Rhyse Falmarin

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About Rhyse Falmarin

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    Fresh Faced


    Antonina Bragina
  • RACE
    Veil Crosser - Oceanid
  • JOB
    Previously a baker/currently on the run
    Rhyse (Reese) Falmarin - Red Sea Spirit
    At a petite 5' with a shy tendency to cover up and fold her hands into her pockets, Rhyse could easily be overlooked if not for two very distinguishing characteristics; her cascades of strawberry red hair and the crimson stain to her irises. She has been fortunate thus far that most mistook her for a native Irish girl with her flaming hair and pale complexion.

    Doused in the salty waters of the ocean, she is a different creature all together. The metamorphosis is not something she can stop, reminiscent of the earthen fairy tales of mermaids. But that is where the comparison stops. Hair strands fuse as legs peel apart into tendrils longer than she is tall, resembling that of the earthen squid, skin thickening like that of a porpoise and staining crimson. Tendrils are pure muscle, dangerous weapons by themselves as they end in points that hold small barbs down the inner ridge. (See About Me tab)
    Almost painfully shy, Rhyse has managed to stay "under the radar" by not drawing attention to herself. When she is relaxed she has a lyrical laughter that can infect those around her. In the kitchen is where her confidence shines, able to forget the world and take charge of those around her.

    In the water, the warrior in her can come out. Protective of those she cares about the warrior has only been present once since she was sucked through a maelstrom to this foreign world. This led to a devastating encounter where she learned she was a "demon".... "evil".... "disgusting". This perception has stayed with her, ashamed of her alter ego, fearful that revealing it will lead to instant death. This has led to a fear of the ocean, even the thought of being on a boat sends her skittering away as her transformation is triggered when doused in as little as a gallon of ocean waters.
    Rhyse came to the world with nothing but a very simple ring. The twisted silver cradles a small sphere that holds the only remnant from her lost world, water from its oceans.

    She had built herself a small life in Ireland where she owned a café, but that was lost to her in the recent tumult over registration when it was discovered that she was indeed an Outworlder. In the violence her café was burned to the ground and she herself has been on the run ever since.


    Water dance: (can be done in Human and Serpent form)
    More parlor trick than power, Rhyse can make small pools of water dance. Droplets bounce on the surface of water in a glass, puddles can throw small spouts in the air, tendrils of water up to a foot tall can pull up from a pond and intertwine in beautiful forms. When done in Serpent form, the size and impressive nature of this trick is tripled. Rhyse can do this with both salted and unsalted water.

    Water whip: (can be done in Human and Serpent form)
    The water whip is one of her most commonly used moves that involves creating a lashing tendril of water to swipe at an opponent. The water is compressed into nearly a solid form, its strike equivalent to that of a bullwhip. This is done from an existing water source such as a pitcher of water, a pond, the ocean. In human form these are searing straps that can be as long as eight feet and nearly four inches in diameter. In Serpent form these can be nearly thirty feet long and over a foot and a half in diameter. Rhyse can do this with both salted and unsalted water. (size restricted by the volume of water she has access to)

    Water wall/water shield: (can be done in Human and Serpent form)
    Water can be molded into a variety of viscous shapes and can be used to deflect/slow an attack. This wall/shield can also be shoved outward, propelled at attackers. In human form she can make a wall ten feet wide and high and nearly two feet thick but in serpent form she can dredge up one over seventy feet wide and high and ten feet thick. (size restricted by the volume of water she has access to)

    Water spout or "water vortex": (can be done in Human and Serpent form)
    Rhyse can control a whirlpool-like pillar of water, rotating it and directing its movements at the same time. In human form this can be a scary 20 foot tall tornado of water that is as much as seven feet across its vortex. In serpent form this can be a terrifying 100 foot tall cyclone that is as much as thirty feet across. (size restricted by the volume of water she has access to)

    She has not performed any of the following yet on earth so perfection will only come with use.

    Maelstrom: (can only be done in Serpent form)
    In a large body of water, she can create a gigantic whirlpool capable of pulling ships down into the murky abyss. The typical manifestation she will create has currents as swift as 10mph and as large as 250 ft across. However, she can create the very channel to Davy Jones locker with currents that surge as fast as 30mph and a vortex north of 600 feet across. This size will render her unconscious for days. She can create a maelstrom in semi-fresh water but it needs to hold at least a 1.5% salt weight (a little less than half the 3.5% of ocean waters) In these diluted waters however she cannot make anything much larger than 50 ft across.

    Pull the tides: (can only be done in Serpent form)
    Rhyse can push and pull the tides outside of their natural gravitational pull, lifting waters along a coast as much as four feet or pushing them out to dry bed the beaches. This ability can be very dangerous if she chooses to pull the tides against the ocean currents, altering the natural flow of the warm and cold streams, upsetting the very climate balance. Can only be done in salt water.

    Tsunami: (can only be done in Serpent form)
    With the violent ripping of the tides, displacing large volumes of the water, she can stir great bodies of ocean into a frenzy that can launch seismic sea waves or tsunamis outward from her location. In its largest state, she can create devastating tsunamis, walls of water over 90 feet tall that can obliterate a coastline, however anything of this size or more than 3 rippling outward from her position of 20-30 ft tall will cause her to lose consciousness. Can only be done in salt water.

    All abilities that manipulate water are restricted by having access to water. She cannot create it from thin air unless it is actually raining (no matter how high the humidity).
    All abilities beyond Water Dance and Water Whip are draining on her energy. Maelstrom, Tsunami and Pulling of the Tides can actually leave her unconscious if taken to their largest incarnation.
    She has no tolerance for alcohol as it dehydrates and she is susceptible to dehydration. A glass of wine has her well beyond tipsy.
    She tends to consume large quantities of water because she dehydrates easily. If she has no access to water she will begin to weaken within 24 hrs. Her thoughts grow scattered and she has difficulty with balance.
    Great chef but an amazing baker. Her sweets have been seen as works of art.

    She has a soft and delicate siren's voice when she sings.

    A child of the ocean she understands the push and pull of the tides, the habits of the creatures within the waters and how currents work better than most any. However she knows them for her own oceans, she has avoided these foreign waters and would need to spend some time in them to fully apply this understanding.
    Born to a warrior race of the tumultuous Acarian lavender oceans, Rhyse was always a bit lacking in the cold hearted nature expected of her people. And yet she had abilities and skills for fighting that her brethren lacked. While comrades could perform parlor tricks in the water, Rhyse was able to destroy armies with her ability to manipulate the waters around her, transforming waves into spears that could render through flesh without mercy.

    Commanded often to bring her abilities to bear, she lived with the self loathing afterwards far too often. It was during such a calling for her powers that the world turned inside out. A maelstrom of her own making was about to win the battle for her people when it turned itself inside out and took her with it. What followed is a blur for her, a gap in her memory that only picks up when she was found on the rocky shores of Ceide Fields, Ireland by an old fisherman, naked and in a form she had never before taken.

    Fergus had been his name. With kind eyes and rough hands he had taken her in, mistaking her for a child of the Island that had been swept away in the tumult of the first event. It was Fergus that had named her Rhyse Falmarin - Red Sea Spirit - when it became clear she lacked memories of who she was. It was living in his home that she learned to bake and cook and found a peace her life before had never offered her. But the idyllic life was only to be hers for a year.

    The dragon wars spilled into Ireland and when the small town she lived in suffered from the overflow of the battle, her attempt to save those that had fallen from rocky cliffsides awoke her memory and who she really was. Her form was met with disgust by those that had once called her friend and with Fergus dying in the aftermath she had no home there anymore.

    Rhyse moved south and inland to Drumalaheen, swearing to never again take her ocean form. In time she opened a small café and bakery and made a good life for herself there.

    Her abilities have diminished to little more than parlor tricks now that she has been nearly 9 years out of the ocean. Minor skills that had those in the town believing she was just another altered human. This changed recently. The Outworlder Registration came knocking in Drumalaheen. Rhyse didn’t really understand the fingerprinting process or the reason they pricked everyone's finger in town. She went along with it all.

    Then her world crumbled around her. Marked an Outworlder she has been hunted for the last 3 months in Ireland. Forced to keep to the rocky coasts that are less inhabited, far too close to the waters she has sworn off.

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  1. The Great Ocean Escape

    "I was referring to you. I know your friend found the rooms, he snores." His return nearly had her jumping out of her very skin. Pallor drained to nearly translucent, blue hued veins playing peek-a-boo on her cheeks as crimson blinked at him… lips murmuring nearly inaudibly… Not really….a friend… Lips pulled through her teeth as she shimmied to the wall on bare tiptoes to be out of his way. She had only met Will the same day she had met this stranger, didn’t really make them friends. Though even drunk he had tried to help her, so not enemies at least either. Eyes caught the "ink" again. It had a light of its own which wasn’t something she had seen on this world, at least not in Ireland. Toes slid along the wall as she crept off to the room… a quiet "sorry" repeated before slipping in to seek something more to wear. Slender fingers fiddled along the sides of the coat, seeking pockets that were a hanging a bit too low on her form as she finally peeked into the mess hall. "I'm Calder." She nearly popped out of her skin again. Damn she needed to settle down! Waves bobbed as she nodded faintly at him, nostrils filling with whatever he was stirring in the bowl. Now closer it was becoming apparent it was chili. Rhyse…. Response was soft as the eyes lost interest in him, focusing down instead on his bowl. It smelled like a pretty good chili actually. Definitely more the traditional end of chili which she appreciated. Hers was chocked full of pumpkin which seemed more popular in Ireland. "Best chili anywhere." Brow lifted a bit over the crimson orbs as she slid her lower lips through upper teeth, lowering into the seat and plucking the spoon up to swirl in the bowl. "I picked this up from a trading post in the gulf. It's a cinnamon hot chocolate." Nostrils flared at the mug, thick lashes half closing as for the first time the lips turned ever so slightly upward enjoying the scent. Murmured words were not really meant for him. …be even better if added some allspice and sweet ancho peppers…… The lashes lifted and saw him, almost startled he was there as the tone turned to something almost apologetic, as if she could be mistaken as complaining. … cinnamon is very good too. As if to shut herself up she pushed a large spoonful of chili between her lips and lowered her gaze back to the bowl. "New York isn't Ireland. You hide, people will think you have something TO hide. Huge magus presence there. Respected, in positions of power. You can pass, but not if you hide." Lashes lifted to him, his words pondered a moment as lips were licked over. Didn’t used to be hiding…. Her English had been learned in the welsh continent…. the lilt of Irish tingeing her accent. I um….. wore contacts…. lost those….. but that was it….. I mean…. I had my own shop and people didn’t seem to….…. Voice trailed off. It was more than she had spoken in a while and she was suddenly acutely aware of it, lips clamping shut as she realized he had not really intended to engage in conversation, already turning to leave. To cover up the awkward moment she quickly took another scoop of the chili. It had been a long time since she had been without those damn contacts. The eyes that were so mundanely average on her world, were unheard of and demonic on this one. Truth was it was the first time in ages her eyes didn’t ache and water.
  2. The Great Ocean Escape

    Swirl was becoming violent. First clockwise…then counter, water sloshing faintly over the side despite the fact that crimson orbs had departed from the glass of water. The push against liquid was innate, despite having spent several years avoiding it. Lashes flicked upward as the ship shifted course and the slap of water against the hull elicited a flinch through her spine. Arms tightened their grip around her knees, more for comfort than any protection against the cold. This was a mistake….so was staying in Ireland….what alternative did that leave? "Rise and shine…" She nearly jumped out of her skin having missed him coming down the stairs over her head. Glass upturned, water flooding outward into the walkway. Sorry…. Apology was incredibly timid, barely audible over her breath. "It’s going to keep getting colder for another day or so, there are warmer clothes in the two rooms aft. Sweaters, coats, scarves, hats… whatever you need. Food’ll be ready soon in the galley." She had half tripped face first to the floor untangling herself from the shirt she had pulled over her knees. He's sleeping in one of…… He was already gone. ….them. Quiet word sighed from her lips. She had found one of the rooms and half drug Will into it to sleep off his liquor and then just…. sleep…it seemed. She had checked on him twice to make sure he hadn't died… he hadnt. Sleep seemed to be deep for the man as he cuddled into the small bed. She had not wanted to be presumptuous and take the other room. There were others on the ship and frankly…. sleep was elusive ever since she had been on the run. She couldn’t recall the last time she had slept. A jacket wouldn’t hurt…… Lip was chewed as she peeked into the second room, the tight quarters were not so tight for the small frame as she hesitated opening the closet. There was an array of clothing haphazardly hanging in the gap. She wasn’t really cold natured but she was barely dressed in the oversized garments so the navy wool jacket caught her attention. The arms were slid over pale skin only to hang four inches beyond her fingertips. Grumbling under her breath she rolled them up as she stepped back into the hall, the hem nearly brushing the ground. She wasn’t THAT small…. was she? Buttoning the middle button she decided the coat actually belonged to someone extra tall because she was NOT that small. Closing the door quietly again she padded bare feet towards the galley. There had been no talk of payment, at least not yet. Problem was she had nothing to give. She could cook…. that was about all she could offer. Peach and amber waves peeked around the corner into the galley as a faint waft came of something warm. Crimson tried to avoid contact with anything… or rather…. anyone as she sought the source of the scent. Sleep eluded her… but not hunger as the stomach rumbled beneath the oversized navy wool.
  3. The Great Ocean Escape

    @Calder Muireadach, @Will Tennesen After the escape from Ireland.....HERE She had managed to keep up with the stranger. Making his ship before too many stirred in the town center. By some miracle the drunk Will managed to follow them as well. And thus she found herself at sea. They were three days out now. Three terrifying days. Will had been her excuse to stay hidden below deck, the man had been sick at first. But truth was Will was sleeping most of the time now so she spent the time curled in a dark corner instead, careful that no one could find her on accident, hiding out and barely having eaten. She didn’t dare go on deck. The simple sway of the ship on rough waters was enough to draw out absolute terror. This much movement meant that the spray up on deck would be enough to lure her demonic nature out. They would kill her, toss her overboard, lock her up to be tortured later….. the imagination ran rampant, fueled by the horrors she had been subjected to in Ireland. No matter what Will thought, she didn’t believe the ship was "safe" for her kind despite the fact that several on board seemed to be clearly outworlders. She sat under the metal stairs, arms wrapped over the bare legs, the shorts she had stolen off a clothes line in Ireland tugged down to her knees to keep warm. The oversized shirt was pulled over the same knees to try and cover the shins, hem of the neck gaping dangerously wide as she rested her forehead on the drawn up limbs, strawberry and peach waves covering her shoulders and sides like a blanket. Contacts had been lost in all the commotion leaving crimson orbs staring in the dark at the glass of water sitting beside her. For all the terror the undulations of the foreign ocean waters instilled, they also beckoned at her, taunting her psyche. The water churned in the glass sitting on the floor, spinning first to the left before slowing and then spinning to the right. The simple push against the liquid done without thought as she huddled beneath the stairs waiting for the end of this horrible journey.
  4. Walking without moving

    “Need to find a place to sleep it off mate. Streets are for shit this time of night.” Her back had been turned and the voice nearly had her jump out of her skin. Wide crimson orbs hit the stranger with a palpable fear. A foot was already sliding back behind her. She was about to bolt, held only by his own expression like a deer in headlights. He was looking at her like he knew… only his expression didn’t hold the visceral hatred she had seen in so many eyes that had come before his. "Come with me" Eyes darted to Will. Were they going to go with this man? The question was still in her eyes when she looked back at the stranger in time to see the sea green patterns on his forearm. The brow that had furled so tightly a moment before seemed to wash away into something almost serenely smooth. Crimson lifted to blink at him, pupils still flushed with doubt but the absolute terror had receded for the time being. “If you can’t keep up you’re going to die.” Lower lip drug through her teeth as she watched the man pull his rucksack back onto his shoulder and begin to walk away. Breath stuttered as she looked at the man on the curb that had been trying to help her. Are….are you going with him…? Her voice shook as it whispered. The stranger was beginning to get further away. They needed to decide now. Head shook slowly as her hands wrung inside the too long sleeves. I… I have to go with him…. I cant stay here…. Door to the bar slammed shut, the oceanid jumping to look up…. a patron staring at them both before heading in the opposite direction. ….I cant stay here….. The whisper held the fear she had been suffocating under for the last few months. The faint nod was a goodbye if he decided not to follow, or just an invite to follow if he was. Bare feet slapped the pavement rapidly as she moved to catch up with the stranger whose long strides had put too much distance between them already. The scent of ocean waters was getting stronger. They were moving towards the water…. this birthed a fresh fear in the outworlder…
  5. Walking without moving

    This had been a mistake. Whatever courage she had somehow mustered to join him seeking the mystery boat that might take her away from the hatred had evaporated as he pushed people's buttons. Was he trying to help her? Or get her captured! The entire episode had her that more skittish as crimson orbs flitted like a frightened hummingbird across every shifting shadow down the street. "I don’t think it's broken…" He had already said that… several times. She looked like a homeless child in her ill fitting clothes and he had waltzed her into town like they were on a date. It was insane. But to his word, no one really paid her much attention here other than random attempts to crudely catcall after her. The tousled russet locks were every bit "Irish" and this town was a metropolis compared to the small secluded town she had been living in previously so "awareness" of the price on her head was definitely not on the radar yet. Wet palms were rubbed on the tails of the oversized shirt, wary gaze resting a moment on the ebony void that was the ocean waters. She hadn't been this close to these foreign waters in a long time. No one was going to help her here. No one was going to help her. This was a mistake. The soft words barely whispered into the night. The crimson orbs darting at shadows before looking down at him sitting on the curb nursing his bloody nose. This…… this was a mistake. Head shook, fingers nervously rubbing over the sea gem on her finger, the last fragment of a home she would never see again. There is nowhere to go….. no one to help…..
  6. Walking without moving

    "There are ways out for people…." Head lifted instantly, bright crimson orbs wide and attentive. A way out? "…..but someone smuggles people like you out of Ireland. Hold this." As if on autopilot her finger held down the bandage still blinking at him as though he had two heads. No one had ever said there was a way out. But the attentive interest faded soon to a frown as the haze of liquor was clearly lifting and the man spoke more in earnest. Fishing trawlers. He was talking about boats…. boats that went on this world's demented waters. The salvation he was offering was cursed in a way he could never fathom. Concern flooded her thoughts as he discarded the kit for something more industrial he found under the bed and wrapped the bandage with the tape talking about the size of the ships. It didn’t matter their size, she wouldn’t go on one. Would she? The very mists of the sea waters would soon drench her on a trek across an ocean. She wasn’t familiar with this worlds full topography but she doubted an ocean here was a brief stint across a lake of water. She had stood on the cliffs of IReland and looked out onto those waters. Land was nowhere in sight. As he sat on the bed, her lips parted, about to ask how long the journey would be when he answered it for her. A week. There was no way she could be on a ship that long and her secret not be exposed. This man who helped her wouldn’t be so helpful when the demon made its presence known. Lower lip was chewed. Here…. in Ireland… she would be hunted until she too was lynched. Her face was on posters in the town where her shop once stood, having been a part of the community they felt deceived and had made sure her image was spread far and wide. There… on a ship…. on the ocean… she might also end up hunted just in smaller quarters where her only escape would be the waters she had avoided for the last six years. Tonight? Her voice was small and tinted with surprise. So soon? "Think you can walk on that?" He wanted to go now. What did she want to do? Hands wrung in the fabric of the shirt that was far too large for her. What DID she want to do? There was no life here. None. Out there. Maybe. Nod was hesitant at first. It was a scrape after all. She had been a warrior once. She had been a warrior once. The thought brought a stern expression of resolve as she stood up, testing the leg gingerly. Yes. I can walk. Are you ….. are you sure you want to help me? If you are seen… they will….. Head shook. He would be hunted same as she if anyone saw him aid an outworlder. He wouldn’t be able to stay in Ireland either.
  7. Walking without moving

    "Rhyse... It's ok, you're safe here. But if we don't take a look at that leg it could get infected. Best to be sure, right?" Lower lip was chewed nervously before finally nodding as he inquired if he could use the wipe on her bleeding wound. He was right of course. She had gotten an infection once on a cut, germs here were different than on her world and she had ended up extremely ill. He was gentle….. it was strange. She hadnt had so much as a kind word since the riots had begun months ago. By now, surely he knew she was not of earth. "I should probably tell you, I don't really know what I'm doing. Normally I'd buy you a drink first…..Sorry." Brow lifted quizzically at him. He was making small talk. Customers used to do that with her all the time at her café. But that was before all this, back when she smiled back and joked with them…. When life teased of being normal. Crimson eyes watched him straighten her leg, the gauze wrapping again and again around her limb. "So no to Galway then. Do you have another destination in mind?" She was silent a while. Truth was she didn’t know how to answer that question. Did she have a destination in mind? Did she have anywhere to go? She didn’t. She hadnt had a place to go in over two months. Every "place" held people looking to extinguish her life. Why did she fight so hard for it? What was it even worth anymore in this world that didn’t want her to live? Breath sighed from her lips softly as the chin lowered, a defeat in her expression. Head shook. There is nowhere to go……nowhere safe……
  8. Walking without moving

    He sat and she instantly stood, the flutter of skittish flight almost palpable in the air as she swallowed hard. She didn’t used to fear the earth people. But the last few months proved that they were not what she had first thought. Small fingers pulled nervously at the hem of her shirt, it was large over the long shorts. Up close it was fairly clear the clothes were not meant for her. Two weeks ago she had been forced from her cliffside retreat, chased by a "pack" of twelve and forced to take to the foreign ocean that she feared. The resulting transformation had allowed her to swim an escape but also left her without the human clothing that had been selected for her. These had been "borrowed" from a clothes line in a northern town. Silence hung thick as the crimson orbs flicked around the room. She had brown contacts once, but those too were lost now. Eyes hovered over old curtains on small windows before words broke the silence causing her to visibly jump. Walk into Galway! Was he nuts! She would be slaughtered! Head shook vehemently, confirming she had no desire to be walked anywhere. She hadn't been inside the borders of a real town in two months, not since she went on the run. She had seen too much blood… had too many near misses herself. "Wait, I have a first aid kit." If he hadnt noticed she wasn’t earthborn yet, he was about to. Head shook as a very soft… I'm ok…. Came from her lips, bending slightly to tug the long shorts over the blood. In the dark it was just blood, but under too much light the deep blue color would no longer be mistaken for dark red. But he didn’t seem to hear or care as he rummaged for the kit. Backing up from him she didn’t have far to go, back of her knees hitting the edge of the bed forcing her to lose her balance and end up sitting on the mattress. This wasn’t likely to go well.
  9. Walking without moving

    Breathing came in ragged gasps as she braced for the worst. Listening to the scrape of shoes against the gravel, the shift of the van as weight pressed against it, the heavy waft of sea and liquor permeating the wet cold air. The first "hey" was met with a tightening of limbs around her, as though the mop of red hair was all that existed under a shrinking creature trying to disappear into the earth. This was the end. "Hey. Come on, you can't sit there all night, you'll freeze." It took a moment for the words to sink in, breathing slowing a hair as she tried to figure out what to do. A word of kindness wasn’t something she had heard in over a month now. "Do you have somewhere to go? I mean, do you need somewhere to stay?" With that the wet mop shifted, lifting as the shadowed features peered up at the man standing beside the van. Skittish gaze went down the corridor of vehicle carcasses before hesitantly looking at him once more when he patted the van. "It's not exactly the Ritz, but there's room for one more." Ritz? What was a "Ritz". Form of prison?.., home? …store? She had lived in this world nearly ten years now and still their culture and words could baffle her. Their tongue had taken her nearly three years to learn, the melodic cadence of the Irish accent blending with her more natural language to form a unique sound of its own. "I'm Will." For the first time the gaze lifted up to meet his own, the red orbs flicking like a nervous hummingbird to their surroundings before lifting once more to him. She was cold and injured. The cold didn’t bother her as much as the latter though. She could not run right now if she wanted. Therefore the logical choice was….. Rhyse…….I'm Rhyse….. The melody was rich in the quiet confession, a haunting ghost of the Irish lands and something more. Pushing to her feet it became apparent she was a petite thing, the hummingbird dart of her crimson orbs almost disconcerting as the flight instinct remained thick. She held back as the stranger went for the door, holding it open for her. To go in would mean to be trapped. To stay out in the elements would mean to be hunted. It was not much of a choice. Fingers tugged at the long shorts hem to try and cover the bleeding knee as she took the first steps towards the van. Trapped it was. Head ducked as she went inside, trying to make out the dark interior. It smelled thick of ocean and liquor, the scent almost suffocating in the confined space. Head snapped around as the door slammed closed behind him, breath a bit too rapid as she inched a bit further away. Now what………
  10. Walking without moving

    The tremble was uncontrollable as she heard a door on the very vehicle she was hiding under slowly open. She had seen some outworlders die already. Drug like animals into the street where they were beaten literally to death. One she had witnessed had been doused in kerosene and lit ablaze. There had been a time…. a lifetime ago… a world apart from this one… when she had been the hero of the story. She was a warrior and led armies against their enemies all within the sanctuary of familiar waters. But on this world…in this place that still felt so foreign…..she was nothing… and she was about to die like a stripped and beaten dog. Hands covered her face as if lack of site might make it all go away. Then the unthinkable. Body pushed in beside hers and lips parted, breath heaving in to scream. The sound bubbled up from deep in her soul but it abruptly halted itself as his arm draped over her. Something in the touch said it was not a hostile motion. Breath stuttered as eyes remained wild, dusting with light to sparkle like rubies as the torchlight passed by, draped once more into the abyss of darkness when it passed. Gaze flicked at the stranger beside her on the cold wet ground, unsure if he was savior or simply keeping the kill for himself. She had never known such sadistic temperament until she had been thrust into this world. As they waited, senses began to drown in the scent of this worlds ocean. The man beside her wreaked of the salted waters. Shudder ran through her as she realized if he had been doused in enough of it he could have triggered her change, a fate she had avoided for years. In the darkness the light returned and once again she trembled, waiting for the worst. Flight instincts had every muscle coiled wanting to flee but she managed to remain still beside the stranger as they were passed by once more. Liquor. It was ocean and liquor that he wreaked of. The combination was one that had her skittish. She waited. Listening. The engines roared back to life and moved away from the junk yard. The moment she was sure they were moving away, the sound growing more distant, she scrambled out from under the van, terrified the man was going to make his move now. Hands pushed against the gravel and weeds to launch her back to her feet but as she did so the left leg gave out under her. The yelp was swallowed as she again tried to scramble to her feet but again the left leg collapsed. Gravel covered hands pulled the side of the wide knee length shorts up to look at the flap of skin that was loose above the knee where she had fallen blood beading down the leg in thick streams. The knee itself was already swelling violently. She wouldn’t be able to outrun them now. It was over. The soft sound was painful to listen to as the sob was swallowed in her chest, knees drawing up gingerly as her arms wrapped around them, face hiding in her arms as she awaited the end.
  11. Walking without moving

    Bare feet pounded over wet grass, the slip of a girl skidding and tripping several times across the overgrown fields. Wet "Irish" red curls bounced out from under the gray hoodie she normally had pulled low over her eyes to mask the red orbs in shadow. Noise roared behind her, hostile screams and engines. She had been discovered on a farm outside of Galway, taking a squash from their unkempt garden. She was starving and thought the place abandoned but quickly found it was housing extremists who were all too eager to hunt her down. The shots fired after her in the dark let her know clearly they were happy to get the reduced reward for capturing her not so alive. She had made a dangerous miscalculation, her direction leading her towards Galway, not away from it. Sunken features peeked up to the moon, drizzle saturating through her worn clothes as panic continued to skew her judgment. A zag through the high brush of the field moved her right into the outer dirt path of a junkyard. Toes cut on the stones as she fought to change direction on the gravel, darting towards rows of abandoned cars in the salvage yard that had once been reserved for old home doors and sinks but after the fall became a dump of dead vehicles and debris. The Oceanid had been on the run for nearly two months, ever since she had been outted as an Outworlder and her café/bakery had been burned to the ground. If she had sought refuge in the ocean waters perhaps she would be better off but she was afraid of the strange waters of this world and ingrained with self loathing that stemmed from her first encounter with humans in her altered form. Demon, devil, ugly…… words that resonated powerfully in her memory leaving her loath to live near its shores where thread of transformation loomed. A shadow of her former shy but gentle self she had been a warrior of the sea, never a land survivalist. The last months had not been kind. Turn down a corridor of vehicles and she lost her footing, slide on her left leg leaving nasty scrapes before she managed to scramble back onto her feet, motorcycles making the edge of the junkyard, tires skidding as they taunted wicked promises of the "fun" they were going to have. Turning hard among the piled cars that rose taller than her head she ran smack into the side of an old camper, rocking it before she dropped to the ground and rolled underneath the body, just barely able to squeeze under the base that no longer sported inflated tires. Hand clapped over her mouth to try and douse the heaving breaths as hot tears ran down flushed cheeks. It was the end.