such a skill before she had taken such a title.... maybe she was waiting for Kea's guard to go down before making a move against her...or possibly, she was no fighter at all..
Whatever the case might be, she would just have to wait and see...until then, she would keep from rash actions that might disable Rillia and hinder her ability to work. The fighter and priestess aspects of her resume not included, she was beginning to shape up into quite the worker. Provided, of course, that she could honestly perform all the skills to such a high extent of ability as she claimed. It seemed almost too good to be true...perhaps this was some pathetic attempt to make herself appear indispensible to Keaira and hence save her miserable life. Keaira was suitably impressed by the girl's apparent talent with herbs...that had certain potential. Rianna could certainly use some assistance in her creation of various potions and poisons used by Kea in her torments of innocents. Still, Keaira was hesitant to let a slave with such knowledge anywhere near ingredients that she might mix into deadly combinations for usage against her Mistress. Especially when Ria's loyalties seemed to flip so frequently, she would be useless in monitoring Rillia, and Kea was not wasting her precious time baby-sitting a working slave. The same went for cooking--no way could she let the woman near herbs and spices, not without keeping a constant close eye upon her usage of those. Skilled labor...now there was a possiblity, and something she would definitly look into, to see how sincere such an admission was. If she indeed showed a talent for in the area of metal working, then it just might prove to be quite a profitable venture for Kea...quite profitable indeed.
Almost reluctantly the dagger is pulled from jerked from the gaping hole in Aerillia's arm, dripping with the whore's precious life liquid, bits of skin and flesh flecking it's surace. As much as she enjoyed the feeling of the sharp blade as it teared through flesh and muscle, the visage provided by the sweet red liquid pooling from the wound to drip upon the stone tablet, the damage had now been wrought and it was time for her to return her attention to other matters...important matters. The interrogation was not over...not by a long shot!! Greedily black tongue, long and forked like that of her serpentine ancestors slithers out, flickering over the surface of the blade, cleaning it of blood and other body particles. Delicious...coppery, not sweet like the blood of a child, yet not bitter like the taste a half breed might have. It was more tangy, laced with something Keaira couldn't quite place...maybe it was the priestess aspect of her make-up. Keaira would push her finger into the wound, swirling it around within the blood like one might stir an expensive drink. This blood too she would eagerly taste. So this...this was Yseana...it was almost familiar, though Keaira was near positive she had never stocked such a species before. She pushes her finger in again, spitefully probing deeply with her nail, not caring about such insignificant details as infection. Again she would eagerly taste the blood, acting as though she were at an all you can eat buffet, the pulsating wound upon Aerillia's arm serving as the main course. Her lips would purse thoughtfully as she sucked upon her fingers...it was similar to the blood of that tattooed bitch...the theif, though not quite. Intriguing...it was something she would have to ponder later.
"Stay!" Keaira commands as she once more turns away from table, chuckling to herself at this command, which she found quite humorous considering Aerillia's current posistion. There was no doubt that she would stay as she had been placed--she had no choice! This time it is towards a bucket in the opposite corner that Keaira moves towards. Squatting down, she would grasp the tin cup floating in the depths of the murky liquid, filling it with just a few inches of water. It is washing water, used by slaves to scrub the room in a final bit of humiliation after a torture session and is hence quite oily, filled with hair and bits of dirt and grime, even blood and pieces of vomit. The cup is carried over to her potions table and a stimulant poured in and swirled around within the liquid--she didn't want the girl to pass out prematurely! Aeri had a long and painful twenty-four hours of initiation ahead of her and Keaira wanted her to be awake, able to feel each and every miserable moment. It was the only way to know if she was worth keeping...
"I'm sure you're thirsty, slave." Plugging the girl's nose so that she would have no choice but to keep her mouth open, she would pour the water over her face. If it made it into her mouth so be it, but if it didn't, then so be it...as long as a couple drops of the stimulant made it in, Keaira was quite content. The water was not a reward, not something she was offering Aerilia out of the kindness of her heart. She had no heart. No...she was only giving her water with which to wet her lips and perhaps revive her to some extent. A hoarse slave did not scream loud...and Keaira wanted to hear the screams, wanted to bring forth those sweet sounds of agony. It was all for her pleasure, every action on her part was for her own happiness--if another managed a fringe benefit, so be it...but that was not the important matter.
Picking up the whip from where she had placed it on Aeri's belly, she would snap it through the air, getting a feel of it once more. She had given the bitch enough of a break...there were questions, more pressing questions that she must have answered. Bringing the whip down, she would hit at Aerillia's torso, falling back into an easy rhythm. "What were you doing in the woods with those men? Who is this queen you asked be informed? What is your relationship to her? Remember to answer honestly and respectfully!"
I hereby officially dedicate this post in all its specatularness to Jiminy (Jen), my inspiration, and to LuLu (Laurie), my dictionary and thesausarus! Kudos chicas!
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Lady Aerillia Khisu
Citizen
My wounds cry for the grave--My soul cries for deliverance
Posts: 35
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Post by Lady Aerillia Khisu on Mar 1, 2005 21:11:24 GMT -5
Compared to what had happened before, the probing of Keaira's finger was nothing to Aerillia. In fact she was glad for the granted reprieve. When the water is offered to her she manages to somehow drink some without swallowing any of the foul hunks of vomit. The itching on her body was growing to a crescendo and yet the stinging of the multiple lacerations and her bleeding arm seemed to overshadow the entire itching event.
In the back of her mind, Aerillia knew that the whipping would start all over again. It was inevitable. It was as if Keaira had an insatiable need for abuse: oh wait no she did. The ebony haired woman stretched out on the table doesnt at all seem to be herself as Kea snatches the whip off of her bruised and battered abdomen. I knew it...
As Kea gets back into her rhythm Aerillia sinks further into dismay and agony. It becomes a hollowed out routine to her and she wonders if the pain would ever stop. SNAP! CRACK! SWISH! And Scream. Lets not forget scream. When the first question is asked, Aerillia very nearly missed hearing it as it was timed perfectly to her scream. Kea was obviously looking for a reason to keep giving the Desert Rose pain, but if she could help it at all she wasnt going to allow it. After all, she had locked away the precious few things that were the key to her sanity.
"I was on my way to Avalon, Mistress." Aerillia manages to utter the sentence between the lancing strikes of the whip. "The men were my..." a jagged pain pierces her delicate side and causes her to cry out. It almost felt as if the metal spikes were lodged in her skin and the way Kea yanked they must have been. "The men were my guard..." Aerillia just manages to get through that ordeal before the next question slides out of Keaira's savage mouth. "The Queen is High Queen of Ulster..." Now her sentences didnt make much sense, as if the grasping hand of blessed unconciousness was finally taking hold of her. It wasnt, she couldnt be so lucky as to have that small benefit. "She is known to many...many countries and Kingdoms mistress. I am known to her as her friend and a Priestess of Avalon." How she managed to talk through the last onslaught of whipping seems utterly amazing. It was as if she might be drawing on the aching pain and using it to bolster herself and her defenses.
Kea had no idea what sort of 'slave' she had landed. Neither had her mother's family. Her own mother was the only creature next to Theo (who was now dead) and Kahlan, that knew her secret. Her very powerful secret.
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