haventkilledusyet | 1st Fight

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1st Fight - [ action ]

[Another New Feather season, another flood of confused new residents. Unfortunately, Gretel has no idea how routine this is for the village. She, actually, knows very little of anything at present. She only knows not to stop moving, to keep going. If she stops to rest now, she won't get up, and it's cold enough that she knows to fear exposure. She hasn't lived this long just to be killed by the cold.

Her body shows signs of the ordeal she's obviously been put through since her arrival. Dressed in only the New Feather gown, there is no hiding the abuse of the elements. Her skin is red from the chill she's fighting, and there are scratches on her legs and hands as well as blood on her bare feet, fresh against the well-worn scars on her body. She's walked all day, crossed the field after waking alone and barely dressed and fought her way through the branches of the forest, guided by a few tall buildings that served as the promise of civilization. Faint traces of vomit cling to her lips and the back of her hand despite an earlier attempt to clean it off. The cause is likely the patch of feathers missing from her left wing.

The fountain glitters in the light of the moon, and Gretel uses it as a focus. Walking all day is nothing new, but she's barely dressed -- especially for this weather -- and has an untreated wound. Or, at least, that's what the damage to the unwanted growth on her back feels like. She has resisted the allure of every source of water, too worried she might slump over and never be found. But the buildings all around her, even dark as they might be right now, promise traffic come morning.

Gretel's throat burns as she drops to her knees and cups her hands to bring water to her mouth. She's shouted herself hoarse as she's walked all day, and now the fatigue is setting in. She's not sure she can even get up any time soon without some help.]

(Two requests for Gretel's first Luceti encounter: please no magic users or non-humans. Either would provoke a very violent reaction, and I'd prefer to avoid that for this thread. Thanks.)

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It won't.

[He's impressed by both the grip and the weight, but it still won't keep him from concentrating on the fact that she needs more than just sleep...or that he was going to have to be careful dealing with her.

He gets her arm over his shoulders, propping her up with his own weight and strength. He has to take a moment to readjust his stance; he still has a way to go before his leg is completely healed. But after a moment, he's sure of it and starts forward.]

Let's get you someplace warm first. Then we'll talk about getting you a place to sleep.

[Although he's still thinking of calling Adele; this woman needs more than sleep.]

Anyone manage to give you a run down of this place?

Magic kidnapping, yeah.

[Because that's what it comes down to.

She keeps a grip on him, using him as a support system while her eyes focus straight ahead. She doesn't know where she's going, but she's not going to look away from every step she's taking. It helps them land right, even if she's still half seeing stars.

Somewhere warm is all she needs. Maybe a bed to stretch out on and rest. As far as she's concerned? The last thing she needs is a doctor.]

Magic or science that's far enough ahead to be considered magic, yeah. Story is though that it's not really the people keeping us in the enclosure that brought us here; they just put us in this place to keep us 'safe' from the stuff outside of the boundary; take that as you will. Not sure what part of it all I'd buy, though.

[He's moving slow, but so far, he's doing fine. There's a slight limp, and he knows it'll be sore come morning, but he can't keep babying it forever.

It doesn't take long to get to the bar; Derek will guide her in and to a quiet booth towards the back, helping her to settle in.]

Need anything stronger to drink, or more water? They might have some sort of soup or something on hand. [Chips, maybe.]

[Still a coven, still going to die.

But she lets herself be guided to a warm building with a place to sit. She half slumps down and only sort of listens when he speaks. Still, she catches the offer for food.]

Soup's good. [Warm and filling.]

Water, too. Ale if they have it.

[Normally, on a job, she wouldn't drink, but alcohol will help the pain a little.]

[Derek nods and makes his way off to get all three, and some crackers to go with the soup. Although he seems to have focused on that, he's still keeping an eye on her while he gets the stuff, has a few exchanges with the bartender on staff, and makes his way back with the tray.

He'll settle the whole tray in front of her before sliding back on his own side.]

...you're probably hurting really bad because of the wing injury. They're our lifeline while we're here, so hurting them messes us up pretty bad. Removing them will kill you. You might want to let the doc take a look at it, get it bandaged up. It'll help.

Edited 2013-03-07 19:22 (UTC)

[The soup's the first thing she goes for, dipping the... thin, hard pieces of bread into it before eating them. She won't remark on the pointlessness of them. Or the fact that they're not even warm.

Hot, porous bread to soak up the broth.

But she won't complain. It's food from a man who doesn't look like he's in the thrall of a witch's spell. So she'll take what she can get.

And without any remorse, even if it did cause her the pain she's in right now, she says:]

Tried to rip it off.

[If Good Spirits had a better selection, he would have gotten the bread she was wishing for instead. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and he hasn't been in his own apartment long enough to have anything to offer her, even if he'd thought they could have stumbled all the way down to CH6.

He nods at the statement.]

Yeah, not a few folks have tried that; didn't work out too well for them, either.

[He extends his own pair out so that she can see them past his shoulders; the underside pattern is easily recognizable as belonging to some sort of hunting hawk. He'll give them a good flex and flap to show her the solid anchoring they have.]

Far as I can tell, they're pretty much woven into the bone, nerves, and muscle. Maybe even the spine. And they're damned sensitive at the best of times. I'm surprised you're not out cold if you tried to rip yours off.

[Seeing his extend makes Gretel all the more conscious of her own, tucked tight against her back. At least they have the sense to want to meld back into her flesh.]

It can't be black magic. [That much, she knows.] Sure as hell isn't like any white magic I've seen.

[But, then. How long ago had she learned about white magic? Not very. So there could be other types. Something in between? The thought makes her sick. This sort of thing isn't supposed to happen to her.]

Couldn't tell you. I just know everyone that gets dragged into this place gets stuck with a pair.

[He'll fold his back neatly, likewise snugging them up tight against his shirt.]

...S'all right if I ask where you came from originally? S'all right if the answer is 'no'.

[That question makes Gretel think. Or maybe she's just eating. Where she came from originally... isn't something she likes. But she'll settle for where she came from before here.]

I don't know what kingdom I was in. One of a cluster, and my brother and I were never very good at knowing where one stopped and another started. We just went where there was a job.

[That? She can offer details.]

We're witch hunters. So, we hear about witch activity, we go. Doesn't matter what kingdom it is or where we have to travel to. So... I kind of lost track along the way. Never really cared that much in the first place.

[...so much like his own life. Wow. Other than not knowing where he was at any given time, this is.]

That would explain a lot. [He says that with a glance to one of her scars. It would also explain her seeming fixation with magic, especially the 'bad' type.]

I'm a vampire hunter, myself. Can definitely relate.

[Every scar has a story. Most of them are hunts, and they have lessons learned to go with hem. The little things, the important ones.]

Vampires, huh? Haven't run into those.

[She almost smiles, trying to ignore the pain she's still in. At least she's warming up and has food.]

Fire work?

[For someone who has just stated he's a hunter as well, Derek by turn seems to be remarkably clean of any scars or old wounds. Almost flawless, in fact.]

Sort of. It makes for a good distraction, but if you're trying to kill it, there's no substitute for stake, behead and putting them out in the sunlight. Anything else tends to just piss them off.

So...witches, huh? That's something we don't have.

[Skilled, she'll the lack of noticable injuries down to when she's more able to notice such things, or with something more than luck on his side. She's seen enough of both.

The latter? Usually ends badly.]

Mean and ugly. With them, beheading's not a bad way to go. Best to just burn 'em, though.

Have to do anything special, or just make sure they stay in the fire?

[He's still watching her closely; if she starts fading too much, he's going to call Adele, whether Gretal wants it or not.]

I like killing them first. Slit a throat, take off a head, skin 'em. Something like that. Then, just to be sure? Burn what's left.

[And it's all said... somewhat gleefully. Or, at least, she certainly seems pleased with herself.]

[He notes the tone, and it causes the slightest quirk of an eyebrow. She sounded like a lot of the hunters back home.

The ones that enjoyed their job maybe just a little too much.

Still, it might be the injuries talking. Either way, he's in no position to judge; he doesn't know what's happened to her that makes killing witches more than just a necessary job.]</small. So it might not be necessary, but you like to make sure.

I know it works. Witches who get burned? Don't come back.

I don't like taking chances with that kind of thing.

I can definitely agree with that sentiment.

You get a lot of newcomers in your field? God. Hate it when amateurs come along.

All the time. They learn fast. Or they don't make it through the first hunt.

We tend to draft people who already know how to fight, though. Cuts down on the 'casualty from stupidity' list.

We get a few. Most of them don't live past the first witch. Far as my brother and I are concerned? Amateurs need to not bother. More witches than there are hunters, sure, but some stupid kid getting himself killed doesn't help anyone.

Makes sense.

How long you been at it?

Fifteen years, give or take a couple months.

'Bout the same, here. That the average?

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