shelley_winters | (no subject)

It is raining in earnest by now as Shelley runs through the darkened garden, heedlessly through bushes and stands of trees made menacing by the dark and the cold wind whipping the branches through the air. She can't remember the exact point the orderly and quiet garden become the outskirts of the forest surrounding the estate, but all she cares is that he isn't following.

It's cold, and she eventually stumbles to a halt, heart beating almost painfully from running so hard, and looks about, disoriented. Her wet hair sticks to her cheeks as she frowns through the treetrunks. Attempting to shelter beneath one fails to protect her from the wet, and the girl shivers as she tries to figure out where exactly she is.

She has to go back some time, only he can get her back to the bar. Assuming he doesn't decide to take his chances with people coming to find her...

No. No, he can't.

The girls swallows, trying to stop her teeth from chattering, and turns around to look for which direction she came from. Was it-?

A low growling sound makes her freeze still, suddenly aware that through the scent of the rain on leaves, she can smell sulphur.

(I will have to ask you not to leave the house or gardens until I instruct the Darkhounds not to tear you to pieces on sight)

Hands shaking, she wheels frantically, hands scrabbling on the wet ground for something she can - anything. A large stick is inadequate, but she hefts it in any case, trying to quiet her frightened breathing as she shrinks back against the treetrunk in hopes that they won't see her.

Little hope. Three of them advance through the trees, growling loud above the rush of the rain, and teeth bared. Shelley glances desperately from one to the other of the huge creatures, before reaching for a rock and flinging it hard at the nearest. It hits, more by luck than anything else, but the huge body simply yields to it, then reforms, Darkhound not even pausing.

Terrified, and trapped by their advance and the tree behind her, she grits her teeth and waits.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A blinding flash.

A burned expanse of ground stood where the Darkhounds did once. A thick steam hung in the air from the vaporized rain. The hiss of the rain among the cloud. The smell of ozone permeated the woods.

Out of the Darkness, Ishamael stood with his dark hair clinging to his face and his hand outstretched. His black robe was plastered to his body by rain.

For a stupefied moment, Shelley thinks it must be lightning, until the afterburn of the flash fades from her vision and she sees the blasted ground and smells the thick vapour.

The girl shudders as she lets go of the breath she had unconsciously been holding, letting the stick drop from her hands and pressing them to her face. Alive. She's still alive.

Ishamael's hand slowly fell, and he walked forward towards her. A low, soothing tone to his voice as he stood in front of her in the pouring rain.

"Do not worry. You are safe."

Shelley swallows, shivering from the wet and reaction to the fading adrenaline. Her soaking hair clings to her neck as she nods shakily.

"...Didn't know. I didn't know I was- so far out."

A few more steps, and he placed his hands on gently on her shoulders as if to support her. A kind, supporting tone in his voice.

"No, no, you could not have known. It is all right. Nothing unfortunate happened."

Another shaky breath, and she nods. She will not break down, especially not with him here. No.

"R-right. It's fine."

One of his hands lingered on her wet hair for a moment. The cuts on his face were easily apparent this close. His small smile on his face.

"You had quite a start. Not many people can stare down Darkhounds like you did. They are very fearsome creatures..."

A pause, and a very worried tone in his voice.

"You did not get any of their saliva on your skin, did you?"

She blinks, and swallows. Not as if she had much choice - turning her back on one of those wasn't an option.

"I- I don't know. It's raining, I can't tell."

A flicker of worry across his face as he glanced at her exposed skin. His voice commented quickly and with no small amount of worry.

"It is a fatal poison..."

She glances down herself, eyes running nervously over her arms and the holes in her t-shirt torn by thorns and branches.

"I- I have no idea..."

She would already be feeling it if she had, but that should not let the opportunity go to waste. An uneasy glance at her.

"It would show up as a red mark on the skin..."

The girl shivers again as she continues to look, more from the icy cold than anything else. Her hand passes over an area on her stomach, then hesitates. It feels... warm, in contrast to everywhere else. Gingerly, she pulls the soaking fabric up, revealing a darker patch on her pale skin.

Ishamael's face is grim, though he certainly appreciates the glimpse. His voice is very still and quiet.

"...That is not good at all."

Her expression is brittle. What a way to go, after everything. She stands very still, shoulders hunched as she makes herself look at the mark and not... touch it.

"Can anything help?"

A long sigh as he glanced up at her. His expression was soft and quiet. There was something very beautiful about her at this moment. He brushed the soaked hair out of his vision.

"I should be able to extract the poison."

Shelley exhales slightly, and nods, relief making her shaky. It's hard not to think about it's likelihood when she's with him, but really truly believing she is about to die is different, much more acute.

She doesn't want to die.

Ishamael knelt down in front of her. His voice was quiet and calm as he looked up at her.

"Try to relax. It might feel a bit strange."

Gently, he laid his hand over the mark on her skin. His hand was warm against her cool, wet flesh. It was almost impossible to repress the smile as he touched her.

"Ready?"

"Yes," she says as he places his hand over the mark, not really knowing what to expect. It might hurt - punishment for fighting him earlier? Or it might just feel strange. She grits her teeth against either, feeling the solid wet treetrunk behind her. That will stop her if she overbalances.

Shelley shuts her eyes and tries not to shake too hard.

A simple weave is all it takes to remove the small red mark and feeling of warmness that he had placed earlier. A few other weaves soaked into her body for a moment.

His hand lingers for a moment on her stomach as he stands, but reaching out he puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

The warmth of Healing floods her for a few moments from the hand on her stomach, and her perceptions waver slightly alarmingly. Her head falls back against the tree, and she concentrates on breathing through the strange sensations for a moment before the weird hot-and-cold feeling of the chill rain on hot skin evens out, and she can lift her slightly foggy head again.

The hand on her shoulder arrives just in time to stop her falling when she tries to leave the support of the tree.

A loose, supportive embrace wrapped around her body as Ishamael leaned his head near hers. His voice was soothing and calm.

"You are going to be fine..."

She really does not want to be leaning on him, but while she is uncertain if she will remain upright if she lets go, Shelley puts that on hold. Her head... really did feel odd for a minute there.

"...Thank you."

A strategic retreat was best, on occasion, and Ishamael disentangles himself from the embrace, but leaves an arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

"You are welcome."

A pause as he glanced around the rainy woods. It was dark and raining. It was best to get inside.

"Let us get you inside and warmed-up."

She nods again, feeling the cold once more now the heat of Healing has worn off. Even her jeans - used to English weather, resistant to years of damp weather - are now soaked through.

"Okay."