Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
*the Gymnasium has been cleared, the girl
standing in her night clothes, not so different from her normal attire but that
it looks somewhat more comfortable than the tailored perfection she's usually
garbed in. there's been a triangle laid out in fine silk string, a spool at each
point, all three carefully connected, foreign runes inscribed on their tops and
bottoms.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
*the gymnasium is chill, pale girl standing at the furthermost point of her
triangle, bent at the knees, murmering in a soft arcane language as she draws a
red ribbon slowly back along one plane of the triangle. she's moving like liquid
close to becoming ice, very slowly, and from the slight sheen on her forehead,
its taking great effort to move with such patience, look on her face hollow*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
*a set of Ingvar's cufflinks, the ones he'd worn
last night in fact, glint nearby, scattered away from what she's doing
carelessly. almost thrown. she moves carefully, slender white finger guiding the
ribbon as she murmers softly in enochian.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}: *a
triangle within the larger delicate one. three bills with a small pile of
precious gems in the middle of them, dimaonds angled precisely as the girl moves
along, commanding fate with the soft choked sorrow of her voice, asking to see*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: Enochian: 5,9,7,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: Arete (wp): 10,4,10,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: arete (wp): 1,6,6,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: arete: 8,6,4,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: arete: 8,5,8,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: arete: 8,3,2,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: arete (wp): 6,8,2,
Ravyn:
d10: Paradox Damage: 8,9,5,
Ravyn: ((Roll
them soakies))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
d10: soaking: 4,3,10,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
*and as always when one meddles with the strings of fate, fate protects herself,
the pale girl gasping suddenly as images bombard her senses, a pale hand comes
to her head, white creature stepping back from her ritual as though she's been
shocked, red bubbling between white fingers and drizzling to the floor. grey
eyes widen in horror*
Ravyn: Abbey
finds herself assaulted by the massive magics she's unleashed, and she suffers a
serious nosebleed ((1 Bashing)). In addition, she is completely, for the rest of
the day, unable to judge the passage of time whatsoever. Time doesn't slow down
or speed up...it's not like the day seems to last a year...but if she tries to
figure out how long it's been for ANYTHING, she gets disoriented and suffers
vertigo (-2 to all actions during this time).
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}: *a gasp. her breathing shallow, ribbon slipping from her hand as she dribbles red down the pristine whiteness of her nightclothes, her bloody hand drawn back, she takes a moment to appraise the situation.. just a nosebleed... she stands, slowing her breathing and gathering her thoughts, images swirling in her head, she attempts to sort and remember them*
Ravyn:
((And at this point, we must pause, and I will have to hand this over to Ashton,
since it's his SL. *S*))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
..... *45 minutes later she's standing in an ice cold gymnasium. blood down her
front, she glances around and begins gathering her supplies, once her arms are
full she tucks the ribbon in her pocket. lips pursed as she gives a slight
shiver. it was cold. it was likely still early morning.. a glance to the
cufflinks on the floor that she couldn't bing herself to scry on. her lips purse
again, and she plucks them into her non bloody palm, moving to open the
gymnasium door*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}: ((okies))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
((mod all instances of "ribbon" to "severed
arm"... and apply common sense.. for example.. the "severed arm" is not tucked
in her pocket.. but instead wrapped carefully in a plastic bag))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
*bright light causes her to turn her head back towards the darkened gymnasium.
grey eyes scalded by the sun.. she blinks as her eyes adjust. what in the
name of fate..what time must it be? how long had she been in the gymnasium..
surely not that long.. She's overtaken with a sudden wave of dizziness,
moving slowly to the manor house. perhaps. she needed to eat?*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor - A.M.}:
*visions swimming in glass grey eyes, she shudders, torn between blocking it out
for her sanity, and preserving in in perfect detail so as to relate to ingvar..
Ingvar...could he.. surely.. no. she shakes her head to herself and
weaves a little dizzily. no. .. her hand finds cufflinks in her pocket, a
purse of lips.. and she slips into the manor, to shower until she feels clean..
and to figure out what time it was..*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she
moves, glancing at a clock as she enters her suite and feeling the world tilt
and crash she moves to the loveseat quickly, blinking.. oh dear.. her hands fold
in her lap as she stares at the floor, tryingto regain her balance. usually she
had such wonderful balance.. hence the tightrope work..this would not do. in a
few minutes, just a few, she would eat.. but for now.. the images of horrible
wolf beasts dance in glass grey eyes*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *In a sense, the young
Judge's search for the woman had never really ended.. absconded with comfort by
leaving their bed.. but never truly been able to remove her from what was, at
all times, a steel trap of a mind.. an image captured remains, and he pictures
the photo of them dancing frequently.. it harried him, during his day.. and does
not cease as he comes home later that night. Bright headlights sweep across the
immaculate grounds of Randelle Manor.. he presses a button in the Suv, and the
garage door lifts to admit him.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *It's
been a breif morning, girl still sitting on the loveseat, a few minutes having
passed in her mind as she is swallowed by memories of her vision, arms still
full of the aids for her ritual, severed arm and plastic bag having been set at
her feet, blood stains still violent red against her white bed clothes. she
blinks at thenoise but thinks nothing of it. ingvar will not be home until..a
slight pinch of her brow as she shuders*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Such a powerful,
implacable creature, during the day.. one few would come against and survive..
the Judge's pale eyes slip to one hand, he curls it into a fist... the leather
of his gloves creaks... good.. strength.. physical, and mental power- both
considerable... but the woman up there.. an enigma he can often not unravel. The
Monster lurks for a while in the garage... finishing his cigarette.. slender
fingers pluck the butt from the cigarette holder.. he considers the merits and
drawbacks of killing the woman... considering, discarding, in turn.. he arrives
at a conclusion and seeks the steps upward.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Maddening... she makes
madness.. but.. the image of the photo flashes in his mind again.. such
potential.. he considers to ~try~ to see things in terms of such.. but the
booming heart of one more than only man sounds too loudly. He changes his mind-
three times- but continues up the steps with the rhythmic grace of a machine,
pale green eyes practically glowing in the dark.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she's
oblivious to the blood on her face, having dried there long ago. to her only
minutes have pased since the visions firts overtook her and she made her way to
the manor. she shivers silently, a hand smoothing over her arms. oh dear. it
was chill. peculiar.. wait.. grey eyes scan flick suddenly though the
darkened suite, understanding finally what was at odds... why was it dark?
*
Ingvar Urgahaldt (Randelle Manor, P.M.):
*He comes from the garage smoothly... the maid too, experiencing the sudden
swell of the Lord's presence.. how he seems to fill any space.. but seems upon
you before you notice. As she gasps to suddenly see him, pale eyes flick across
the woman with the adroit skill of one who could kill to eat... and move on. The
woman forgoes greeting, chosing silence as he moves with firm command to the
steps of the suite... the distant, inspiring rumble of his voice floating back
down the stairs as he strides...* IS the madame at home?
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *the girl
stands, perplexed by the stiffness of her slnder legs, the cramping of her
joints, a slight gasp in the dark as she realizes.. yes.. its dark..its midday
and its entirely dark.. surely it was still midday? She moves towards the
light but is overtaken by dizziness, eyes shutting as she sinks back down to the
sofa, suddenly ill..darkness suddenly taking a back seat to not disgracing
herself by vomitting..a loud series of thunks as the thread spools roll off the
couch and onto the floor*
Ingvar Urgahaldt (Randelle Manor, P.M.):
*The door slips open only far enough to admit him- the stern Juge blinks as he
enters the room... frozen for a moment.. his origional decision arrived at yet
again by the vision before him. The heart thuds louder than the mind, even in
such as he.. the overcoat puddles on the floor.. gun and knife rather brazen
against the backdrop of a white dress shirt that graces a powerful form... he
moves to Abbey with silent dedication he would never admit to.. no small sounds
of comfort learned from childhood ticking from him.. there were none. What he
does is all learned since the porcelain creature.* All is well, Chushmya.. I am
here.. *Powerful arms slip under her, lift her only slowly as he moves her
toward the bed.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Nostrils flare at the
scent of blood.. but nothing ~else~ on her.. no scent of an enemy that he could
easily sense in this form.. but a nosebleed... it must come from close.. pale,
almost inhuman eyes flick back to her upper lip.. her nightgown.. the one from
last night- it doesn't smell of detergent.. all of these things flicker through
his head as he gathers her.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Ingvar..
what. its so dark.. *she murmers, looking up to him as he picks her up, confused
and very very dizzy, bloody little albino spilling diamonds and 3 hundred dollar
bills to the floor as she's lifted, confusion muted on her features* I cannot..
*she blinks in confusion* the ritual was a success.. I have seen, moments ago.
and yet.. its dark? *her head lolls slightly to his shoulder, dizziness sweeping
over her*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *the
girl is radiating cold, but then, perhaps she is frightened... though she
doesn't appear so.. slightly ill and genuinely perplexed, her eyes slipping to
ingvar with something of an old familiar fear in them, one he'd likely hoped had
been put, for the most part, behind them*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Ignored. She's hurt..
these things seem to encompass the whole of his attention. Of course she is
frightened.. he is a Shadow Lord- and she is no fool. He rests her gently on the
bed, pale eyes scanning across her nose, her form.. She does not... look
injured.. pale pools flick back to her face.* You... you did it? Yourself? *As
he speaks- nearly clinical, but for the softness only they can identify, the
hands of a murderer smooth across Abbey.. positioning her for comfort as he
speaks.* It is late in the evening, Chushmya.. ssshh.. rest.. tell me how you
were hurt..
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Frost gathers on his
forearms.. he doesn't seem to know.. not so cold as the mountains of Hungary.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *...but... he rubs at one arm, eyes then slipping to the prone albino.. very close...*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Yes..
Injured? *she brings a hand to her face, noting him looking at her, visions of
wolves in crinos suddenly blotting out the stoic hungarians face, eyes widenning
slightly she gives a quick intake of breath.. yes. business. her voice rings
clear and soft as she murmers* A massacre, in central park.. there was a woman,
a tainted mage, long red hair, wearing red and black leather.. .. she
administered the ribbons...within a circle of the same. 15 men total.. *she
takes a breath, shuddering as she makes like a good little seer and spouts her
vision off in as much detail as possible*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *His demeanor moves from
attention to her wounds, to rapt attention to her words.. his hand settles to
her abdomen.. perhaps the motion comforts.. perhaps he is merely mindful of her
swiftness, should she want to leave.. pale eyes rivet to hers.. he leans
slightly to listen.. the flick- flick of them across her body, then back,
nothing a man would do.. a creature under his skin takes up the scent as his
hands continue to soothe.* I understand... go on, as you need...
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *One mindful thumb
hooks under a concealed quick- release strap to his arsenal.. the collection of
weapons and ammunition draped to the floor carefully... he never looks... merely
smoothing her pillow, smoothing the divan across her..*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: the
ribbons were tied prior to being administered, A ward blots the ritual which
made them.. though its the red haired woman who did so.. she speaks in a
language of magic unknown to me.. *its all spoken quickly, in a hushed tone..
she goes on to describe Miranda of the spet..* this woman fought, and was
enchanted by the Redhaired woman.. a powerful effect placed on her mind..
..this.. there were.. *she stops, bloody white body rigid and cold, icy grey
eyes on his*.. can you do ..as they did?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He thinks for a
moment... american television.. american movies... anything.. any part of his
indoctrination.. settle, settle, Judge.. then he finally finds an answer.* ssssh...
sssshhhh.. I am as you see me.. yours. Right here, Chushmya.. your Ingvar.. *The
words proceed as they should, he gives effort to making them real.. I can, my
love... and I am, at all times.. only under the skin.. but for now.. only
yours.* What they did was strange.. odd to you, Chushmya... do not fret.. I am
right here, for you. *He is intent... her eyes capture his human hand curling
about her dainty one.. ensuring it is in her eyes as well, and holding her
softly.* Please... get it all out of you, Abbey...
Ingvar Urgahaldt (Randelle Manor, P.M.):
*Powerful hands slip against her face... her chin.. soothing, and real. With
fingers... only well manicured.. not the killing claws beneath.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Ingvar..
Pleas do not.. *she shudders instinctively and moves to draw an icy hand away,,
murmering almost inaudibly at first, as the lingering visions of garou in their
war form steal the force of the delicate albino's breath. she gains in strength
however as she continues* six fell, no... was not a massacre, ... certain
targets were overlooked for others.. there was method.. *her fair porcelion
features pinch slightly as she continues* the men before the strike, gathered
with the circle of ribbon... it was a large room .. slightly larger than the
gymnasium.. dark towarrds the outer limits.. the redhaired woman came from her
sanctum.. she can flit from hither to there.. as mr. kennedy could..
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The powerful hand
closes... but does withdraw.. only through effort is he able to keep focused..
the odd wail inside as she refuses to touch him.. it lessens only as the Judge
clamps down.. recites the Code of Judges.. the Worth of the Inquisitor to
himself... but it still cuts.. cold, she may be.. but his... right? The hand
curls at his side.. he is careful.. and cut.. to keep his touch from her.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: I know... they are all
gone, now.. but.. Chushmya.. from where did they come? Who was it.. who sent
them?
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He watches, as she is
given to the visions again..*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she
raisees a bloodied white finger. she is remembering.. do not interrupt* A year
passes.. it is blocked from my sight. the mages sanctum.. a place of safety
warded against my eyes. ... the ribbon itself is purchased from an occult
store.. this city. It is.. *a moment to think.. grey eyes rolling up as she
searches for specifics in her memory* All Things dark.
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The hands that want
her fold in dignified silence into his lap... and clench, but slowly.. keep
still... only listen.. his people know enough of the Hags of the tribe to slip
back.. without rippling the bed.. from this, he is removed.. a glance at her
form.. at the place, the apex of her legs, his superstition identifies as the
seat of her power... a cant of the head.. in case her body is watching,
guarding, while her mind wanders. He does not touch her again- the Judge knows
where and when to give respects.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: I can see
only so far as the ribbon.. perhaps where i to cast upon the arm.. It appears
the woman is in control.. i see no clear leader but her.. the red headed
woman.... *her voice slips to a whisper, eyes staring far off, slight chill
rolling off her, she brings a slender hand to rub her arm, a breath breathed
slowly throgh her nose*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He only listens, for a
moment... perhaps imagining the difference in intonation.. when Abbey is truly
Abbey, rather than the sum of the Norns speaking though her..* Do you think..
you might get a sense... of her name? Where she came from? How she arrived, or
where from? *He seems close to breathless... but only to her. Any other..
perhaps even the prostrate girl.. would see him only as collected... quiet.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The judges eyes fog..
he settles on his haunches.. merely settling himself on the corner of the bed..
as he moves through the rhythms of her speech.. the forms there.. what she said,
as opposed to what he might decipher..* ((wits+enigmas, Int+enigmas after he
calms down, a bit later.))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: She is
warded.. no name given in the span of time the ribbon was in her possesion..
only the language spoken..unfamiliar.. a hotel, from which she flit.. perhaps a
hotel register..a signature.. *the address the red head had given to the cabbie
is murmered to ingvar as she comes back to herself, a small clenched hand coming
to brush hair from her eyes numbly, opening as something falls on the bed in two
small clinks. cufflinks. it takes a moment before her eyes drift down, still
somewhat distracted by visions of a crinos claw ripping through her former
ribbon woner*
Ingvar Urgahaldt:
d10: : 9,2,5,2,8,
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she
blinks a moment in confusion. how had those gotten there?.. it had been ..oh
yes... the morning.. but that had been but moments ago, when she'd -
Sickeing vertigo overwhelms her and her eyes flutter back into her head a
moment.. she slumps sideways partially, the better to stop the room from
spinning in protest of her thinking temporally*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Noticed.. identified..
cupped from under her hand, carefully. Pale eyes slip to them, then to the
woman.. and back. They drift to a pocket, but he still does not touch her. There
was that time.. near Prague.. the gypsy woman.. she wanted no man to touch her
until the images eased..* Chushmya... have you any need? *The language is
ritualized just so.. easy to understand in either english or french.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she
lies still, cold and bloody.. wanting touched but plagued by both images which
flit across closed eyes, and the reminder of her own cowardice. a rabbits howl
is stifled behind tightly drawn lips, pale girl remaining still as possible. had
she any need..? she hardly knew any more what precisely would comfort*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *Chushmya..
that was comfort. that bore nothing of claw and snarling muzzle.. only the sting
of its long absence from her ears. How long since he'd said such. and who did he
say such to now in her stead. drawn out of him in pity? no.. she makes to stand,
but again is overthrown with dizziness.. her hands ball into fists*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The young Magyar's mind
takes him on other lines of thought.. the address. Such things prepared a year
ago.. strong hands steeple, then flex together as he cradles a regal chin on the
knuckles.. It moves several steps beyond him.. the process of thought.. as he
soaks in the images Abbey's words brought, pale eyes flick back to her. an
eyebrow canting swiftly.. it seems... she is not forgotten.. or is, perhaps,
still a part of the young Judge's focus.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *One hand settles on
her... easing her back to bed.. though not forceful.. rather, cradling, if
precise.* Do not rise, Chushmya... whatever you wish, I will bring, yes?
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: I wish to
shower.. There is much blood Ingvar.. *she murmers, a hand slipping to her face
to lightly feel the crust of dried blood marring milky skin*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He nods... teeth clench under his lips.. he is not to touch her.. well.. that ends rather abruptly. Not only for the evening, but for some time.. the creature assists Abbey from the bed carefully.. there is a sort of reverence in his cosmopolitan assistance as he guides her toward the door. Not swaying? Entirely his own place.. but not walking.. if her legs are not strong enough, she should not have risen. But the Judge remains prepared to catch her.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Thinking better of
it, the young Judge takes a part of the womans slight weight.. again training,
indoctrination.. though he sees it only as care. She should grow accustomed to
his assistance..*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((DLP))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *a slight
shiver as he presses close, eyes shutting as she allows him to help her, moving
to the wash basin rather than the shower.. she sliply whites her face and hands
thoroughly, sanitizes carefully, while leabing on him. she looks at herself in
the mirror, then slips grey eyes to his reflection, searching his face for
anything of the visions she'd seen. anything of the 9 foot monster haunting her
thoughts*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: (she
simply wipes)
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He watches her...
calmly blinking eyes.. aristocratic bearing.. as she looks at him, only the same
aristocratic features.. perhaps the ice that makes it little more than a mask
fades, just a touch. He watches as she wipes... eyes slipping across her yet
again.. perhaps seeking injury.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *No hint of the
creatures she saw.. such beasts.. are not present, it would seem, in Ingvar..
but for that slowly boiling sense inside him.. that same thing she always saw..
the waiting anger.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: I will
sleep *she murmers, with a sudden shudder, a slight frown before she looks back
up at him in the mirror. she turns around very slowly, as though frighteneing
his reflection will prove false, and she will face a slavering wolfman*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *His arm wraps around
her.. cradling her back to the bed.. which she is eased into.. carefully placed
under covers smoothed across her by human hands.. pale eyes continue to switch
against the woman.* Would you like to be alone, Chushmya..? *A rare moment of
allowance.. he would never ask, before..*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Her hair is smoothed,
pale eyes trace it.. her skin touched again.. good.. she is whole.. he is
careful.. and deliberate in seeking such things. As careful as his eyes find
hers.*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((...carefully as his
eyes find..))
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she
purses her lips, considering. was she weak to want him. knowing that he
hadn't touched her in weeks.. knowing he had- eyes close as she turns her
chin from him. ow. a shiver runs through her slender body, and she slips to lay
her head on the satin pillow. not bearing to look at the dark hungarian as she
whispers something more of a mouthful then she'd intended* I would not like to
be alone.
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *its
nearly inaudible. her eyes shut against the truth and weakness of it as she
sinks into her pillow and lies still,*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: *One thumb slips along
her jaw.. heralding the approach of fine lips that hover inches above her cheek
as he whispers, in the rumble of distant thunder.* Neither would I... *He does
take the time to undress, the clothing he wears as a matter of seeming too
constraining.. then bedclothes rustle. His eyes do not close for some time,
however.. shifting in the dark to ensure their safety.*
Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *It seems
a year of being pressed close to the warmth of Ingvar's body before the steady
thump of his heart lulls the pale teenager to sleep. In reality, its perhaps two
minutes of tenseness before her breathing is relaxed and steady, girl curling
into him, pride and hurt forgotten as she dreams. And while later in the night
she will shiver and gasp with nightmares, for the moment she is at peace*
Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((Ftb))