Peregrine
Serf
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- Messages
- 18
I'm looking for someone that is going to be able to post consistently- and fairly quickly. My schedule is usually fairly wide open, and I tend to be able to post multiple times a day once a thread gets going. I can and have been a patient partner, I just prefer quick turn around and lots of reading and writing and the creating a story process. If I'm going to be unable to post for more than a day, I do my utmost to let let my writing partners know. My brain fills with ideas and while I usually have a general idea of plot points and storylines I'm aiming for, I am also able to be flexible and bend to ideas that pop up as I play off my writing partners. I've been writing RP in some form for ~25 years. I am a multi-paragraph writer generally speaking, but when it comes to needing a back and forth I'm perfectly comfortable having posts be short and sweet and too the point. I sometimes wish I was a "less is more" kind of writer, but mostly I'm a "more is more" when it comes to stories.
I am comfortable writing main characters, tossing in side characters- and sharing some of said side characters as necessary. I like to have robust, fleshed out characters and having other 'NPC' type characters I feel is a must with most stories- whether they stick around for a paragraph or become a favorite and weave in and out of a tale, I feel stories need more than the main character I'm writing. I also encourage partners to pull in people as the story develops and ideas strike- so long as things don't get totally derailed in the processes. I am willing to toss around/share ideas/plot points, and would prefer to be able to ooc any major ideas a little if you feel worried it's going to wreck things. I'm also not above retconning something and going back if both of us feel it is necessary.
I don't mind if a story develops into romance, but it doesn't have to be the driving factor and if it does come to that I'm a build up/elude and fade to black when it comes to anything beyond sort of romance writer/partner. I am alright with violence though I don't usually get very gory, and prefer not to ready intimate and graphic details of disembowelments as just and example. Sword play? Gun shot wounds? Sweeping battles? Etc? Sign me up.
I don't care the sex of my partner- so long as they feel comfortable writing the gender of, in this case, the male lead in the story.
So, I have a fairly clear idea of where this story starts, and some things I'd like to hit along the way. Instead of just outlining them, I figured I'd just put what will most likely be the thread start here so you can read and see my style(though not my typical post length as this is just a "starter/thread beginning") and see if it sparks your fancy. If it does, send me a DM and lets see where it goes?
So without Further Ado-
~Falling Shadows~
The first thing that registered was whispering. She didn't remember drinking, and certainly not to the point of being passed out drunk, but she hurt everywhere and the world was rocking. Then there was the slosh of water before she felt something jab her side and she grabbed it, sitting up quickly and growling as the world rocked hard beneath her before she fell back onto something hard and the rocking continued.
There was a squeal and the running steps of two children. "I told you she wasn't dead!" "I'm telling!" One of the footsteps stopped, "NO! I found her! I get to keep her!" Then a redoubling of effort.
She pressed a hand to her head and rubbed her eyes and then shook her head.
"Stupid. Stupid! STUPID!!" she muttered to herself as she opened them, looking up at nothing with their pale, translucent, unseeing blue.
She hadn't been drunk, but harried and exhausted to the point of stupor. Her hands dropped and felt around the rough wood grain of a less than new boat and she took a deep breath and winced at the sudden shock of the sting it brought to her side.
That's when she remembered- she hadn't been on a road or path for days, following the sound of the river through the trees and the smell of its mud and crisp wetness more than anything. She'd been making a wide berth of any settlement or fishing village along it, and last night that had been her downfall. Despite her small fire, she'd attracted the attention of the wildlife. Had it been men and not wolves, she would most likely have been fine, but it wasn't and despite all the skills she'd been taught and the weapons she had brought with her, she'd fallen to running away, the wolves dogging her heels.
She carefully let her hands slide around the small boat, searching for what she knew wouldn't be there- most of her things. She could feel the strap of one of her small bags, and found the hilt of her short sword, but her staff, her other weapons, the supplies she'd need for the rest of her journey- it would all most likely be scattered around the pathetic camp she'd made back where she'd left it to the wolves, wherever that was now.
In her panic to save her life she'd done something she swore she would never purposefully do again and had dipped into that endless stream of life, death, and possibility she could harness, and had found the boat, if it could still be called that. She hadn't remembered much past shoving off and paddling with her hands to get into the middle of the swift water before she'd collapsed. She must have been pushed up along the shore at some point down river.
Her thoughts about the night before were broken as she heard the sound of feet, and voices coming this way again through tall grass, short steps and longer, more reluctant ones. She could smell smoked fish but that didn't give her any indication where she was more than she already knew. "If she's a river nymph, just remember, I found her first and so I get to keep her," the voice of the boy from before said to whoever it was he was dragging with him.
The chuckle about what he'd found being a river nymph was cut off as a large man, from the sound of his stride and the deepness of his laughter attested for anything. But she could also feel where the shadow he cast fell. He was large.
She'd closed her eyes before they'd come up, "See! Told you she was pretty, looks like she's sleeping, but she sat up before." The man looked down on what was clearly a woman, though she was dressed in breeches and leathers. Her face was almost angelic, skin the color of honey, a strong jaw, a straight nose, high cheekbones with cheeks that hinted at dimples, what would be almond shaped eyes when she opened them. Her head was wrapped in a violet head scarf, a fashion mostly seen in the larger and richer cities. Though most women would leave some of their hair out to frame their face, this one had all of hers bound up.
"Sorry, I'm no nymph." She said, and attempted to sit up again, though it hurt, and she only managed to get up on her elbows before she stopped and the boat rocked again.
She heard the boy's shoulders sag in his rough leather tunic.
"Though I could use some help," she acquiesced.
"Go and fetch ur Mum."
"But I want to throw water on her and find out if she's lying."
"None of that. Go. And Fetch ur Mum."
She heard the boy huff, but then turn and run off. The boat shifted under her again, but this time it was being held, though to be pulled ashore or pushed off again, she wasn't sure yet. "You look like you've been in a mite of trouble. There's blood on ye. We don't get many strangers round here, specially not dressed so fine. What's ur business girl?"
A little bit of truth, mingled with the lies was best, she knew. "I'm trying to get to the Jinz healers, to see if they could help me." Lie. She opened her eyes and heard his breath suck in and she quickly closed them and pulled the half veil on her head wrap down over her eyes and nose as the boat shifted, "I was attacked, yesterday I think, by wolves, but I managed to get into the river."
She could feel the man scrutinizing her, debating as she reached up and made sure the tight wrap around her head was still secure.
"You blind from some sickness?"
She almost rolled her sightless eyes, "Born this way." Half truth.
"Where you coming from?"
"Virsilis."
"Long way to come from, and a long way to go, especially on your own... in your... condition."
She sighed, "I've no family left, coming alone was my only option," Lie. It was likely her 'family', and their connections, that were stirring the great powers of Imbria to life to hunt her down, and force her back to the Capitol.
"The blood?"
She sighed. "I slipped pushing off, it's from my own sword. It isn't deep and it stopped bleeding some time ago." She figured he was curious why a blind woman would be carrying a sword in the first place, but it seemed his human nature won out.
She felt the man scrutinizing her for a moment longer but then she felt the boat move and the scrape of stone and mud slide across the wood. "Well, we best look after it for you."
When he reached to help her out, she jerked away, "Don't touch me!" and he froze. She swallowed, that was suspicious. "It's just, I'm not used to being helped... especially from men. I can manage on my own. Thank you." She could still feel him tense, probably wondering if she'd perhaps lied about being sick. That part had been true at least. It was no illness that had made her the way she was.
To prove her able-bodiedness, she pushed herself up and stumbled slightly to get out of the boat. Then she stood a little crooked and sheathed the sword.
Once she was on solid ground she felt more grounded. Living things gave her a sense of things. The dirt filled with roots and bugs and animal life. If she wanted to 'see' where she was, all she had to do was concentrate as she reached out and touched the tall grass that she'd heard stirring in the breeze with her bare hand, but she'd get other things with that. Her fingers stayed curled tight, one of her arms wrapping around her side. It was a bit less painful standing.
The man cleared his throat, "Well then, if you turn just a bit to your left, we'll go up a small embankment and then straight on into the village. You'll need someone to help you stitch up that side. My wife Gail can help, she's a bit of a healer in our village, and I'm Ollie."
"You may call me Ora..." she stopped herself short from giving the trained and conditioned response, Oracle. "Thank you for your help Ollie." She didn't tell him that no one would be touching her at all if she could help it. She patted at her waist and was relieved to find what she was looking for still there. She pulled the gloves still tucked in her belt out and pulled them on tightly with a tug and flex of her fingers as they walked.
As they did, the boy came back, again she could hear someone in tow. Ora suspected it was the mother, Gail, who had been mentioned.
"Ollie?"
"S'all right Gail. This lady, Ora here just needs a bit of looking after. On her way to the Jinz. Says she fell on some bad luck. Though landing here, with you around, suppose her luck turned."
She heard Gail cluck, but suspected she was really flattered by her husband's high appraisal of her skills.
"Well then, come along, we'll get you fixed right up. Looks like you could use a meal too, skinny thing." When Gail reached out and grabbed her unexpectedly around the shoulders she braced herself, but nothing happened and she supposed if she ever got back to the Capitol, she had a seamstress who deserved an extra bit of payment for the special attention she'd taken in the garments she was wearing. Whatever it was she'd said she'd weaved in the cloth, had kept the touch from sending Ora into a vision of Gail's future.
Gail exchanged a look with her husband at her flinch at the touch. Ora could hear him nod and Gail's tightening of her jaw, her teeth grinding slightly. Ora suspected that they had just silently agreed she was some sort of abused runaway- a wife, a servant, a slave perhaps. If Ora actually let Gail help her dress her wound, she would only be more sure of what they had decided after seeing more of her skin. All the better.
"That would be much appreciated. I don't have much, and I lost some of my things, but I can pay..."
"Nonsense." "'Course not." Gail and Ollie's replies came at once.
Ora felt something wet splash over her leg and her head turned.
"Lawrence!" Ora's mouth turned up slightly on one side, a dimple sinking in at the action.
She heard his cry as his father most likely boxed his ear,
"Apologize now." A twist of said ear.
"OW! I just wanted to know for sure she wasn't a nymph! She's pretty as the river stories say! OW! Beggin your pardon Miss."
"It's alright. I'll dry."
"Get on now!" Ollie growled and the boy ran off.
After that, Gail's guiding hands, still not causing her any problems, led Ora to their simple stone home, several people calling out, stopping their work to find out what was going on. Ollie eventually stopped to talk to a few folks as Gail led her inside a building she could only assume was their home.
After several minutes of heated argument over Ora insisting she could dress her wound herself, and Gail hearing nothing of it, Ora finally said, "Then I'll just be on my way."
Gail held her breath and then sighed and Ora heard her sadness, "You've got some terrible secrets I can tell, but I only want to help."
Ora pursed her lips, how to play this- a little more truth- though not the clarifying kind. "I don't like being touched." She heard Gail's teeth grind again, she knew she'd won, but offered, "You can watch and if, after I am done, you look at my work and aren't satisfied, I'll let you do it again."
"Alright."
Despite being hesitant to let the young girl stitch herself up, it turned out to be only six shallow stitches, which had been executed simply and with skill- she'd obviously stitched herself up before. Though she noted the young woman only rolled her shirt up enough to expose the cut and skin a few inches above her hip. Even that small look was enough to show several other scars from who knew what, and a small glimpse of black tattoo scrawled on her spine and at her waistline.
Gail offered her a clean shirt and then left to give her some of the privacy she sensed Ora was craving while she sought out her husband to confirm to him, and those still around him, that the girl had to be some sort of victim and that she wasn't sure they should let her leave.
Once Ora was certain Gail was gone, she gingerly pulled the bloodied shirt off and the first thing she reached for was the pouch at her neck. Her fingers worked quickly across the leather, finding it whole, but she carefully poured out the contents into a palm and meticulously counted the stones as she returned them back in. Twenty-one, all accounted for. She sighed heavily and picked up the needle and thread again. There was another longer and deeper cut that had crusted over and another smaller gash, but she knew had she exposed it, Gail would have insisted on stitching her up.
The previous night had come back to her as they'd walked to the village. She had hoped the cut had been from carelessness on her part, that she'd cut herself with her sword, and if anyone asked that would be what she said, but it wasn't the truth.
She'd heard the wolves long before they'd come for her half made camp. She had a few twigs burning, figuring the light would keep them at bay. It obviously hadn't, and on the banks of the river, she'd wounded and been wounded in return by a large male wolf.
She knew something was odd about the attack, but when she'd put her hand against the thing to pull her blade out and stumble the last few steps to the boat, she'd felt it, 'seen' it in a sense. The wolf, and many creatures of the woods and land like it, had been spelled.
She winced as the needle slipped with her lack of concentration and plunged deeper in her skin than she'd intended. She forced the knowledge from her mind as she quickly finished up, washed and dressed the wound before putting on the shirt Gail had left. Her leather vest must have ridden up, because upon her touch inspection, there were no gashes in. Or it could have fixed itself, as the leather worker hadn't been completely forthcoming or specific about what spells were worked into the things she'd bought.
She mourned the loss of her coat though, as it not only provided protection, but also made her look more like a boy when she styled the wrap on her head in a different color and fashion. Something else she wouldn't be able to do without buying new wraps since all but one other were lost in her pack where she'd left them at her camp in her haste to get away.
With that thought, her mind went back to the spelled wolf. She concentrated on what she'd felt, and the intent behind it. It wasn't meant to kill her, just hurt her to the point of slowing her down, stopping her. There was a buzzing about its mind that made her certain it was being controlled by one of the devices or power players in the Capitol.
She sat down and took a deep breath, clearing her mind of all but the feel of it. It wouldn't be hard to guess at who possessed the resources and the means, there were a great many number of people invested in finding her again- the Emperor, his enemies, The Visionaries, the Lords and Ladies of the capitol, the public that could afford the Visionaries price to see her. All of them would want her back, but only two had the means or influence to get the spell casters to use the devices, or the gods they served that apparently provided the power involved.
Ora sighed, she couldn't place the caster- most likely someone she hadn't met yet as her short term as Oracle before she fled.
She supposed it didn't really matter though. All that mattered was that they were on to her, so she needed to figure out a way to travel faster, or a way to better cover her tracks.
She ran her hands over her person, making sure every bit of skin she could cover was covered, then pulled on the leather gloves that were tucked in her vest pocket. She didn't suppose she'd get out of town tonight, but an evening of rest and recuperation weren't completely out of order.
I am comfortable writing main characters, tossing in side characters- and sharing some of said side characters as necessary. I like to have robust, fleshed out characters and having other 'NPC' type characters I feel is a must with most stories- whether they stick around for a paragraph or become a favorite and weave in and out of a tale, I feel stories need more than the main character I'm writing. I also encourage partners to pull in people as the story develops and ideas strike- so long as things don't get totally derailed in the processes. I am willing to toss around/share ideas/plot points, and would prefer to be able to ooc any major ideas a little if you feel worried it's going to wreck things. I'm also not above retconning something and going back if both of us feel it is necessary.
I don't mind if a story develops into romance, but it doesn't have to be the driving factor and if it does come to that I'm a build up/elude and fade to black when it comes to anything beyond sort of romance writer/partner. I am alright with violence though I don't usually get very gory, and prefer not to ready intimate and graphic details of disembowelments as just and example. Sword play? Gun shot wounds? Sweeping battles? Etc? Sign me up.
I don't care the sex of my partner- so long as they feel comfortable writing the gender of, in this case, the male lead in the story.
So, I have a fairly clear idea of where this story starts, and some things I'd like to hit along the way. Instead of just outlining them, I figured I'd just put what will most likely be the thread start here so you can read and see my style(though not my typical post length as this is just a "starter/thread beginning") and see if it sparks your fancy. If it does, send me a DM and lets see where it goes?
So without Further Ado-
~Falling Shadows~
The first thing that registered was whispering. She didn't remember drinking, and certainly not to the point of being passed out drunk, but she hurt everywhere and the world was rocking. Then there was the slosh of water before she felt something jab her side and she grabbed it, sitting up quickly and growling as the world rocked hard beneath her before she fell back onto something hard and the rocking continued.
There was a squeal and the running steps of two children. "I told you she wasn't dead!" "I'm telling!" One of the footsteps stopped, "NO! I found her! I get to keep her!" Then a redoubling of effort.
She pressed a hand to her head and rubbed her eyes and then shook her head.
"Stupid. Stupid! STUPID!!" she muttered to herself as she opened them, looking up at nothing with their pale, translucent, unseeing blue.
She hadn't been drunk, but harried and exhausted to the point of stupor. Her hands dropped and felt around the rough wood grain of a less than new boat and she took a deep breath and winced at the sudden shock of the sting it brought to her side.
That's when she remembered- she hadn't been on a road or path for days, following the sound of the river through the trees and the smell of its mud and crisp wetness more than anything. She'd been making a wide berth of any settlement or fishing village along it, and last night that had been her downfall. Despite her small fire, she'd attracted the attention of the wildlife. Had it been men and not wolves, she would most likely have been fine, but it wasn't and despite all the skills she'd been taught and the weapons she had brought with her, she'd fallen to running away, the wolves dogging her heels.
She carefully let her hands slide around the small boat, searching for what she knew wouldn't be there- most of her things. She could feel the strap of one of her small bags, and found the hilt of her short sword, but her staff, her other weapons, the supplies she'd need for the rest of her journey- it would all most likely be scattered around the pathetic camp she'd made back where she'd left it to the wolves, wherever that was now.
In her panic to save her life she'd done something she swore she would never purposefully do again and had dipped into that endless stream of life, death, and possibility she could harness, and had found the boat, if it could still be called that. She hadn't remembered much past shoving off and paddling with her hands to get into the middle of the swift water before she'd collapsed. She must have been pushed up along the shore at some point down river.
Her thoughts about the night before were broken as she heard the sound of feet, and voices coming this way again through tall grass, short steps and longer, more reluctant ones. She could smell smoked fish but that didn't give her any indication where she was more than she already knew. "If she's a river nymph, just remember, I found her first and so I get to keep her," the voice of the boy from before said to whoever it was he was dragging with him.
The chuckle about what he'd found being a river nymph was cut off as a large man, from the sound of his stride and the deepness of his laughter attested for anything. But she could also feel where the shadow he cast fell. He was large.
She'd closed her eyes before they'd come up, "See! Told you she was pretty, looks like she's sleeping, but she sat up before." The man looked down on what was clearly a woman, though she was dressed in breeches and leathers. Her face was almost angelic, skin the color of honey, a strong jaw, a straight nose, high cheekbones with cheeks that hinted at dimples, what would be almond shaped eyes when she opened them. Her head was wrapped in a violet head scarf, a fashion mostly seen in the larger and richer cities. Though most women would leave some of their hair out to frame their face, this one had all of hers bound up.
"Sorry, I'm no nymph." She said, and attempted to sit up again, though it hurt, and she only managed to get up on her elbows before she stopped and the boat rocked again.
She heard the boy's shoulders sag in his rough leather tunic.
"Though I could use some help," she acquiesced.
"Go and fetch ur Mum."
"But I want to throw water on her and find out if she's lying."
"None of that. Go. And Fetch ur Mum."
She heard the boy huff, but then turn and run off. The boat shifted under her again, but this time it was being held, though to be pulled ashore or pushed off again, she wasn't sure yet. "You look like you've been in a mite of trouble. There's blood on ye. We don't get many strangers round here, specially not dressed so fine. What's ur business girl?"
A little bit of truth, mingled with the lies was best, she knew. "I'm trying to get to the Jinz healers, to see if they could help me." Lie. She opened her eyes and heard his breath suck in and she quickly closed them and pulled the half veil on her head wrap down over her eyes and nose as the boat shifted, "I was attacked, yesterday I think, by wolves, but I managed to get into the river."
She could feel the man scrutinizing her, debating as she reached up and made sure the tight wrap around her head was still secure.
"You blind from some sickness?"
She almost rolled her sightless eyes, "Born this way." Half truth.
"Where you coming from?"
"Virsilis."
"Long way to come from, and a long way to go, especially on your own... in your... condition."
She sighed, "I've no family left, coming alone was my only option," Lie. It was likely her 'family', and their connections, that were stirring the great powers of Imbria to life to hunt her down, and force her back to the Capitol.
"The blood?"
She sighed. "I slipped pushing off, it's from my own sword. It isn't deep and it stopped bleeding some time ago." She figured he was curious why a blind woman would be carrying a sword in the first place, but it seemed his human nature won out.
She felt the man scrutinizing her for a moment longer but then she felt the boat move and the scrape of stone and mud slide across the wood. "Well, we best look after it for you."
When he reached to help her out, she jerked away, "Don't touch me!" and he froze. She swallowed, that was suspicious. "It's just, I'm not used to being helped... especially from men. I can manage on my own. Thank you." She could still feel him tense, probably wondering if she'd perhaps lied about being sick. That part had been true at least. It was no illness that had made her the way she was.
To prove her able-bodiedness, she pushed herself up and stumbled slightly to get out of the boat. Then she stood a little crooked and sheathed the sword.
Once she was on solid ground she felt more grounded. Living things gave her a sense of things. The dirt filled with roots and bugs and animal life. If she wanted to 'see' where she was, all she had to do was concentrate as she reached out and touched the tall grass that she'd heard stirring in the breeze with her bare hand, but she'd get other things with that. Her fingers stayed curled tight, one of her arms wrapping around her side. It was a bit less painful standing.
The man cleared his throat, "Well then, if you turn just a bit to your left, we'll go up a small embankment and then straight on into the village. You'll need someone to help you stitch up that side. My wife Gail can help, she's a bit of a healer in our village, and I'm Ollie."
"You may call me Ora..." she stopped herself short from giving the trained and conditioned response, Oracle. "Thank you for your help Ollie." She didn't tell him that no one would be touching her at all if she could help it. She patted at her waist and was relieved to find what she was looking for still there. She pulled the gloves still tucked in her belt out and pulled them on tightly with a tug and flex of her fingers as they walked.
As they did, the boy came back, again she could hear someone in tow. Ora suspected it was the mother, Gail, who had been mentioned.
"Ollie?"
"S'all right Gail. This lady, Ora here just needs a bit of looking after. On her way to the Jinz. Says she fell on some bad luck. Though landing here, with you around, suppose her luck turned."
She heard Gail cluck, but suspected she was really flattered by her husband's high appraisal of her skills.
"Well then, come along, we'll get you fixed right up. Looks like you could use a meal too, skinny thing." When Gail reached out and grabbed her unexpectedly around the shoulders she braced herself, but nothing happened and she supposed if she ever got back to the Capitol, she had a seamstress who deserved an extra bit of payment for the special attention she'd taken in the garments she was wearing. Whatever it was she'd said she'd weaved in the cloth, had kept the touch from sending Ora into a vision of Gail's future.
Gail exchanged a look with her husband at her flinch at the touch. Ora could hear him nod and Gail's tightening of her jaw, her teeth grinding slightly. Ora suspected that they had just silently agreed she was some sort of abused runaway- a wife, a servant, a slave perhaps. If Ora actually let Gail help her dress her wound, she would only be more sure of what they had decided after seeing more of her skin. All the better.
"That would be much appreciated. I don't have much, and I lost some of my things, but I can pay..."
"Nonsense." "'Course not." Gail and Ollie's replies came at once.
Ora felt something wet splash over her leg and her head turned.
"Lawrence!" Ora's mouth turned up slightly on one side, a dimple sinking in at the action.
She heard his cry as his father most likely boxed his ear,
"Apologize now." A twist of said ear.
"OW! I just wanted to know for sure she wasn't a nymph! She's pretty as the river stories say! OW! Beggin your pardon Miss."
"It's alright. I'll dry."
"Get on now!" Ollie growled and the boy ran off.
After that, Gail's guiding hands, still not causing her any problems, led Ora to their simple stone home, several people calling out, stopping their work to find out what was going on. Ollie eventually stopped to talk to a few folks as Gail led her inside a building she could only assume was their home.
After several minutes of heated argument over Ora insisting she could dress her wound herself, and Gail hearing nothing of it, Ora finally said, "Then I'll just be on my way."
Gail held her breath and then sighed and Ora heard her sadness, "You've got some terrible secrets I can tell, but I only want to help."
Ora pursed her lips, how to play this- a little more truth- though not the clarifying kind. "I don't like being touched." She heard Gail's teeth grind again, she knew she'd won, but offered, "You can watch and if, after I am done, you look at my work and aren't satisfied, I'll let you do it again."
"Alright."
Despite being hesitant to let the young girl stitch herself up, it turned out to be only six shallow stitches, which had been executed simply and with skill- she'd obviously stitched herself up before. Though she noted the young woman only rolled her shirt up enough to expose the cut and skin a few inches above her hip. Even that small look was enough to show several other scars from who knew what, and a small glimpse of black tattoo scrawled on her spine and at her waistline.
Gail offered her a clean shirt and then left to give her some of the privacy she sensed Ora was craving while she sought out her husband to confirm to him, and those still around him, that the girl had to be some sort of victim and that she wasn't sure they should let her leave.
Once Ora was certain Gail was gone, she gingerly pulled the bloodied shirt off and the first thing she reached for was the pouch at her neck. Her fingers worked quickly across the leather, finding it whole, but she carefully poured out the contents into a palm and meticulously counted the stones as she returned them back in. Twenty-one, all accounted for. She sighed heavily and picked up the needle and thread again. There was another longer and deeper cut that had crusted over and another smaller gash, but she knew had she exposed it, Gail would have insisted on stitching her up.
The previous night had come back to her as they'd walked to the village. She had hoped the cut had been from carelessness on her part, that she'd cut herself with her sword, and if anyone asked that would be what she said, but it wasn't the truth.
She'd heard the wolves long before they'd come for her half made camp. She had a few twigs burning, figuring the light would keep them at bay. It obviously hadn't, and on the banks of the river, she'd wounded and been wounded in return by a large male wolf.
She knew something was odd about the attack, but when she'd put her hand against the thing to pull her blade out and stumble the last few steps to the boat, she'd felt it, 'seen' it in a sense. The wolf, and many creatures of the woods and land like it, had been spelled.
She winced as the needle slipped with her lack of concentration and plunged deeper in her skin than she'd intended. She forced the knowledge from her mind as she quickly finished up, washed and dressed the wound before putting on the shirt Gail had left. Her leather vest must have ridden up, because upon her touch inspection, there were no gashes in. Or it could have fixed itself, as the leather worker hadn't been completely forthcoming or specific about what spells were worked into the things she'd bought.
She mourned the loss of her coat though, as it not only provided protection, but also made her look more like a boy when she styled the wrap on her head in a different color and fashion. Something else she wouldn't be able to do without buying new wraps since all but one other were lost in her pack where she'd left them at her camp in her haste to get away.
With that thought, her mind went back to the spelled wolf. She concentrated on what she'd felt, and the intent behind it. It wasn't meant to kill her, just hurt her to the point of slowing her down, stopping her. There was a buzzing about its mind that made her certain it was being controlled by one of the devices or power players in the Capitol.
She sat down and took a deep breath, clearing her mind of all but the feel of it. It wouldn't be hard to guess at who possessed the resources and the means, there were a great many number of people invested in finding her again- the Emperor, his enemies, The Visionaries, the Lords and Ladies of the capitol, the public that could afford the Visionaries price to see her. All of them would want her back, but only two had the means or influence to get the spell casters to use the devices, or the gods they served that apparently provided the power involved.
Ora sighed, she couldn't place the caster- most likely someone she hadn't met yet as her short term as Oracle before she fled.
She supposed it didn't really matter though. All that mattered was that they were on to her, so she needed to figure out a way to travel faster, or a way to better cover her tracks.
She ran her hands over her person, making sure every bit of skin she could cover was covered, then pulled on the leather gloves that were tucked in her vest pocket. She didn't suppose she'd get out of town tonight, but an evening of rest and recuperation weren't completely out of order.