-The Mythics RP-

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_-Captain BRM-_ said:
Backstory dropppp.
Rain spat upon the cobbled stone and moonlight glared. She ran, thin soled boots slapping against the stone, and the wind tore at her skirts.

Houses and shops lined the street, each shutter closed, every door locked, and lamps burned ahead, flickering as the rain pounded. Her raw eyes analyzed, scrambling for safety.

She slipped, falling into her left leg. Her ankle grew hot and fizzed.

Rain saturated her vision, and slopped gnarled hair down her forehead. Ahead a single lamp burned, and it drew her eyes in, coaxing her onward, a comfort in the cold. She tripped and veered, disturbing great pools of water, which filled the fabric of her skirts and exploited her balance. She turned toward a blurred storefront, stealing into a shallow, roofed space between buildings, and waited.

The woman shook, listening to hooves echo and cut into the main road. She hunched down, clutching the neck of her blouse, and held her breath. The talisman in her white hand burned, but she could not relax the muscles, and the paper inside her shirt had warped and pasted to her ribs. The ink would have run like blood by now, staining her pale skin, and proving the document useless.

Proving this job wasteful, and her maddening discretion faulty.

Earth rumbled and the horse tore past, diving ahead into darkness, and she slumped against the wet wall, breathing rain.

She had made a condemning mistake. This job was a hideous miscalculation.

She took a breath and her body spasmed. Spitting again, the woman pushed pasty hair off her forehead and eyes, then stood and rocked on trembling muscles.

The rain grew dense, and shouted off the cobblestone. She lifted her head, listening.

Hooves.

Slower than previous.

Crisp and wet and approaching.

She tripped back on battered feet and fell and scrambled up again, avoiding debris, skirts heavy and wet.

Everything sacred, she cursed and cursed. Breath hiccupped in her chest and stuck in her throat. The shadows gripped her frame, and with wild, prey-like eyes she watched the horse come into view. Its coat shone with lantern light, and sweat and water splattered off its flank. The shadowed rider maintained a tense reign, and the horse bounced its head, rolling and chewing the bit. Foam flopped from its mouth and slapped the ground.

She hunched low, backing into the alley, and her foot caught a glass bottle. It broke against the wall.

The rider turned and she felt heat thrill her spine, and again she was spitting things up and rushing backwards, no longer acute to the noise she was making, deafened by fear.

A miscalculation to the finest extent. She had ruined herself.

The back of the alley greeted her with a cold, solid grip, and she flattened herself against it, pushing. The wall gave, and hinges screamed. She fell back. Wafting dust lathered in her throat, and she coughed and breathed musty air as her eyes searched the dank shed. The talisman bit into her palm. She crawled backwards, reaching her bloody hand to clutch the neck of her blouse.

The handle of a shovel ran itself hard into the place between her shoulder blade and back, and she flinched forward, then ducked beneath, and pushed herself to the cluttered corner. Everything was black and unknown, and it all danced in her red eyes as she thrust her hand out, brushing callused fingers over her surroundings. She hit glass and the jar fell, spitting yellow across her chest. The woman jerked away, biting her teeth.

Hooves popped through the air, and she forced herself deeper and found a set of shelving lined with heavy preservatives. She stumbled on and ran her numb hand along a warped shelf, blinking hair from her eyes. The document had grown warm, a film staining her ribcage, and she lifted her free white fist to her mouth and worked open the cold, rigid fingers. The blood was wet and bitter. Her stained teeth found the talisman, and she tensed and leaned on the shelves, then used her tongue to pry it from the ravaged skin, flicking blood with trembling hands.

Heavy boots and spurs clicked, and she ducked low, breathing. She spat the talisman into her free hand, and slowly placed the object behind a set of jars, holding her breath to ease the shaking.

Heat ailed her skin.

She shifted away from the shelf, moving deeper into the cellar. Straw lay thick on the ground, breaking beneath her shoes, shuffling tiny sounds. She reached for the document in her blouse and sucked the skin tight to her ribs. The paper broke upon retrieval, and she scraped it up, moving hurriedly as things fell and jars smashed in the dark behind her. She twisted her fingers into the soft paper, tearing and destroying. The shelving creaked and leaned. Jars cascaded off the side opposite to her, and she hunched down, shoving the paper into her mouth. Preservatives sprayed up the left side of her body and face. A foreign hand caught the back of her blouse and slammed her chin into the ground.

A dreadful mistake. Her heart faltered. He would kill her.

His hands trapped her arms and pulled her from the ground with a bruising grip. The floor lay thick with canned-slosh, and his boots tossed it around as he started toward the door, kicking glass. He covered her mouth with a thick hand and dragged her forward. She tripped ahead of him, half carried, and remained quite agreeable until they had exited the warming cellar, stumbling over her cold feet.

The document waited, compressed to the back of her tongue.

The man shuffled between tools, grunting and crushing her skin, and as he pulled her close to traverse a particularly difficult passage, she flung her head back into his nose.

His grip did not lessen.

She twisted, and kicked into his knees. He repositioned his hold and jerked her away by the hair, and her forehead hit the door frame as they stumbled out into the street.

The stone was wet and he propped her on his knees, and she lay there, dazed, watching mud drip down the horse’s dark forelegs as he searched her clothing.

Her mouth was warm, and the paper bobbed, half-swallowed in her throat.

Rain tore through her eyes.

He breathed heavy sounds along with his horse.

She made an attempt to swallow as the man’s hand slipped to her neck, and she lifted her hands to grip his wrists. Saliva bubbled in her throat, and she coughed. Then coughed again.

He ran his hand along her neck, and she arched her back, twisting away, but he fit her head between the bones of his knees and worked his rough fingers between her teeth, using his free hand to rub the skin of her throat and coax up the document as she gagged and heaved.

She could feel it on the back of her tongue now, and she winced, clenching her jaw over thick, leather gloved hands. He hit her, and she faltered, coughing raw sounds and squirming. He hit her again, and her head sprang against his knee, and her ears roared.

The horse shifted weight, glistening.

Water streaked her eyes.

The back of his hand cracked over her forehead, and her body tottered, temple throbbing. The paper fell loose from her mouth, and her eyes rolled.



|



The horse beat across the cobblestone, shattering rock. Her head swayed in a dark, woven fabric. The animal below lunged long, digging strides, her legs bounced against its muscular shoulders. Hands tied and gripping coarse mane, she felt a forearm locked tight round her waist, and she drove her elbows back. His grip tightened and she braced herself for an impact of some kind, but none came. Rain increased in volume, and hail stung. She could see nothing through the bag, and kept her head down.

The horse turned, sudden and sharp, and its hooves gave and slipped on the slick road. Her heart caught as the creature steadied itself and sprung another wild turn, it's panic evident and contagious. She felt his hand leave her waist, and she leaned into him, reaching her bound hands to his wet trousers, then up to his shirt, pushing into him as the animal reared. He leaned forward, countering his steed, and the animal pitched left, then slipped again, shaking on worn muscles as it sprang into another wild turn. The man grunted suddenly, the noise loud and pained, and she felt him tense and keel into her back.

The horse pitched, and the man began to fall.

She released his shirt, gripping the saddle as he slipped away, then ducked low, sliding her head beside the horse's neck.

An explosion fired, somewhere nearby, and the horse rounded and ran. She could feel the creature leaning right, feel the saddle slipping, and hear his body drag across the stone. She clutched the horse’s wet skin, breathing hard through the bag as the saddle began slipping and the creature's pace grew faster, and her body scrambled.

There was another explosion.

She could see it through the bag, through her shut eyes, and she could feel it throw her through the air. The heat, and that terrible moment of processing.

Her empty stomach flitted.

And then she hit the cobblestone
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This compels me to write a gruesom backstory scene for Ember of the moment Heron dies
 
Isabella6Storm4 said:
I'm just gonna say,
I love you guys so much😭
Revisiting this RP as been the only good thing in the most rotten day I've had in years
I'm just making salmon and walking back and forth in the kitchen and reading stuff and its the one thing getting me through today without going clinically insane😭🫂
Click to expand...
My goodness, Isa... I'm not sure how to respond to this...

I'm really glad that it helps you. Writing with you, joking with you- I really enjoy our interactions. Everyone's interactions. It helps drive me out of the suffocating stagnancy in the wintertime.

I hope you're day improves, and forward from it, the rest of your week as well. Just keep your head up girl, we've got you
 
-Shade- said:
"Noted."
She flitted through the parchment of the logbook skillfully, landing on the page with the freshest writing.
"The bulkheads are assembled and the crew is just working to tighten their fastenings. Most of the supplies are secured- there are a few barrels of gunpowder that still need to be settled but that is all. 187 crewmates total, not counting you, myself, the first mate, and the medic and his new apprentice. Total persons aboard number 192. All of the sails and fastenings have been checked and are ready to set sail at first light. Canons are undergoing maintenance as we speak."
She clapped the book shut, suppressing an impatient sigh.
"Should I arrange the housings for the private chambers?
Click to expand...
Vhanya nodded, satisfied with the report, “yes, yes you should.” She turned her head, watching another group of crewmates descend, “Jintao and Bailey can share a cabin, as well as you and Lyra. Understood?”
Her tail flicked, she glanced side-long at Ember, “I’d reckon you were excited, save for that expression on your face.”
 
Isabella6Storm4 said:
I'm just gonna say,
I love you guys so much😭
Revisiting this RP as been the only good thing in the most rotten day I've had in years
I'm just making salmon and walking back and forth in the kitchen and reading stuff and its the one thing getting me through today without going clinically insane😭🫂
Click to expand...
Aw, Isa 🫂💛
Shade said it best, writing with our group has been an amazing experience and I couldn’t wish for better friends, I’m glad it’s mutual
Praying for your day
 
Isabella6Storm4 said:
I'm just gonna say,
I love you guys so much😭
Revisiting this RP as been the only good thing in the most rotten day I've had in years
I'm just making salmon and walking back and forth in the kitchen and reading stuff and its the one thing getting me through today without going clinically insane😭🫂
Click to expand...
I'm so sorry about this. I've been having a bit of a rough couple of days myself, so I understand. I hope your day improves and improves quickly. :hugs:hugs:hugs
 

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