Topics

Make Him Free #hawkins #alessandra

Ben
 

Who: Hawkins

With: Marcus, Kyky

Where: The King’s Castle - Dungeon

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Hawkins was well and truly at the end of his rope. He had dealt with the superstitious crews. He had dealt with the shady captain. Shoot, he could have dealt with being thrown in jail due to said captain. But to be named an enemy of the realm and thrown in the King’s Dungeon? That was a but much. Even worse, he was placed in a cell across from a known werewolf with the full moon approaching! Even if he couldn’t break out of the cell, that didn’t mean she couldn’t.


Casting a glance across the hall, he could just make out the werewolf’s silhouette in the dim lighting. Despite all the festivities going on outside, very little light or sound made it this far into the castle keep. He had tried everything he knew to break out over the last week, but nothing seemed to work. The walls and door were too well built, there was nothing he could pick the lock with, and the one window in his cell was way out of reach. His only hope had been to reach his sword, which was leaned against the wall just outside of his cell, but that was just out of reach too. Thankfully, they had let him keep his regular clothes to protect against the winter chill in the air.


After checking his different escape options for the umpteenth time, he slumped against the back wall. It would seem he was never getting out of there. Not unless a miracle came his way.


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Rachel Balla
 

Alessandra missed her son, back in New York. She missed her husband, and his touch. She missed her friends in the Marauders. She missed meat. The last week had been torture - not just the deprivation of these things, but the realization that she would never have them again. The acknowledgement that her best option was suicide rather than waiting for the Braveheart-esque execution she expected sooner than later was harrowing - especially since she didn't see any options in that regard. She didn't want to die.


She strode forward, draping her forearms through the bars. Her elbows rested against the iron, and her hands lifted to caress the bars up to her face. Then, violently, she grabbed them and shook, with more energy and vehemence than she had dared all week, and let out a bark of frustration when they didn't give.


Sucking in a breath of frustration, Alessandra turned her back and sunk down against the bars. Heaving sighs heavy enough that her breath implied she might vomit, she coughed out a sob.


"I'm going to turn tonight," she said aloud, in the first attempt to reach out to the cellmates around her. They might have been criminals, but they weren't creatures. Alessandra had been counting hours. It might have been easier with the sun to guide her, but she had spent enough time as a werewolf to know. "I'm sorry… I never wanted this."


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Ben
 

Who: Hawkins

With: Alessandra

Where: The King’s Castle - Dungeon

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Hawkins looked up with a start. He hadn’t been entirely certain of what he’d heard, but it had almost sounded like the werewolf spoke. And here he’d thought she was mute. Or at least didn’t want to speak to someone like him. And now she was talking about turning? That didn’t bode well in the slightest for him. If she turned and got out, who was to say she wouldn’t try to break into his cell and kill him?


Her next statement caught him even more off guard. Why was she apologizing? Why wouldn’t she want this? Wasn’t it her instinct to just kill anyone she came across? Hawkins shook his head in confusion. He had always considered himself a fairly open-minded person, but this seemed a bit much, even for him. Since when had werewolves ever regretted the chance to hurt people?


Then again, here he was, a left-handed sailor. He was supposed to be the devil’s spawn, but he could do good as well. Maybe it wasn’t so weird after all. But what could he do about it now?


“Why?” His voice seemed to croak after a week of non-use. “Why are you sorry?” This felt strange in so many different ways. Hawkins had done a lot of things in his life, but talking to werewolves was never something in his hopes and dreams. “Would you take back the things you’ve done?”


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On Thu, Aug 9, 2018 at 12:29 AM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Alessandra missed her son, back in New York. She missed her husband, and his touch. She missed her friends in the Marauders. She missed meat. The last week had been torture - not just the deprivation of these things, but the realization that she would never have them again. The acknowledgement that her best option was suicide rather than waiting for the Braveheart-esque execution she expected sooner than later was harrowing - especially since she didn't see any options in that regard. She didn't want to die.


She strode forward, draping her forearms through the bars. Her elbows rested against the iron, and her hands lifted to caress the bars up to her face. Then, violently, she grabbed them and shook, with more energy and vehemence than she had dared all week, and let out a bark of frustration when they didn't give.


Sucking in a breath of frustration, Alessandra turned her back and sunk down against the bars. Heaving sighs heavy enough that her breath implied she might vomit, she coughed out a sob.


"I'm going to turn tonight," she said aloud, in the first attempt to reach out to the cellmates around her. They might have been criminals, but they weren't creatures. Alessandra had been counting hours. It might have been easier with the sun to guide her, but she had spent enough time as a werewolf to know. "I'm sorry… I never wanted this."


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--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “Why?” “Why are you sorry?” “Would you take back the things you’ve done?”


A sort of growl echoed from Alessandra's throat around the stone walls of the dungeon. At first, her instinct was to snap. Becoming a werewolf had been an accident - she had been a victim! Not just when she was bitten, but by every healer who betrayed her and every townsperson who sold her out…


But over time, she knew, she had embraced it. There were stories about infected wolves who would turn themselves in and submit to a humane execution because they knew it was the responsible thing to do. She didn't have the guts for that. She didn't even have the guts to wait here with her thoughts alone any longer. And so she was grateful that the other prisoner responded, and she squashed the desire to snap at him. He would likely be the last real person she spoke to.


"Every single one of them," Alessandra admitted. The thoughts had rattled through her head every minute since she'd been taken. Regret. Marrying a violent man on Earth. Getting pregnant by him. Not leaving sooner. Taking the quest on which she'd been bitten. Helping to lead what was essentially a terrorist organization…


Every mistake of her life, she wanted to take back. There were reasons and justifications, of course, but those mistakes had led her here, and she would give anything to be anywhere else.


She shifted a bit, peering through the darkness in the direction of the voice. The dungeon had only a single torch burning, and its light didn't go far. Guards usually brought their own, when they made the rounds. Alessandra supposed it was a safety precaution. With ventilation this shitty, they could die of smoke inhalation or, like, carbon monoxide poisoning if the room were ever sufficiently lit.


"Are they going to execute you, too?"


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Ben
 

Who: Hawkins

With: Alessandra

Where: The King’s Castle - Dungeon

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Hawkins tensed at the growl that seemed to reverberate through the dungeon itself. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. Maybe the stories were all true, and this werewolf would tear him apart without a second’s hesitation. But she had seemed to genuine…


“Has your life been that terrible? Have you done good for anyone? Made someone smile, even once?” He felt odd asking a fellow prisoner all of these questions, but it seemed like she had something she wanted to get off her chest. Questions seemed to be the best way to go.


He shifted around a little in his cell. Stone was never a particularly comfortable seat, so finding a way to sit without becoming sore was difficult to say the least. It didn’t help that silence was the most common sound in the dungeon either. No one seemed to want to speak to the others, so conversations like these were rare even in the best of times. Hawkins wished more than anything to be back on his ship, sailing the seas and bettering the world. Even though the ship wasn’t much bigger than these cells, at least they were going somewhere. As it was, Hawkins hadn’t left his cell for a week and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.


“Possibly. Me trial has been out off on account of the festival. I’ll be here for a long time to say the least.” And there was the matter that seemed to weigh on him most. He hadn’t done anything other than what his captain commanded of him, yet here he was, rotting in jail while the captain ran free. It seems his loyalty to captain and crew had finally dumped him in the deep end.


“It would seem though that I’m here instead of others. I don’t regret me life, but it would have been nice to sail the seas again with me friends, just one last time.”


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On Sun, Aug 12, 2018 at 6:34 PM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “Why?” “Why are you sorry?” “Would you take back the things you’ve done?”


A sort of growl echoed from Alessandra's throat around the stone walls of the dungeon. At first, her instinct was to snap. Becoming a werewolf had been an accident - she had been a victim! Not just when she was bitten, but by every healer who betrayed her and every townsperson who sold her out…


But over time, she knew, she had embraced it. There were stories about infected wolves who would turn themselves in and submit to a humane execution because they knew it was the responsible thing to do. She didn't have the guts for that. She didn't even have the guts to wait here with her thoughts alone any longer. And so she was grateful that the other prisoner responded, and she squashed the desire to snap at him. He would likely be the last real person she spoke to.


"Every single one of them," Alessandra admitted. The thoughts had rattled through her head every minute since she'd been taken. Regret. Marrying a violent man on Earth. Getting pregnant by him. Not leaving sooner. Taking the quest on which she'd been bitten. Helping to lead what was essentially a terrorist organization…


Every mistake of her life, she wanted to take back. There were reasons and justifications, of course, but those mistakes had led her here, and she would give anything to be anywhere else.


She shifted a bit, peering through the darkness in the direction of the voice. The dungeon had only a single torch burning, and its light didn't go far. Guards usually brought their own, when they made the rounds. Alessandra supposed it was a safety precaution. With ventilation this shitty, they could die of smoke inhalation or, like, carbon monoxide poisoning if the room were ever sufficiently lit.


"Are they going to execute you, too?"


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--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “Has your life been that terrible? Have you done good for anyone? Made someone smile, even once?”


Alessandra offered a weak shrug instead of a verbal response. Sure, she'd made people smile. Her husband had given up his farm - and thus his entire sense of normalcy - to be with her. Her conversation with Marcus that last night was the most recent and thus the most potent in her memory. He'd laughed and joked, telling her - essentially - to go live. If she had gone to dance and drink the night away and fallen asleep in her mate's arms, maybe she wouldn't be here. But she'd never know for sure.


Hawkins: “Possibly. Me trial has been out off on account of the festival. I’ll be here for a long time to say the least.” … “It would seem though that I’m here instead of others. I don’t regret me life, but it would have been nice to sail the seas again with me friends, just one last time.”


A sob caught in Alessandra's throat at his final words. "One last time," she echoed. One more raid. One more romp with Evan. One more… phone call with her son. That's all she wanted, now. "Just one last time."


She wouldn't get one last anything, though, except this final conversation. So Alessandra decided to indulge it, the same way she would have any other of her last wishes. She pressed her cheek against the bar of her cell to get the best possible view of the other prisoner as he spoke. His words spoke to a story that might give her a reprieve from her own thoughts, at least for a time.


"So you're a pirate?" Alessandra assumed, for that was the only category she put "sailors" into in Eventyr, with nowhere legitimate to trade with. With an almost flippant shrug of her shoulder, Alessandra pushed. "Who should be here instead of you?" Lord knows, she could name ten in her own stead…


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Ben
 

Hawkins could barely make out the shrug in response to his questions. Seems other people could have a life just as hard as his. If she was to be executed, maybe this conversation would mean more to her than he thought. That thought was confirmed with the sob he heard from the other cell. Maybe she was more human than she seemed. His thoughts were interrupted by her next question.


“Nay, not a pirate, though I’ve been put here because I looked like one. Ye could say I’m a pirate hunter, though. At least I was until recently.” Hawkins let his head sink a little lower. To be imprisoned as a pirate, when his life’s goal was to rid the world of them was a fact he had yet to get over. If he ever got out of his cell, he’d make sure his former captain found himself in one.


“Ah, yes. That would be me former captain. He had me thrown to the wolves and ran with his tail between his legs.” Hawkins paused with a significant start. “Beggin yer pardon, I forgot who I was talkin’ to.” He hoped his slip of the tongue hadn’t upset her. That was the last thing he needed on a night like tonight. With the full moon just around the corner, it would certainly pay to be more cautious.


Following his fellow prisoner’s lead, he moved closer to the bars, if only to catch a glimpse of the person he was talking to. “What would ye do if ye could get out of here? Where would you go?”


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On Wed, Aug 15, 2018 at 9:51 PM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “Has your life been that terrible? Have you done good for anyone? Made someone smile, even once?”


Alessandra offered a weak shrug instead of a verbal response. Sure, she'd made people smile. Her husband had given up his farm - and thus his entire sense of normalcy - to be with her. Her conversation with Marcus that last night was the most recent and thus the most potent in her memory. He'd laughed and joked, telling her - essentially - to go live. If she had gone to dance and drink the night away and fallen asleep in her mate's arms, maybe she wouldn't be here. But she'd never know for sure.


Hawkins: “Possibly. Me trial has been out off on account of the festival. I’ll be here for a long time to say the least.” … “It would seem though that I’m here instead of others. I don’t regret me life, but it would have been nice to sail the seas again with me friends, just one last time.”


A sob caught in Alessandra's throat at his final words. "One last time," she echoed. One more raid. One more romp with Evan. One more… phone call with her son. That's all she wanted, now. "Just one last time."


She wouldn't get one last anything, though, except this final conversation. So Alessandra decided to indulge it, the same way she would have any other of her last wishes. She pressed her cheek against the bar of her cell to get the best possible view of the other prisoner as he spoke. His words spoke to a story that might give her a reprieve from her own thoughts, at least for a time.


"So you're a pirate?" Alessandra assumed, for that was the only category she put "sailors" into in Eventyr, with nowhere legitimate to trade with. With an almost flippant shrug of her shoulder, Alessandra pushed. "Who should be here instead of you?" Lord knows, she could name ten in her own stead…


tags

 




--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “Nay, not a pirate, though I’ve been put here because I looked like one. Ye could say I’m a pirate hunter, though. At least I was until recently.”


"That fucking sucks," Alessandra said, her face curling unpleasantly, as if she'd tasted spoiled milk. He'd been framed as the very thing he fought against. That was another level of messed up. It made her miss New York - at least there was more data to ensure a level of objectivity. It wasn't perfect, of course, but such an obvious mistake wouldn't have happened. Here in Eventyr, it was more he-said-she-said. Unless someone important had wanted him here… which wasn't an impossibility.


Hawkins: “Ah, yes. That would be me former captain. He had me thrown to the wolves and ran with his tail between his legs.” “Beggin yer pardon, I forgot who I was talkin’ to.”


Alessandra let out a dry, humorless laugh as she excused the faux pas. "No worries," she assured, and doubled down on it with a certain indulgent amusement. "We ever get out of here, and I'll hunt him down like the dog he is and get him to show throat. I promise."


Hawkins: “What would ye do if ye could get out of here? Where would you go?”

Alessandra let a grateful smile spread across her face, although she doubted her new friend would see it in this darkness. His question was so kind. He knew she wouldn't get out, and if she did, she wouldn't escape. But the fantasies had been rattling around in her brain, and he offered her the opportunity to voice them to, hopefully!, someone who would outlive her. She loved this not-pirate for that, and her eyes fought the darkness to make out the edges of his face as best she could.

"Home," Alessandra said. "And see my son again. He'll probably be in college by now." With time moving differently between worlds, it was hard to tell. The words sparked a tiny bit of hope in her heart, and, with sudden urgency, she asked, "Do you know New York? Queens?" It was a longshot, but if he did, and he could take a message back…!

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Ben
 

“Aye lass, it was not a good situation.” Hawkins shook his head slowly. More and more he was seeing the human side of this werewolf, and it almost made him forget exactly who he was dealing with. If these creatures truly were monsters, he had yet to see it.


He sighed with relief as she shrugged off his poor choice of words. That too, showed more humanity than he had expected. “I appreciate the thought, lass. Me only request be that I come with ye and see him thrown in this very cell. Though I’d be hard pushed to not run him through with me own blade when we found him. Or at least give ‘im a good sock in the nose.”


Hawkins could just barely make out a smile on the woman’s face in the dim light. She seemed to be recalling fond memories of days long past. He loved those types of memories. You could get lost in them and let yourself fade out of reality. They were a break from the harsh world he’d come to know and it meant peace, at least for a time.


Her answer nearly brought tears to his eyes. Home was always the place he could never go. Home didn’t feel the same anymore. “Aye, home would be good. Yer son must be very smart te get into a college. I’d never make it meself. Can barely read as it is, but I get by.”


The sudden urgency in her next questions startled him a bit. “Nay lass. I cannot say I’ve heard of ‘New York’. What makes it new? And the only queen I’ve know was our late queen, may she rest in peace. What other queens are there? I’m sorry if that troubles ye. But if this ‘New York’ is a new place, I’d surely love to go some day. How do you get there? What is it like?”


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On Sun, Aug 19, 2018 at 4:16 PM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “Nay, not a pirate, though I’ve been put here because I looked like one. Ye could say I’m a pirate hunter, though. At least I was until recently.”


"That fucking sucks," Alessandra said, her face curling unpleasantly, as if she'd tasted spoiled milk. He'd been framed as the very thing he fought against. That was another level of messed up. It made her miss New York - at least there was more data to ensure a level of objectivity. It wasn't perfect, of course, but such an obvious mistake wouldn't have happened. Here in Eventyr, it was more he-said-she-said. Unless someone important had wanted him here… which wasn't an impossibility.


Hawkins: “Ah, yes. That would be me former captain. He had me thrown to the wolves and ran with his tail between his legs.” “Beggin yer pardon, I forgot who I was talkin’ to.”


Alessandra let out a dry, humorless laugh as she excused the faux pas. "No worries," she assured, and doubled down on it with a certain indulgent amusement. "We ever get out of here, and I'll hunt him down like the dog he is and get him to show throat. I promise."


Hawkins: “What would ye do if ye could get out of here? Where would you go?”

Alessandra let a grateful smile spread across her face, although she doubted her new friend would see it in this darkness. His question was so kind. He knew she wouldn't get out, and if she did, she wouldn't escape. But the fantasies had been rattling around in her brain, and he offered her the opportunity to voice them to, hopefully!, someone who would outlive her. She loved this not-pirate for that, and her eyes fought the darkness to make out the edges of his face as best she could.

"Home," Alessandra said. "And see my son again. He'll probably be in college by now." With time moving differently between worlds, it was hard to tell. The words sparked a tiny bit of hope in her heart, and, with sudden urgency, she asked, "Do you know New York? Queens?" It was a longshot, but if he did, and he could take a message back…!

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--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “I appreciate the thought, lass. Me only request be that I come with ye and see him thrown in this very cell. Though I’d be hard pushed to not run him through with me own blade when we found him. Or at least give ‘im a good sock in the nose.”


Wasn't that a fun image? Alessandra allowed the makeshift movie to play out in her mind. She'd stare the offender down, teeth bared, and he would act defiant at first and then shrink away in submission when the gravity of her disease and its communicable nature dawned on him. And then her cellmate here would burst in with a snappy one-liner and punch him across the face. Alessandra might have been pacing in the background, but now his attention was all on his old crew mate. The guilt of the betrayal dueled with his pride…. until ultimately, it isn't the threat that compels his apology, but an authentic realization that he was sorry, and he wanted forgiveness.


The mental movie might have been cheesy, but it beat staring at the grooves between bricks.


Hawkins: “Aye, home would be good. Yer son must be very smart te get into a college. I’d never make it meself. Can barely read as it is, but I get by.”


Alessandra smirked - Jeremy wasn't the smartest, had never earned the best grades, but he had a certain charm to him. His teachers loved him, and they so often accepted mediocre or late work. She supposed that was a life skill. Maybe he'd be a salesman, someday. The uncomfortable wonderings wandered back into her mind - who was looking after him, now that she was gone? Was he able to keep going in school, after realizing his only real parent was likely dead in a ditch somewhere?


Hawkins: “Nay lass. I cannot say I’ve heard of ‘New York’. What makes it new? And the only queen I’ve know was our late queen, may she rest in peace. What other queens are there? I’m sorry if that troubles ye. But if this ‘New York’ is a new place, I’d surely love to go some day. How do you get there? What is it like?”


The disappointment that followed that sliver of hope was crushing. The excited tension in her body deflated, like a the air let out of a balloon. But her fellow prisoner's inquisitive nature left behind some glimmer of hope. Her musings might have been carelessly extravagant, but she let them out.


"In New York, there are towers that stretch a thousand feet into the sky. Giant iron birds can carry you hundreds or thousands of miles in a few hours." Planes weren't as efficient as fairy circles, though, so that wasn't a bragging point. "You can light a torch with the flick of a finger. And call… talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime." God, withdrawing from her phone had been a year-long struggle! "Money…. coins, you don't have to carry. They exist in the cloud. Clouds," she corrected, and gestured upwards. "Never lost. If stolen, replenished." Fraud protection was awesome. None of that here, with pickpockets.."It's home… where my son lives."


Alessandra broke into tears. Sobs echoed throughout the dungeon.


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Ben
 

Hawkins gaped a bit at the description of this fantastical place called ‘New York’. Never in his wildest dreams did he think such a place could exist. Towers a thousand feet tall? Giant iron birds? Being able to talk to anyone from anywhere? It sounded like nonsense. But, here she was, telling him such a place existed.


And then the tears started. Hawkins wasn’t very good with emotions like these. He had worked a long time to suppress them or let them out in different ways. In the harbor or on the open sea, tears were a weakness. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t sympathize with her. He knew what it meant to be away from home, or to never be able to go back. His home had long disappeared with his family. Now his only home was the sea and that had been taken from him too.


Hawkins looked up, expression mixed with anger and grief. “Ye must miss ‘im. Ye can’t have seen ‘im in a long time if it hurts ye this much. Why can’t ye see ‘im? Did someone take that chance from ye?”


This woman had offered him something no one else had. A chance to set things right. Now if he had any say in that matter, he’d offer the same to her. She was obviously more human than anyone had ever given her credit for. She missed her home and she missed her son. And if someone had done that to her, they were more a monster than she could ever be.


“If I can do anything to help ye, lass, name it now. I give me word as a sailor, I’ll see it done.”


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On Fri, Aug 24, 2018 at 9:23 PM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “I appreciate the thought, lass. Me only request be that I come with ye and see him thrown in this very cell. Though I’d be hard pushed to not run him through with me own blade when we found him. Or at least give ‘im a good sock in the nose.”


Wasn't that a fun image? Alessandra allowed the makeshift movie to play out in her mind. She'd stare the offender down, teeth bared, and he would act defiant at first and then shrink away in submission when the gravity of her disease and its communicable nature dawned on him. And then her cellmate here would burst in with a snappy one-liner and punch him across the face. Alessandra might have been pacing in the background, but now his attention was all on his old crew mate. The guilt of the betrayal dueled with his pride…. until ultimately, it isn't the threat that compels his apology, but an authentic realization that he was sorry, and he wanted forgiveness.


The mental movie might have been cheesy, but it beat staring at the grooves between bricks.


Hawkins: “Aye, home would be good. Yer son must be very smart te get into a college. I’d never make it meself. Can barely read as it is, but I get by.”


Alessandra smirked - Jeremy wasn't the smartest, had never earned the best grades, but he had a certain charm to him. His teachers loved him, and they so often accepted mediocre or late work. She supposed that was a life skill. Maybe he'd be a salesman, someday. The uncomfortable wonderings wandered back into her mind - who was looking after him, now that she was gone? Was he able to keep going in school, after realizing his only real parent was likely dead in a ditch somewhere?


Hawkins: “Nay lass. I cannot say I’ve heard of ‘New York’. What makes it new? And the only queen I’ve know was our late queen, may she rest in peace. What other queens are there? I’m sorry if that troubles ye. But if this ‘New York’ is a new place, I’d surely love to go some day. How do you get there? What is it like?”


The disappointment that followed that sliver of hope was crushing. The excited tension in her body deflated, like a the air let out of a balloon. But her fellow prisoner's inquisitive nature left behind some glimmer of hope. Her musings might have been carelessly extravagant, but she let them out.


"In New York, there are towers that stretch a thousand feet into the sky. Giant iron birds can carry you hundreds or thousands of miles in a few hours." Planes weren't as efficient as fairy circles, though, so that wasn't a bragging point. "You can light a torch with the flick of a finger. And call… talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime." God, withdrawing from her phone had been a year-long struggle! "Money…. coins, you don't have to carry. They exist in the cloud. Clouds," she corrected, and gestured upwards. "Never lost. If stolen, replenished." Fraud protection was awesome. None of that here, with pickpockets.."It's home… where my son lives."


Alessandra broke into tears. Sobs echoed throughout the dungeon.


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--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “Ye must miss ‘im. Ye can’t have seen ‘im in a long time if it hurts ye this much. Why can’t ye see ‘im? Did someone take that chance from ye?”


The outpouring of emotion in Alessandra's tears took a sharp turn toward anger - although not toward Hawkins. It was such an instinctual reaction that it transitioned seamlessly from sobbing to growling.


"The goddamn fucking wolf took it from me!" Alessandra bit out, teeth grit as tightly as her fist around the bar near her cheek. Realizing how loud her voice was, when her acute hearing caught it bouncing off the walls like daggers, she forced herself to take a deep breath. She remembered watching stupid self-help youtube videos about how being in the moment would help her mindfully meditate or whatever else. Clearly bullshit. Surging to her feet in an effort to burn off a fraction of the tension coursing through her body, Alessandra tried to continue with whatever rationality she could muster. But she could feel the moon coming, and it was a struggle.


"When it bit me, I lost everything. The only way to get home," that she knew of, "is through a fairy circle. Werewolves can't use them. I'm stranded here." She breathed out a tense sigh and forced her tightly-wound shoulders to shrug. "Where people are coming from far and wide to watch me tortured to death… because I was bitten."


Hawkins: “If I can do anything to help ye, lass, name it now. I give me word as a sailor, I’ll see it done.”


His final offer struck home to her, and softened her posture a touch. She couldn't think of anything to ask. He had given her so much, just to listen.


"Tell me your name," Alessandra implored. She returned to the bars separating them - while they were housed one empty cell apart, even in the dark, she could make out the shape of his face. Taking a risk, she reached a hand through the bars, as far as she could. Her bicep was pinched uncomfortably, but she still extended her arm further, fingers reaching out to him. "I'm Alessandra, now. Once upon a time, my name was Jennifer."


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Ben
 

Hawkins flinched at the sudden volume from his fellow prisoner. It made sense for her to be so angry. It’s not like she wanted this to happen. Who in their right mind would choose to be a monster like that? He watched her stand up and walk away for a moment. ‘She really hates this life.’


“That really is a shame…” Hawkins couldn’t believe what he was hearing. To be told that not only is your life forever going to be different, but that you can never go home and never see your family again. That would hurt more than anything in the world. He let his head droop a little, not wanting to show weakness, but unable to completely hide his emotions. “Lass, I’ve gone through many painful things in me life, but nothing quite like that…”


Hawkins took a moment and looked up again, his face hardening into a grimace. “Should I ever get the chance, I’ll make sure that wolf pays for ‘is crimes. No one should have to endure what ye have.”


Hawkins was surprised by her request. Nobody wanted to know an old seadog like him. He’d been in the background for years, never truly belonging anywhere, and here she was, asking his name like they could be friends. And what was wrong with that? Nothing wrong with making a friend before they each met their fate.


Hawkins attempted to reach through the bars as well. He winced as the bars squeezed his arm, but he pushed through it until he could reach the outstretched hand. “Hawkins is me name. Hawkins Atwater, at your service lass.”


Tags!



On Wed, Aug 29, 2018 at 9:29 PM Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “Ye must miss ‘im. Ye can’t have seen ‘im in a long time if it hurts ye this much. Why can’t ye see ‘im? Did someone take that chance from ye?”


The outpouring of emotion in Alessandra's tears took a sharp turn toward anger - although not toward Hawkins. It was such an instinctual reaction that it transitioned seamlessly from sobbing to growling.


"The goddamn fucking wolf took it from me!" Alessandra bit out, teeth grit as tightly as her fist around the bar near her cheek. Realizing how loud her voice was, when her acute hearing caught it bouncing off the walls like daggers, she forced herself to take a deep breath. She remembered watching stupid self-help youtube videos about how being in the moment would help her mindfully meditate or whatever else. Clearly bullshit. Surging to her feet in an effort to burn off a fraction of the tension coursing through her body, Alessandra tried to continue with whatever rationality she could muster. But she could feel the moon coming, and it was a struggle.


"When it bit me, I lost everything. The only way to get home," that she knew of, "is through a fairy circle. Werewolves can't use them. I'm stranded here." She breathed out a tense sigh and forced her tightly-wound shoulders to shrug. "Where people are coming from far and wide to watch me tortured to death… because I was bitten."


Hawkins: “If I can do anything to help ye, lass, name it now. I give me word as a sailor, I’ll see it done.”


His final offer struck home to her, and softened her posture a touch. She couldn't think of anything to ask. He had given her so much, just to listen.


"Tell me your name," Alessandra implored. She returned to the bars separating them - while they were housed one empty cell apart, even in the dark, she could make out the shape of his face. Taking a risk, she reached a hand through the bars, as far as she could. Her bicep was pinched uncomfortably, but she still extended her arm further, fingers reaching out to him. "I'm Alessandra, now. Once upon a time, my name was Jennifer."


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--
Benjamin Warner

turksgirl
 

Who: Manfred

With: Alessandra, Hawkins

Where: The King’s Castle - Dungeon

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Alessandra: *Woe is me, screw that wolf guy!*

"Tell me your name," Alessandra implored. She returned to the bars separating them - while they were housed one empty cell apart, even in the dark, she could make out the shape of his face. Taking a risk, she reached a hand through the bars, as far as she could. Her bicep was pinched uncomfortably, but she still extended her arm further, fingers reaching out to him. "I'm Alessandra, now. Once upon a time, my name was Jennifer."


Hawkins: *Yow, mama!*

“That really is a shame…” Hawkins couldn’t believe what he was hearing. To be told that not only is your life forever going to be different, but that you can never go home and never see your family again. That would hurt more than anything in the world. He let his head droop a little, not wanting to show weakness, but unable to completely hide his emotions. “Lass, I’ve gone through many painful things in me life, but nothing quite like that…”


Hawkins took a moment and looked up again, his face hardening into a grimace. “Should I ever get the chance, I’ll make sure that wolf pays for ‘is crimes. No one should have to endure what ye have.”


Hawkins was surprised by her request. Nobody wanted to know an old seadog like him. He’d been in the background for years, never truly belonging anywhere, and here she was, asking his name like they could be friends. And what was wrong with that? Nothing wrong with making a friend before they each met their fate.


Hawkins attempted to reach through the bars as well. He winced as the bars squeezed his arm, but he pushed through it until he could reach the outstretched hand. “Hawkins is me name. Hawkins Atwater, at your service lass.”

________________________________________________________________________________

 

“This is all very touching, but could the pair of you keep it down?” a low baritone voice asked from the darkest shadows. The wolf could pick up the scent of… apparently the stables... the softest sound of leather and cloth, as the owner moved slowly into the glow of one of the torches in the dungeon. A young, rangy man in dark clothes with a hooded cloak.

His mouth curled slightly into a smirk, green eyes peering out from the depth of the hood full of the promise of mischief. “And perhaps I can relieve you from losing your heads” he said coming just close enough to eye their locks but not to be touched.

Tags

(Manny has arrived at last)


 

Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “Hawkins is me name. Hawkins Atwater, at your service lass.”


"Hawkins Atwater," Alessandra repeated with a grateful nod. It felt good, at least, to connect to one more human being before the end...


Manfred: “This is all very touching, but could the pair of you keep it down?”


The addition of a new voice shocked Alessandra, and she retreated back into her cell after just a few precious seconds of touching Hawkins' hand. The young man that stepped into the dim light, though, was on the row of cells adjacent to them. He might have been Jeremy's age.


His initial words drew from her a wry laugh, raw against a throat strained from sobbing and all to close to shifting. "Oh sorry to disturb you. Did you come here to meditate?" Because she had come here to die.


Manfred: “And perhaps I can relieve you from losing your heads.”


The turn of phrase correspondingly turned Alessandra's stomach. Would she lose her head? She didn't know because being drawn and quartered or disemboweled were just as likely. Hawkins would lose a hand if they found him to be a thief, but hanged if they found him a pirate.  But morbid wonderings aside, she understood what the young farmer implied. Or, she assumed he was a farmer because he smelled like hay and grass. He offered a sliver of hope… but Alessandra couldn't grasp it. She didn't know if her mind was weighing logistical practicalities, judging the simpleness of the young man himself, or just refusing to backpedal on her progress through the stages of grief, but the idea of escape was flatly rejected.


"You're crazy."


Tags (welcome Manny! :D )

 

Ben
 

Hawkins’ head turned quickly, identifying the source of the new voice. The young man walking forward seemed to both fit and be out of place at the same time. He seemed to stick to the shadows more than the light, and it was difficult to make out any facial features under his hood.


Hawkins was close to affirming Alessandra’s sentiments for the man to shove off, when he spoke again. “And how would ye do that? Have ye the keys? Or maybe ye have some magic we aren’t aware of.” Hawkins had all but given up on getting out of his cell, so while this man may prove to be a new opportunity, it was just as likely that he was bluffing. Though he certainly hoped it was the former.


Hawkins looked back to Alessandra. She seemed almost nervous at what this man said. Did she know him? Or was it his reference to their pending punishments? Either way, he didn’t like how anxious she seemed to be. It was still the night of the full moon and there was no telling what could set her off.

“Well then? What have ye to help us?”


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On Sun, Sep 2, 2018 at 6:12 PM Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “Hawkins is me name. Hawkins Atwater, at your service lass.”


"Hawkins Atwater," Alessandra repeated with a grateful nod. It felt good, at least, to connect to one more human being before the end...


Manfred: “This is all very touching, but could the pair of you keep it down?”


The addition of a new voice shocked Alessandra, and she retreated back into her cell after just a few precious seconds of touching Hawkins' hand. The young man that stepped into the dim light, though, was on the row of cells adjacent to them. He might have been Jeremy's age.


His initial words drew from her a wry laugh, raw against a throat strained from sobbing and all to close to shifting. "Oh sorry to disturb you. Did you come here to meditate?" Because she had come here to die.


Manfred: “And perhaps I can relieve you from losing your heads.”


The turn of phrase correspondingly turned Alessandra's stomach. Would she lose her head? She didn't know because being drawn and quartered or disemboweled were just as likely. Hawkins would lose a hand if they found him to be a thief, but hanged if they found him a pirate.  But morbid wonderings aside, she understood what the young farmer implied. Or, she assumed he was a farmer because he smelled like hay and grass. He offered a sliver of hope… but Alessandra couldn't grasp it. She didn't know if her mind was weighing logistical practicalities, judging the simpleness of the young man himself, or just refusing to backpedal on her progress through the stages of grief, but the idea of escape was flatly rejected.


"You're crazy."


Tags (welcome Manny! :D )

 



--
Benjamin Warner

turksgirl
 

Alessandra : "Oh sorry to disturb you. Did you come here to meditate?" Because she had come here to die"You're crazy."

Hawkins : “And how would ye do that? Have ye the keys? Or maybe ye have some magic we aren’t aware of.” Hawkins had all but given up on getting out of his cell, so while this man may prove to be a new opportunity, it was just as likely that he was bluffing. Though he certainly hoped it was the former. “Well then? What have ye to help us?”

Manfred had been called many things, crazy was hardly the worse of them. Their skepticism wasn't unexpected because he would be the same way if their positions were switched. No one helped a stranger these days, much less a friend, without wanting something.... And honestly he had come with more thoughts to himself than any prisoner held in the castle. But he had heard some of their conversation....It didn't change his original plans.

"No magic, no keys" he replied with a wily smile that usually came with youth and confidence. Peering around the young man moved closer to look at the lock of the cell door, warily watching Hawkins. He avoided going anywhere near Alessandra's cell, she made him skittish and nervous... kicked in his flight instincts. It must be because she was a werewolf, he had known even before she had told her tale.

Besides the royal babe, the whole city was talking about the execution of a werewolf marauder by the Green Duke himself. Manny wondered why they would wait until the full moon was practically on their laps, and to have the birth festivities the same time. It all seemed rather foolish and reckless, but it made things easier for his nimble fingers.

"Just talent and skill my seafaring gentleman..." Manny said producing what was clearly a lock pick from his cape. "...Releasing you will be easy, but you dear lady..." He gestured to the much larger and intricate lock of her cell, "...they clearly wanted to keep here. How much time would I have if I could get that open?" Pulling his hood back slightly, green eyes stared at her. "Before you try and eat me or something...do you give crazy people a head start?"

tags



Rachel Balla
 

Hawkins: “And how would ye do that? Have ye the keys? Or maybe ye have some magic we aren’t aware of.” “Well then? What have ye to help us?”


Manny: "No magic, no keys" "Just talent and skill my seafaring gentleman..." "...Releasing you will be easy, but you dear lady..." "...they clearly wanted to keep here. How much time would I have if I could get that open?" "Before you try and eat me or something...do you give crazy people a head start?"


Alessandra knew - deep down - that she needed to refuse. She would turn soon. She would kill anyone she could get her teeth into. Innocent people, and not just the nobles at the fancy party upstairs. Rumors were that the dungeon could be flooded in an emergency, and that could kill all these prisoners - common thieves, debtors, and the like. They didn't deserve that. And then, ultimately, the royal guard would put her down like a sick dog.


Alessandra did not want to kill anyone. But, at the same time, dying in action when she was so out of her mind with the moon that she couldn't feel pain anymore… it was better. And she was afraid enough of the promised execution to agree. It was cowardly, sure, but - her thoughts unknowingly echoing Manfred's - the only favor she owed to Eventyr was to Marcus, who'd given her borrowed time to live on. Other than that, it was every man for himself.


The nod that she returned was comprised of tight, short little movements because her neck was too tense to allow any more mobility. "A head start," she promised. If he could actually get her out of here, she would do her damnedest to make sure she didn't kill him. She could barely make his face out in the dim light, but he reminded her of Jeremy - young, cocky, maybe a little too smart for his own good. "I don't know how long until the change. If I had to guess I would say…" Ten minutes. "Twenty minutes."


Tags

 

Ben
 

Hawkins made note of how wary the young man seemed to be. Perhaps he was aware of who his company was. A werewolf and a supposed pirate. He also made note of how easy it would be to reach through the bars and grab the young man by the throat, should anything go wrong. Perhaps that was the reason he was being given the particular look on the young man’s face.


“Talent and skill ye say? Well should yer talent pay off, maybe ye can teach me later.” He watched the young man work for a moment, paying mind to what he was saying. He was right, of course. Alessandra’s cell looked much more difficult to open. And with good reason. Nobody wanted a werewolf running loose. Not even the werewolf herself, it would seem.


And again he was right. A head start could make a world of difference in their situation. The difference between life and death if they weren’t careful. Hawkins turned his attention back to Alessandra to see what her answer would be. And years spent with sailors told him that she was stretching the truth a bit. “Better speed things up, just to be safe.”


“Lass, when we get out of here, I’m makin’ for the coast. Should ye ever have need of me, look for me their first. Same to ye, lad. I owe ye me life, if ye get us out of here.”


Hawkins stood up and grabbed a hold of the bars, flexing every muscle he could in preparation for the fight and flight to come. He needed to be prepared, lest he be struck down before he made it out of the castle proper. He had been given his chance, and he was going to take it with both hands.


Tags!



On Mon, Sep 10, 2018 at 1:33 PM Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Hawkins: “And how would ye do that? Have ye the keys? Or maybe ye have some magic we aren’t aware of.” “Well then? What have ye to help us?”


Manny: "No magic, no keys" "Just talent and skill my seafaring gentleman..." "...Releasing you will be easy, but you dear lady..." "...they clearly wanted to keep here. How much time would I have if I could get that open?" "Before you try and eat me or something...do you give crazy people a head start?"


Alessandra knew - deep down - that she needed to refuse. She would turn soon. She would kill anyone she could get her teeth into. Innocent people, and not just the nobles at the fancy party upstairs. Rumors were that the dungeon could be flooded in an emergency, and that could kill all these prisoners - common thieves, debtors, and the like. They didn't deserve that. And then, ultimately, the royal guard would put her down like a sick dog.


Alessandra did not want to kill anyone. But, at the same time, dying in action when she was so out of her mind with the moon that she couldn't feel pain anymore… it was better. And she was afraid enough of the promised execution to agree. It was cowardly, sure, but - her thoughts unknowingly echoing Manfred's - the only favor she owed to Eventyr was to Marcus, who'd given her borrowed time to live on. Other than that, it was every man for himself.


The nod that she returned was comprised of tight, short little movements because her neck was too tense to allow any more mobility. "A head start," she promised. If he could actually get her out of here, she would do her damnedest to make sure she didn't kill him. She could barely make his face out in the dim light, but he reminded her of Jeremy - young, cocky, maybe a little too smart for his own good. "I don't know how long until the change. If I had to guess I would say…" Ten minutes. "Twenty minutes."


Tags

 



--
Benjamin Warner

turksgirl
 

Hawkins : “Talent and skill ye say? Well should yer talent pay off, maybe ye can teach me later.”

Manfred wanted to laugh at that, his mother would be angrier than a cut snake if he gave away her old trade secrets. And no one wanted to piss off his mother, she make the royal guard look like a bunch of bumbling school boys. His slim fingers pulled a pair of hand wrought metal tools from his belt. which the young man set about to bypass the tumblers of the lock.

Alessandra: "A head start," "I don't know how long until the change. If I had to guess I would say…" "Twenty minutes."

Hawkins: “Better speed things up, just to be safe.” “Lass, when we get out of here, I’m makin’ for the coast. Should ye ever have need of me, look for me their first. Same to ye, lad. I owe ye me life, if ye get us out of here.”

Manny looked up at the bearded man with a mildly surprised expression. No one had ever offered him anything freely, even when he was doing a good deed. The lock made a popping sound and he pulled the door open easily, before biting his lower lip to look over Alessandra's door again.

Maybe he should go while the getting was good, he was ahead of the game why ruin it for a stranger? The so-called pirate should be distraction enough... "Keep a look out" Manfred said sounding confident as he poked a lock pick carefully into the complex lock.

"Remember... head start...." Manny said as he began to think maybe the werewolf's cell was beyond his skills. His mother would have his hide for such a defeatist attitude. Oh he did so love a challenge, one of these days it would be his downfall.

But not today, he grinned as the lock clicked open...... right before the low rumble of water. "Well, shit".

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