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 Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 6:17 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 6:18 pm
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Routine – predictability – was a troll’s greatest enemy. Tonight it was Aandes’. He made his way back to his hive, weary-eyed behind his helmet after a long day of production planning. The Queen’s theatrical project was taking a bite out of him. His schedule had never been so strict, nights never planned so diligently and the lack of networking, socializing and recuperating was beginning to drain the greenblood. As far as he was concerned, the sooner the production got on the road, the better. No one amongst Regina’s staff could be trusted, after all. That was the most certain shadow over his job.
It was also why he always left with plenty of evening to spare. Coming in as the sun was setting had become part of his schedule so that he could at least accommodate some wind-down time and reduce his interaction with some of the “goons” at the workplace. A nice hot shower in the ablution block was the best way to assuage his mounting paranoia. It was what he relied on to get him home now, and fortunately after what seemed like hours he was able to spot the small lawn ring in front of his hive.
Aandes noted that the door was unlocked – likely his lusus, shacked up for the night – and made his way inside. The cool darkness of his nutrition block enveloped him. He sighed, half due to relief, and set a soda on the counter before realizing the tingling, unpleasant sensation of the sweat clinging to his skin. Time for a shower. He disappeared up the stairs, limbs dragging.
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 6:24 am
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Alone in the darkness, Kursha listened and waited, the cool metal of the rifle barrel resting against his cheek. Aside from the gentle hum of the hive all was quiet. He might have been bored had the circumstances been any different, but determination had bred a patience in him. Even in the company of doubt, he remained focussed—vigilant. All it took was an emotional disconnect, one small, figurative cut in the space of his thinkpan, and his sense of self and his dedication to his objective had become two separate entities. Time passed without a semblance of thought. He adopted waiting, not as a trial, but a state of being.
Lately it seemed like he had been doing more and more of that.
Down below, Kursha heard a click, followed by a jingle. The sounds of the outside world—the wind, the street noise, the crickets, distant voices—rushed in, broken by the gentle padding of footsteps. Then there was another click, and the quiet returned. He knew he was no longer alone though.
Kursha rose to his feet, dislodging the rifle from his shoulder. The safety remained on, the chamber empty. Even so a dozen rounds waited in his breast pocket should he need them. An unnecessary precaution, like the mask over his face. Silent, he crept over to the top of the stairs. He only just caught a glimpse of a figure as it disappeared across the other side of the hall. Kursha let out a slow exhale of breath. One figure. Same as usual. He ducked back out of sight and leaned against the wall.
Seconds ticked past, maybe minutes, before he heard the sound of feet on the stairs. He adjusted his grip on the rifle. His fingers clenched around the barrel. One step. Then another. Kursha counted them. He visualised the figure’s ascent, the place where they would finally emerge. He could not miss. He would not miss. He knew that without a shadow of doubt.
A shock of green hair appeared. The troll had his back to him, unaware. Kursha raised the rifle. He had but a moment to act. In the moment before though, time seemed curiously still. He felt for the first time, albeit distantly, doubt. Where it came from he could not identify. It was not like him to hesitate. Shoot first, ask questions later: that was the rule he lived by all his life. That was the only way to live without regrets.
The rifle felt warm in his hands. The moment before was almost up. Time had begun to move once again…
… He had been waiting for far too long.
He dealt a killing stroke to the last thoughts in his head. Then he swung the butt of the rifle towards Aandes’. |
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 12:58 pm
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Posted: Tue Sep 27, 2016 5:20 pm
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Even in the dark, the interior of the hive would have been familiar to Aandes. Nestled in the woods away from the road, spacious, and most importantly abandoned, Rasali's former home set the perfect stage. No one would think to question the unsettling sounds that came from within the forest, and the one person who might have been suspicious, or at very least might have cared, already had a front row seat. No one would be interrupting who was not meant to.
Aandes lay on the floor of the hive, hands and feet bound with wire. The former were tied behind his back, tight enough to draw blood. He faced the front of the hive, positioned on his side so that he could see the front door and the window. The outside world remained off limits however. The blinds had been drawn to block the the view and keep the room dark. A slender beam of moonlight from above the window sill served as the respiteblock's only illumination.
Curiously, Aandes had not been gagged.
Footsteps approached. A pair of sandalled feet came into view. They paused then swivelled towards Aandes. “Oh, hey!” Kursha crouched down several feet from the captive greenblood. “You're up. Have a nice nap?” He grinned. He had discarded the mask, though his horns were still black from paint. His rifle hung strapped over his back. His fingers were dark with gunpowder. He clapped them together to dust them off.
“Sorry about the floor. Seemed kind of pointless to try and tie you to a beanbag. Anyway, I just finished setting up, so try and get comfortable. We're in for the long haul.” Kursha straightened. Removing his rifle, he leaned it against the wall, and prowled over to the window. He peeled back the blinds and peered outside.
Though he presented his usual laidback exterior, he felt positively giddy. All his nerves seemed to be on fire. Some of that showed. For all he tried, he could not disguise the jittery bounce to his step. Whether it was excitement or terror though he could not be sure. He scanned the road leading out into the street. It remained empty. It was still too early.
He had nothing to worry about, Kursha reminded himself. He had planned for this. If Rasali tried to ambush him through the back, she would find a nasty surprise waiting. Nothing too terrible, of course. After all, he did not want to kill her. Not yet anyways.
He turned back to Aandes. “Oh, and no screaming for help or anything. I thought about gagging you, but I figure you’re smart enough not to make a fuss. Right?” The corners of his mouth turned sharp.
- - -
Back at Aande's hive, a note with meticulously neat handwriting rested on the floor of the entryway. It read:
You Have Some[+]hing [+]ha[+] Belongs [+]o Me. Le[+]'s [+]rade. Your Hive. |
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Posted: Tue Sep 27, 2016 11:33 pm
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Aandes didn’t recognize Rasali’s hive before he saw it. The smell was old and musty – more quaint than off-putting considering the simple rustic nature of Rasali’s hive. Not to mention the faint iron taste of blood and the pounding of his head that marred his senses. When his eyelids cracked open, he took in the smooth floor, the shaded windows and the time-locked hive. It had not yet been razed to the ground, but after this memory Aandes wouldn’t mind it. He jerked, suddenly quite awake, and hissed in pain upon the jolting realization that his wrists were tightly restricted. Thin, cutting wires dug deep into his arms and legs. Pusher racing, he looked up to the cool voice addressing him and balked.
The picture immediately came together. Kursha Vidari, Rasali’s hive… The nightmare scenario. Aandes swallowed thickly. With each passing second of life that he bought, of time that Rasali didn’t swing to his rescue (where was she? Oh gog, were they meeting today? His addled brain could hardly recall), he could come up with something. Anything. His mind began to grind into motion. He breathed heavily through his nostrils and took stock. Other than his head wound and cuts on his wrists and ankles, he was unscathed as of yet. He was unarmed, naturally. Ungagged- ah, yes – Kursha explained his reasoning. And Rasali was on her way. If not now, then however long it took. Aandes did not doubt the tenacity of this young man.
He shifted, testing out his weight before rolling onto his side. It was a position that at least offered a semblance of conversation, rather than face up or down like a corpse. His features were etched in effort and pain, a conscious display of vulnerability.
“Commander… What is this?” Aandes choked out.
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 3:46 am
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“Commander?” Kursha echoed, incredulous. The word tasted bitter in his mouth. It's coming out of your hide, Vidari. Kursha paused. He eyed Aandes, expression searching. Such a title felt like a lifetime ago. Abruptly he let out a bark of laughter.
“No need to be so formal, LaMode.” He took a few steps towards the greenblood and then stopped and dropped into a squat. His wrists rested over his knees. He offered a lazy, insincere smile. “After all, does this really seem like something a commander would do?” Kursha asked, crooning. He paused a half second, eyes locked with Aandes, daring him to answer. The question hung in the air like a guillotine.
“No, this one's all me,” he continued. He waved a hand, nonchalant. “Just me—no strings attached. So quit worrying, and lighten up a little! It's not like you're getting culled or anything.” Beaming, he gave the greenblood a friendly punch in the shoulder. |
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 6:42 pm
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If Rasali had it in herself to feel a positive emotion about anything in that moment, it would have been that the train car she was in was completely empty. It hadn't been that way to start, but after a few minutes in motion, the sparse other passengers decided there were better seats to occupy elsewhere. The rigid greenblood, positioned immobile in her seat was unaware that she'd had anything to do with it. If not for the thick aura of tension, the firearm balanced across her lap would have done the trick.
Rasali had spent half a night riding the train line between the foothills of Busthind and Four Fronds Central Station. The long trek had done little for Rasali's nerves. She was nearly convinced she could run faster than the train was moving.
While Rasali's bloodpusher hammered as though she actually was outpacing the train, the only visible movements of her body were her fingers. They ghosted over the stock and barrel of the rifle with a surprisingly gentle touch. At that moment it was Rasali's most important possession. It left her equal parts sickened and relieved. Had she not kept the damned thing, she may not have brought down Kursha's (******** Kursha's) ire. However, with it, she had some small piece of leverage in this deal with the devil. Kursha would have found some way to bring this all back to her regardless, she reasoned. Rasali didn't want to think about what he would have asked from her if she didn't already have such a symbolic object on hand.
While the weapon brought Rasali an infinitesimal amount of comfort, the note in her pocket burned like acid. After Rasali arrived at Aandes' hive to find the building not only empty, but unlocked, Kursha may as well have left a wet smear of mint green blood instead of the note and achieved the same effect. The only reason Rasali had stopped hyperventilating was because she'd been at risk for passing out. As much as she hated to live through this brightmare, she needed to be alert. She needed to be calm.
She wasn't calm. Steeled face and posture aside, any troll could read killing intent a mile away. No one had commented on her sudden return to Salamire, or her unnaturally even march back to her hive. By the time she left the swamp, rifle in hand, it was likely that Rasali was being actively avoided. It was exactly how she wanted it. Too many people had already paid for associating with Kursha Vidari. This was Rasali's fight. She'd beaten him once before, hadn't she?
It was only that thought that kept Rasali from shedding tears on the cursed rifle in her lap. She may not have been a terribly superstitious troll, but she was beginning to find the amount of misfortune surrounding Kursha to be uncanny. Perhaps--she thought with a shuddering inhale that would have startled anyone left in the car--if curses could be real, so could karma.
She was going to Make Him Pay.
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 7:57 pm
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Aandes winced when Kursha squatted next to him, an automatic reaction. The corner of his lip twitched downward. He looked over his kidnapper’s face nonetheless. Internally analyzing every microexpression that passed the threshold of Kursha’s face. He looked like a loaded spring, dizzy, shivering with tension. His mood could change course (it was impossible to judge a hydra at face-value), but the flecks of history scarred into Vidari’s body told Aandes enough. This vengeance was a long time coming. There was no reasoning with this, no trickery beyond trying to channel the flood.
However, Regina had – supposedly – not endorsed this dalliance. Aandes thanked however many lucky stars he had left while tied up on his kismesis’ floor. If he had any leverage now it was that at least Regina would find his reckless abandon an irritating liability – she didn’t need either of them, but at least the current power balance wasn’t completely stacked against him. Kursha had proven himself not wholly adept in front of her at least twice to his recollection, while Aandes was a curiosity and a clean slate. More interesting, perhaps, a new plaything. Aandes snuffed out a bitter laugh that threatened to bubble up from his throat. His game was instinct and anger. Now was not the time.
“Rasali’s not smart enough to walk away from me. I figure you’ve got me here to twist the knife before killing her – is that it? There’s a lot of better ways to kill someone’s ex, Vidari.” He spat. Aandes appraised his bindings, his mouth curling into a snarl. “If you were planning to get off on our suffering you’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have feelings either way about this sicko revenge fantasy you’ve got going on.”
His gaze cast down to his bindings. “Other than being pissed about you dragging me into this s**t.” A quick stress test of the wires around his wrists was a quick lesson. With a pained hiss, he dropped his arms back onto the ground – head rolling back and eyes dimly flitting between Kursha and the ceiling.
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2016 5:01 am
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As Aandes spoke again, Kursha's eyebrows lifted. The abrupt about face in character stunned him into momentary silence. What he had mistaken for a bootlicking, simpering worm, turned out to be a troll after all. Aandes LaMode had proven himself to have something of a spine despite all outwards appearances; a pleasing, albeit unexpected discovery. Still... just how much of that courage was borne of ignorance rather than backbone?
“Is that so?” Kursha asked, unperturbed. “Well then, that's too bad. I guess I should just call it quits and head on home. Sorry about the bump on your noggin.” Reaching out, Kursha ruffled Aandes' already dishevelled pompadour playfully. Suddenly his grip tightened. He pulled the greenblood up by the hair, sneering.
“Or not. It's a good thing that wasn't a part of my endgame, or I'd really be screwed over, huh?” He held the other troll level to himself, forcing eye contact. As he did searched for a trace of fear in his face. Aandes LaMode was a curious specimen. He had come away from their first meeting unscathed, despite presenting himself as an obstacle. There were not many who could claim such fortune. And yet the greenblood did not seem to appreciate his good luck. Kursha had been too kind.
“Still...” he mused. “There's gotta be something I can do...” Pushing his heels into the ground, Kursha dropped the troll and rose to his feet. Without another word, he turned and went to the wall... the very same wall he had left his rifle leaning against. His fingers curled around the weapon. The metal of the barrel felt icy against his skin.
Kursha turned to face Aandes, rifle in hand. “What do you think?” he asked with savage cheer. He crossed towards the greenblood. “Oh, but wait,” he interjected. “First there’s one thing I should clear up.” He stood over Aandes. A kick landed in the greenblood’s shoulder, and Kursha pushed him onto his back. The rifle turned over in his hands. Then it smashed into Aandes’ right knee.
“I'm an agent of justice,” Kursha drawled over any noise. “And right now, you're just a bargaining chip.” |
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2016 8:52 pm
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Posted: Sat Oct 01, 2016 6:10 am
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“Eh?” Kursha tilted his head and removed his foot from his captive. He had a hard time believing his spongeclots. Swinging the rifle over his shoulder, he stared Aandes down. Tears streaked the greenblood's cheeks, flecks of spit marred his jaw, and his face was drawn with pain. Yet despite all that, Kursha could have sworn he heard him ask for more. He put one hand on his hip.
“Did I hit you too hard?” he asked, smiling. He tapped the side of his head with the rifle. “Or do you have a death wish?”
In the back of his mind, a logical part of his conscious told him to step back and leave the greenblood be. He had a mission. He could not afford to lose sight of that in pursuit of personal satisfaction. But adrenaline was pumping through his veins. It fogged his mind, and distracted him with the exhilaration of power. The invitation to play was almost painful. He could not resist entertaining the idea if only for a moment. After all, no one would see. No one would hear. He had constructed his own playing field, where his will was law. He answered to no one and had nothing to fear. His breath felt thick in his nostrils. The prospect turned from possible to probable. Kursha's thoughts continued wildly.
Unaware that he was trembling, he dropped the rifle from his shoulder. His whole body felt light. “Well, it doesn't matter,” Kursha said at last. He brought his hand over his mouth to hide his smile, more from himself than from Aandes. Aandes had asked for it. He had given Kursha express permission.
“Since you asked so nicely...” he continued. His voice shook with anticipation. He moved to press his foot against Aandes' throat, applying just enough pressure to keep his captive pinned. Both hands on the rifle, he grinned down at the greenblood, overwhelmed by rampant sadism. He raised the rifle once more into the air.
“No take backs.”
- - -
Back to the broken figure slumped against the wall, Kursha methodically cleaned the blood from his knife. Though his sanity had returned, his thoughts remained empty, save for cold analysis. He had managed to maintain enough of a grip on reality to keep from outright killing the greenblood. The damage inflicted was gruesome, but not lethal. Aandes would live.
The flat of the blade flashed as it struck a beam of moonlight. In it, for a moment, Kursha caught sight of his reflection. He turned the blade so it captured his face once more. Dead eyes stared back at him. A few flecks of mint green stained his jaw. Kursha paused. Gingerly he wiped the blood away. It smeared across his cheek. His gaze hardened. He sheathed the knife and tucked into his back pocket.
Making his way across the room, he picked up his rifle where he had left it on the floor. Blood painted the end of the stock. He had failed to notice it earlier. Scowling, Kursha clicked his tongue in annoyance. He rubbed at the offensive colour with his thumb. It only chipped and flaked under his nail. With a sigh, he left it alone. He would only have another mess to clean later anyway. Withdrawing a handful of rounds, he loaded six into the chamber, and pocketed the rest. Then without so much as a glance at Aandes, Kursha turned made his way to the opposite side of the room.
Leaning the rifle against his shoulder, he slid down the wall and pulled his knees in towards his chest. In the silence he found a kind of solace. Exhaustion overtook him. There would be no sleep, but he could doze. His eyes closed. He waited. |
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Posted: Sat Oct 01, 2016 11:13 am
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Posted: Sat Oct 01, 2016 12:53 pm
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The air outside the Four Fronds train station was damp with a chilly edge to it. A thick coating of fog and dew would surely have built up by the time morning came around. Rasali didn't want this "errand" to take that long. The chains harnessed to her hip clinked ominously with her steps, warning her this likely wouldn't be the case. Her fear caught her somewhere in the middle between rushing down the familiar trail and hesitating at the fork in the road. Her walk was brisk and deceptively even. She didn't want to be exhausted by the time she made it home. (The word home made Rasali wince visibly.) In actuality, Rasali was scared to see what was waiting for her at the end of the road.
The dirt path thinned as it devolved from a common road to one traveled almost exclusively by a much younger Rasali. The passage of time had left it barely more than a deer trail through the bushes. Brambles scraped Rasali's ankles and she wondered how Kursha even found this place.
She could always ask. The thought resonated with dull sarcasm in the back of Rasali's mind. It was a defensive maneuver as she was struck with the first sight of her hive in perigees. Her breath caught. It was no harder to look at than the first time she'd seen the ruins. The childhood home she'd made herself was never an impressive building. It was little more than a box made out of sliding panels. Now it was barely that. It was partially caved-in, and Rasali knew the back wall of the hive was missing almost in its entirety. What was left was charred black and gray, and even green in places where the moss and ferns of the forest had started to take hold.
The eeriest part was the silence. If Rasali didn't know better, she'd have thought the hive vacant and as abandoned as it was any night of the sweep. Something was waiting for her on the other side of that door. Rasali didn't know what it would be, but she knew she wouldn't like it.
Softly, Rasali stepped up onto the low, wraparound porch. The creaking of old wood was physically painful, but it wasn't as though her presence was unexpected. If she'd had Kursha's paranoia pegged accurately, he'd probably already heard her coming through the bushes.
Rasali's grip on the rifle flexed. Her hands loosened, then tightened with twice the force from before. In one swift motion, she used the end of the barrel to slide open the door. Moonlight and her own silhouette splashed across the interior.
"Kursha..."
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Posted: Sun Oct 02, 2016 2:55 am
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A disturbance outside roused Kursha from his repose. He lifted his head, senses stirring. As he opened his eyes, his gaze went to Aandes, across the hive. The greenblood lay exactly where he had left him. Nothing had changed. The hive remained empty, quiet. Suddenly Kursha saw the flicker of a shadow through the window. A moment later a low creak followed. He got to his feet.
Leaving his rifle leaning against the wall, Kursha raised his arms over his head in a stretch. His back arched, and a pop came from between his shoulders. Satisfied, he stretched his arms out in front of him and knocked his head to the side. At that moment, the front door slid open with a bang. A familiar, bulky silhouette blocked out the moonlight. Kursha glanced up, unperturbed.
“Hey Razz,” he called. He leaned his head towards his other shoulder. Another pop. He squinched his eyes shut. “Glad you could make it. I was beginning to think you were a no-show.” The last traces of stiffness erased, Kursha lowered his arms. He rested one hand on the muzzle of the rifle and grinned over at Rasali.
“So, how’ve you been? It’s been a while.” |
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