The Masks We Wear - Zoe Little

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BeepBeepSaysTheJeep
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The Masks We Wear - Zoe Little

Unread post by BeepBeepSaysTheJeep » Sat Mar 02, 2019 6:28 pm

The blue tiefling sat at the desk in a small room above the Elfsong Tavern. The candle flickered, throwing dim light upon the parchment before her, still untouched. She reached for her wineglass, which contained an inky black liquor: Utterdark, a curious, potent spirit popular in Cormyr. Blood red eyelashes fluttered as she savored the burn down her throat, and then she set the wineglass down with nary a sound. A trembling blue hand reached for the quill and dipped the tip into the open inkwell.

Tarot,

An elaborate ploy to get me out of your way, but you always had a flair for the dramatic. By the time news reaches you that I and the intended target still breathe, I'll be long gone.

Signed,
The Magician

P.S. We're over.

P.P.S. I mean it this time.


She rose to her feet, pushing her chair beck, and let the ink dry as she packed away what few belongings she had strewn about the room--a scalloped comb, a plumed mask, a few articles of clothing. The parchment was the last thing she took with her before blowing the candle out, and she tri-folded it, tucking it away in one of the pockets on her person. The half-empty glass of Utterdark was left behind as she quietly departed the room, leather trenchers silent upon the wooden floor.

Credits music:
Zoe Little: The Masks We Wear
Available for "by request" alts to help your character's story!
Discord: BeepBeepSaysTheJeep#3218

User avatar
BeepBeepSaysTheJeep
Posts: 18
Joined: Wed Jan 04, 2017 7:52 pm

Re: The Masks We Wear - Zoe Little

Unread post by BeepBeepSaysTheJeep » Sun Mar 03, 2019 5:21 pm

CW: Blood.

A year and some change ago...

The first thing that hit Zoe was the odor--a heavy stench that weighed upon the motionless, humid summer air, not a breeze reaching the garbage-strewn alleyway on this night. Rotting food, bodily fluids in the form of medical waste, and... is that feces? Whatever she was laying on was pretty comfortable, in any case. That's when the burning hit her, a pain dull and sharp at once, spreading from her abdomen and reaching her toes, her fingertips. The sensation was what she imagined vivisection would feel like--a disemboweling, being drawn and quartered. She tried to groan against the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. It bubbled at the corners of her lips. It took a monumental effort just to lift her shirt past to her sternum and tilt her head to see. A sheen of blackish blood coated her belly, three deep stab wounds spewing life out of her with every breath she took.

Her head slumped back against the pile of trash and she whimpered, lacking the energy to wipe the tears that formed at the outer corners of her eyes and trickled past her temples. A few wimpish sobs escaped her, and sanguine lashes fluttered closed once more. Maybe it was a few minutes, or a few hours before she came to again. The heavens were still obsidian-black; the night wasn't over.

With a grunt and more blood forced through gritted teeth, she rolled unceremoniously off the garbage heap. Fingers scrabbled for purchase against the cobblestones. She crawled on hands and knees towards the light, a dimly illuminated streetlamp in the distance. With every inch she slithered, salvation seemed to get further away, the distance between herself and the well-lit thoroughfare grew the further she lurched along.

"I should have known you'd land on your feet, kitten. You have nine lives, after all. Well, five now. Or was it six?" The familiar drawl made her skin crawl. Deep, smooth, a confident air of disdain followed by a rueful basso chuckle. "Who can keep track anymore?"

The cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows--neither tall nor short at 5"10, wide shoulders and broad chest tapering to a narrow waist. The hilt of an ornate dagger sheathed along his thigh glinted briefly in the moonlight when the clouds parted, allowing Selune to irradiate his handiwork. Silent steps carried him forth without flourish or flair, so that Zoe was one her hands and knees at his feet. With a sudden of surge of strength, she reached for the ankle of his black leather boot. The viper's strike played out more successfully in her mind than in practice. Whatever words she tried to form--and she wouldn't remember them the next day--came out as a sad gurgle.

He leaned down, gloved fingers tangling through and grabbing a fistful of her dark red mane to yank her head up. She let go of his ankle as he pulled her up to her knees. She looked at him hatefully, yellow eyes narrowed into slits.

"But you still disappointed me, my kitten, and more importantly, The Lord of Three Thunders," he said as the bottom of his boot made contact with the center of her chest, knocking her back, knees still bent and lower legs folded beneath her like a twisted ragdoll when she slumped to the ground again. That was all it took to make her lose consciousness again.

Credits music:
Zoe Little: The Masks We Wear
Available for "by request" alts to help your character's story!
Discord: BeepBeepSaysTheJeep#3218

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