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Fennec
Who are you when no one is watching?
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
Unclean...
She has tainted the children.
Heretic...heathen...
Murderer...lamia...
A curse has been brought upon us….we must pay penitence and cleanse this place.
Be rid of her and her kin...
The mob came in the middle of the night, hate on their lips and a glint in their eyes. They needed someone to blame for this inadequacy, someone to sate their miserable hunger. The sound of splintering wood and shattered glass broke the calm silence in their small cottage as jostling bodies fought their way inside in an attempt to cast the first stone. Corinth was on his feet in an instant.
“Take Quillian and run.” Maeve nodded, her jaw locked as she picked up their crying two year old son and made her way towards the back of the house. The night air was damp with decay and tension. Autumn arrived long ago and she was grateful for the rain that muted her steps.The two lovers expected this, but they thought that’d have more time, thought they could convince everyone. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Why?
“Admit your wrongs and the gods may forgive your soul.” Maeve stared forward into the crowd with her one hazel eye, the other making her nearly unrecognizable as it was swollen shut from making contact with someone’s boot. There was no wrong to admit, no gods ask forgiveness. What gods would allow them to destroy life so easily? What gods would allow Lillian to suffer so much pain, alone and scared. She took a shuddering breath from around the metal choker as her ribs clicked. It hadn’t taken them long to catch up to her in the forest that night.
“My soul is of no concern…” Her words were strained but steady in their conviction as they spilled from her lips. “It is you and those that stand before me who should ask for forgiveness.”
They grew closer with each step and that meant Corinth was gone. A scream of desperation ripped from Maeve’s throat as she tried to run faster, the wind loud in her ears and cold against her shaved scalp. Quillian was tight on her chest and her lean arms burned from the constant weight. Each breath forcefully pushed itself out of her constricted lungs. They needed to make it to the river, needed to get to the boat where they’d be safe, and it was close. The sound of running water was up ahead in the distance and even in the dark she knew where to go. The forest was her second home.
A small seed of hope blossomed in her stomach as her eyes caught sight of the water just before she felt fingers clasping her hair and yanking. Maeve’s feet slipped from underneath her as she held her child closer. The impact on the forest floor rattled her lungs as they struggled and failed to get air. Lights darted before her eyes as she attempted to sit up only for a boot to sink into the side of her stomach while someone ripped Quillian from her arms.
“NO! QUILLIAN, NO! PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!” Whoever had a hold of her raven hair dragged her through the muddy forest and as she started to grip their wrists to stop the shooting pain on her head another pair of hands came to restrict her.
“You take our children and we take yours.” Meave’s blood ran cold. She dug her heels in the ground, ignoring the way the branches and rocks sliced into her skin. She could hear her boy crying out to her.
“STOP! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME! DON’T HURT HIM! PLEASE DON’T HURT-” Her pleas were cut short as a blow hit her cheek. A pop reverberated through her ears and she felt the way her cheekbone cracked. She couldn’t think in that moment, a sudden haze filling her brain as it tried to center itself. By the time her awareness started to return they were at the river bank. Rough hands sat her up and held her face in place.
Immediately, her eye bloodshot eyes focused on the scene in front of her and she lost all sense of self as she fought against the hands. They were taking him! They were bringing him to the river. No, no, no, no, no...It wasn’t until her mouth was covered that she realized she was screaming the word over and over. Her singleminded focus on saving her son allowed one of her arms to escape and she elbowed a man next to her before a blow to the nape of her neck had her seeing nothing but darkness. She was strong but there was little she could do on her own, yet sadly, she was still considered witch.
“May all of your wicked souls rot in hell. Your children are gone because you did not deserve them. The innocent have indeed shined a light on this village and revealed only death in this place and death upon you.” Her words struck a chord in the crowd who settled for but a moment, pondering on the consequences of their actions before determining their self-righteousness would keep them safe. However, Maeve words were honest. A predator was still in this town, likely in the crowd delighting in her judgement.
“Let it be known, on this 17th day in the year of our lord 4035 that Maeve Bodrack has been sentenced to death by garrote.” The crowd cheered, believing that their lives would return to normal with her death.
Maeve’s breath hitched as she heard the turnstyle rotate. She had nothing left in this world to keep her here, but she didn’t want it to end like this, didn’t want this suffering. The spinning metal creaked with each twist, bringing the screw closer to her neck. She felt the unfamiliar pressure when it touched her back of her neck and pushed forward. Her body tried to do the same on its own accord, jerking as for forward as she could to avoid the sensation.
Hot tears fell from her eyes when her skin broke and she bit her tongue in an effort to lessen the former pain. The more she struggled, the louder the cheers became. The further into her neck it moved, the more she lost control of her body as a gurgled moan ripped from her bloody throat and her eyes rolled to the back her head. Her back arched while arms tried to break through the binds holding her in place. Even her legs rose on their own accord, toes curled just as her fingers were,trying to clasp on to life. It wasn’t long before cheers slipped away for all she could see was darkness and all she could hear was the sickening crunch of muscle and bone while her body convulsed towards death.
Oopsies! Moved to PMs.
She has tainted the children.
Heretic...heathen...
Murderer...lamia...
A curse has been brought upon us….we must pay penitence and cleanse this place.
Be rid of her and her kin...
The mob came in the middle of the night, hate on their lips and a glint in their eyes. They needed someone to blame for this inadequacy, someone to sate their miserable hunger. The sound of splintering wood and shattered glass broke the calm silence in their small cottage as jostling bodies fought their way inside in an attempt to cast the first stone. Corinth was on his feet in an instant.
“Take Quillian and run.” Maeve nodded, her jaw locked as she picked up their crying two year old son and made her way towards the back of the house. The night air was damp with decay and tension. Autumn arrived long ago and she was grateful for the rain that muted her steps.The two lovers expected this, but they thought that’d have more time, thought they could convince everyone. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Why?
“Admit your wrongs and the gods may forgive your soul.” Maeve stared forward into the crowd with her one hazel eye, the other making her nearly unrecognizable as it was swollen shut from making contact with someone’s boot. There was no wrong to admit, no gods ask forgiveness. What gods would allow them to destroy life so easily? What gods would allow Lillian to suffer so much pain, alone and scared. She took a shuddering breath from around the metal choker as her ribs clicked. It hadn’t taken them long to catch up to her in the forest that night.
“My soul is of no concern…” Her words were strained but steady in their conviction as they spilled from her lips. “It is you and those that stand before me who should ask for forgiveness.”
They grew closer with each step and that meant Corinth was gone. A scream of desperation ripped from Maeve’s throat as she tried to run faster, the wind loud in her ears and cold against her shaved scalp. Quillian was tight on her chest and her lean arms burned from the constant weight. Each breath forcefully pushed itself out of her constricted lungs. They needed to make it to the river, needed to get to the boat where they’d be safe, and it was close. The sound of running water was up ahead in the distance and even in the dark she knew where to go. The forest was her second home.
A small seed of hope blossomed in her stomach as her eyes caught sight of the water just before she felt fingers clasping her hair and yanking. Maeve’s feet slipped from underneath her as she held her child closer. The impact on the forest floor rattled her lungs as they struggled and failed to get air. Lights darted before her eyes as she attempted to sit up only for a boot to sink into the side of her stomach while someone ripped Quillian from her arms.
“NO! QUILLIAN, NO! PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!” Whoever had a hold of her raven hair dragged her through the muddy forest and as she started to grip their wrists to stop the shooting pain on her head another pair of hands came to restrict her.
“You take our children and we take yours.” Meave’s blood ran cold. She dug her heels in the ground, ignoring the way the branches and rocks sliced into her skin. She could hear her boy crying out to her.
“STOP! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME! DON’T HURT HIM! PLEASE DON’T HURT-” Her pleas were cut short as a blow hit her cheek. A pop reverberated through her ears and she felt the way her cheekbone cracked. She couldn’t think in that moment, a sudden haze filling her brain as it tried to center itself. By the time her awareness started to return they were at the river bank. Rough hands sat her up and held her face in place.
Immediately, her eye bloodshot eyes focused on the scene in front of her and she lost all sense of self as she fought against the hands. They were taking him! They were bringing him to the river. No, no, no, no, no...It wasn’t until her mouth was covered that she realized she was screaming the word over and over. Her singleminded focus on saving her son allowed one of her arms to escape and she elbowed a man next to her before a blow to the nape of her neck had her seeing nothing but darkness. She was strong but there was little she could do on her own, yet sadly, she was still considered witch.
“May all of your wicked souls rot in hell. Your children are gone because you did not deserve them. The innocent have indeed shined a light on this village and revealed only death in this place and death upon you.” Her words struck a chord in the crowd who settled for but a moment, pondering on the consequences of their actions before determining their self-righteousness would keep them safe. However, Maeve words were honest. A predator was still in this town, likely in the crowd delighting in her judgement.
“Let it be known, on this 17th day in the year of our lord 4035 that Maeve Bodrack has been sentenced to death by garrote.” The crowd cheered, believing that their lives would return to normal with her death.
Maeve’s breath hitched as she heard the turnstyle rotate. She had nothing left in this world to keep her here, but she didn’t want it to end like this, didn’t want this suffering. The spinning metal creaked with each twist, bringing the screw closer to her neck. She felt the unfamiliar pressure when it touched her back of her neck and pushed forward. Her body tried to do the same on its own accord, jerking as for forward as she could to avoid the sensation.
Hot tears fell from her eyes when her skin broke and she bit her tongue in an effort to lessen the former pain. The more she struggled, the louder the cheers became. The further into her neck it moved, the more she lost control of her body as a gurgled moan ripped from her bloody throat and her eyes rolled to the back her head. Her back arched while arms tried to break through the binds holding her in place. Even her legs rose on their own accord, toes curled just as her fingers were,trying to clasp on to life. It wasn’t long before cheers slipped away for all she could see was darkness and all she could hear was the sickening crunch of muscle and bone while her body convulsed towards death.
Oopsies! Moved to PMs.
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