Hunting for [{T}ruth]less (Chase/Chaos)

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Meeka
Merchant

[M:-500]

218 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jul 2, 2017 15:17:26 GMT -5

Wer will schon das Ende wissen.

Hunting for [{T}ruth]less (Chase/Chaos) Dec 10, 2010 15:02:50 GMT -5

Post by Meeka on Dec 10, 2010 15:02:50 GMT -5

Kaya Lentach

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♥ ♥ ♥

Thoughts of you
My hand clenched white

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My breath comes as a thin wisp of translucent smoke, the cluster breaking up and ascending into the frigid night air. The sky seems very much like a velvet sheet, adorned with the many brilliant stars that are scattered across it. The pale, almost-round moon bears down on me, lighting the snowy ground and unfortunately not masking me from my prey. My polished, cherry bow, my prized possession, feels cold as unrelenting marble in my hands, fingers clenched tightly around it.

The quiver carrying my arrows is pulled loosely across my shoulder blade as I crouch low, detecting a sound that for once is not the crunching of the snow beneath my boots. Despite being an obvious give away, the sound proved it rather difficult for me to hear any approaching animals. In a heightened sense of awareness, I catch sight of a larger animal, skirting off into the undergrowth. Nimbly, I produce an arrow, resting it against the taut string. Released, the arrow whips through the air, emitting a sharp whistling. I groan when it hits something with a dull sound, clearly not boring through any fur and cartilage.

I wince, pulling myself up from my crouched and rather uncomfortable position. Frowning, I spot my red arrowhead, the silver top clearly protruding from the thick bark of a tree it has lodged itself in. Disappointed, I stalk over to the wayward arrow and pull it out. I have not been hunting for a while, having been slightly preoccupied with Flight and with Trig. But now, I feel the adrenaline of the hunt, the pure freedom of it all - the very reason I have always enjoyed the company of the woods - coursing through me. With no worries apart from the arrow not hitting its designated target, I don't think that I've felt lighter at heart in ages.

I remember distant, and yet so very familiar, childhood memories of these woods. Especially the times I would spend with Flight, back when she had still been Tammy and the entire world had seemed so much easier and so much fairer. It's the last winter I had with Flight, before we were seperated.

- - -

"Tammy! Wait up!" I'm frustrated, I told her before that I don't like to run in the snow. This year, the amount of snow has been growing
at an alarming rate and the snow almost reaches past my thighs. I frown, pouting as she stops a few meters away. There's a grin on her lips as she surveys me, one eyebrow raised over a yellow eye so that I can practically feel the laughter she is containing. I cross my arms over my chest, frowing her the deadliest look I can muster. I've perfected that look of doom a number of times and it appears naturally whenever I am irritated at her.

"You're going too fast and the snow is getting inside my boots!" My voice borders on a pitious whine. She sighs as if I am just that much of a nuisance to keep around and walks closer. Satisfied, I smile and finally budge, shaking my wild locks behind my ears, a triumphant look blazing in my eyes. Tammy keeps pace with me and I still see an amused twitch of her lips before she finally says, "is it my fault that the snow is taller than you this year?" Her teasing jab at my height is what earns her a snowball to the face. I have only a split second in which to laugh at her perplexed expression before I receive a facefull of snow, icicles slipping beneath my jacket. "Take it back!" I shout, laughing as I tackle her forcefully into the snow. "Never!" she says, laughing sardonically even as I stuff a handful of snow down her jacket.

We wrestle until we're out of breath, and I give in first, calling a truce when my fingers have gone completely numb, the skin splitting in the dry cold. At least the snow in my boots is the least of my worries now. "Slow hunting day, hm, Kaya?" I grin, realising that my family expected me to go hunting and return with food. "Only because the game saw your ugly face and ran away screaming," I retort jokingly, which earns me another snowball to the shoulder. My family has taken a strong disliking to Tammy, so I can't use her as an excuse. My mother always says something about Tammy being a bad influence, while my father persists that she is "poison to the family."

- - -

The harsh wind seems almost tame, even though my cheeks have turned rosy from the cold. The snow appears to be glistening and I find it all frightfully beautiful. But there is a nagging thought in the very back of my mind, a small voice that reminds me that even the wonder of this wood is misleading. The faint footsteps, very unlike that of a stealthy animal, alert me to an alien presence. I whirl around at the noise.

♥ ♥ ♥

wishing you well

Last Edit: Dec 10, 2010 15:04:40 GMT -5 by Meeka

darling, dearest, dead.
...

chaseee
Career Tribute

[M:-2610]

552 POSTS
last seen Dec 2, 2013 20:53:00 GMT -5

kiss me hard before you go

Hunting for [{T}ruth]less (Chase/Chaos) Dec 23, 2010 18:58:14 GMT -5

Post by chaseee on Dec 23, 2010 18:58:14 GMT -5

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[ooc-tryin' 2nd person, here. don't get mad if it epicly fails xD]

There's a feel of disturbance in the woods to day, the trees to quiet, the animals to weary. It isn't the first time you've noticed, either. Thinking back, the memory of your father's death sticks out. The bear rabid bear roaring through the clearing, the way it foamed at the mouth, the way you had felt so enraged when it had tried its hand at stealing your game. With poor aim and a cheap arrow, you had missed vital organs by a long shot, only maddening the animal more, and still you had gone at it, against your father's wishes. When attacking, he had thrown himself in front of you, bringing upon himself a death so grusome, so bloody, it nauseated you to remember. It was only moments after your father had died that you managed to distract the beast, long enough to send a stray arrow plunging into its cold heart.

And then there had been Flight.

The girl who had come across as a theif, at first, had proven herself a worthy opponent more times over than any one you had ever gone toe-to-toe with, and she had payed the dear price. An arrow to the eye. And, though you had been sure that would have done the girl in, she had proven her tough demeanor even still when she had gotten up, and placed a careful kiss on your own lips. Little did you know at the time, you were thrown into a dark web of hurt and betrayel, you only a mere fly, Flight gaining the role of the deadly spider.

Meeting number two had been even more surprising. Running into each other by chance, both of you had been shocked at first, though quickly recovering. You remember idly of your cold attitude toward her at first, before your emotions had gotten hold of you, and you had broke down right before her eyes, complaining of an aching heart and hazy confusion. Mixed emotions toward Flight. How she had so ruthlessly taken the prized necklace from your father's neck, how she had been so intent on killing you when the chance arose. And then, everything went blank. Well, not completely blank of course, but you could never grasp the reason why you had done what you had. And, though it was only a fling, the moment of closeness you had shared with Flight DeRicasho had been the best of your life. Against your own will, you had fallen madly in love.

So, here you were, traveling blindly through the woods, relying only on the directions of a store clerk to guide you to the woman you showed deepest affection. Though, looking back on past occurances between you two, you hesitantly wonder if she will even want to see you. The troubles you had faced to reach her, though, surely she would appreciate it?

And, what troubles they were. First, the note. It had broken your heart, writing it, but you knew it would have to be done anyway. Addressed to your mother, signed with your own name, you had gone into detail the reasons you were not returning home. The person you loved would consume all your time, if needed, and you were sure you were not going to see her again, if only for chance encounters. And, though you hated leaving her in the wake of such tragedy, you had moved onwards, not letting this small obstacle stand in your way.

And, two, the location. You had had no idea where Flight lived, and it was only after heavy searching you had finally found someone who did. A woman, about thirty five, manning the counter of the local slaughter house, had pointed down the road, explaining it was a couple miles off, but not very heavy traveling. Nodding your thanks, you had set off for a second time, hoping and praying nothing else would stand in your way.

A light thunk brings you back to your current position, and you start as the arrow comes into veiw, lodged into a tree not far off. Someone... someone hadn't shot at you, had they? No, of course not. And the scampering deer running in the opposite direction proved there was someone else lurking amongst the trees. The question was, friend or foe? Would this stranger be able to give you even more precise directions? Or, would he or she, upon seeing a lonely girl alone in the woods, try their best to hurt or even kill you? You wondered if paranoia was the first sign of madness, but carefully placed those sorts of thoughts aside for another time. This was important, and required your full attention. Hesitantly stepping from the cover of foilage, immediately feeling naked and exposed, you stopped short of the person, a girl, you see. "C-could you direct me to the house of Flight DeRicasho?"

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Last Edit: Dec 27, 2010 16:51:13 GMT -5 by chaseee

Rosetta: Why do you think you have so many friends?
Rosetta: My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!

sadniss everdeen
Retired Staff

1,207 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Mar 14, 2023 11:31:04 GMT -5

nyte: date fossils? is that some kind of fetish?

Hunting for [{T}ruth]less (Chase/Chaos) Jan 1, 2011 0:58:44 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Jan 1, 2011 0:58:44 GMT -5

Flight DeRicasho

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comparisons are easily done
once you've had a taste of perfection

It takes the all of the capacious self-restraint I possess in my sprawled frame not to wake her as I brush a strand of cherry-red hair from her sleeping features. Despite all previous deprecation we've witnessed, we're still here. Hopefully - if not, there's nothing to say I won't make it so - alone soon enough. As soon as Trig is sixteen, I'm booting him out of our flimsy little house that is the first sign I've had of settling down in nineteen years.
She mumbles and leans into my fingers; a slow smile spreads across my lips in return. I've capitulated willingly under her affections, and I find myself wondering how. The old Flight - the one with her sanity in questionable, far away pieces - wouldn't even think of such a thing. In fact, she would scoff at the mere thought of love and continue on in her detrimental fest of dark alleyways and dirty needles. Instead these sheets bind me into a fuzzy little world of perfectionism and close to consciousness revelations that are much sweeter than any concotion I've managed to push into my body.

Unbidden I let a lithe finger trail across the expanse of her torso, travelling downthe valley of her breasts to spread wide over her stomach. Kaya shudders in her sleep and arches slightly to my touch; I smirk wickedly and press the pads of my fingertips into her abdomen. She twitches and her eyelids flutter, so I lever myself on top of her and watch in mild curiousity as incipient thoughts dribble into her mind. Eyelashes spread apart and she blinks, fuzzy world reeling into focus from the ever-present realm of dream. I smile and dip down to capture her lips, pullng back as she finally gathers her wits about her. "Morning, little one." A slight scowl appears on her porcelain features but I smooth it out with my thumb, and her canorous voice marred by sleep grumbles in reply. "Morning all ready?" Green eyes roll to take in the window. "It's cold outside, can't we sleep in?" She whines, not entirely conscious of what she says.

Long have I known the delicacies of inflicting and fixing tragedies with a single touch, and she is far from exempt of this ability. A salacious grin for some time so early in the morning, before a sudden sharp intake of air from the object of my affections. Her chest hitches high before settling low, lower, lower and another, paler hand grasps my tanned one. "Ah, Flight. S-stop it." I smile a secret little smile, and lean in close to her ear. "Do you really mean that?" Kaya's ribs expand again, and she bites her lip in the most adorable fashion. To think that anybody would attempt to rise her as such makes a protective thrill reverbrate down my spine much like a tuning fork. A brilliant red hue spreads over her cheeks. "N-no."

My smile grows with her effulgence. "I thought as much." Suddenly I roll away from her and get up, wincing at the feel of frozen flooring beneath my bare feet. My paramore stares with wide eyes, an unbelievably adorable look of bewilderment upon her face. A silent leer before I pull myself into a pair of ragged jeans that cling in all the right places after much use, coupled with a deer-skin shirt made for me from one of my clients. The thing is the epitome of District Nine, with a V neck dipping down and laces so that it can range from mildly indecent to scandolous.

There is a fleeting glance in the mirror and I flash a grin with rows of large teeth, pleased when my reflection beams back at me. Quickly I stare at my hair that has a wind-swept quality to it, then I glance outside; it's windy anyway. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I wince when my right socket throbs for no apparent reason. Shards of white-hot pain worm their way into my skull, and I have to lean momentarily on the wall to regain my balance. I've been good; the shattered remains of my sanity have given way to the healing I have needed since I was but a young child. I watch myself watch myself in the mirror and it's ironic, because in this soft glow from the sun I can't see all the mistakes I've made. It seems I need the aphotic darkness of the night for them to creep forth. Something bad is going to happen out there today, Flight. Stay here. Safe. My brow creases and I absently rub at my blinded side. It's a paranoid thought that holds no real weight. I'll be fine. There is a scoff, and I can't stop myself from glancing over from where it sounds. The monster watches carefully with nothing but black sockets and rice-paper flesh, torn and twisted into a manifestation of my (in)sanity. What are you trying to prove? If it could, it would have smiled.

That I'm always right.

There is a subtle shiver that shakes my cold flesh as I step out into the day, gritting my teeth upon instinct as the frigid front runs like specters down my exposed arms. People hunker down in their homes like hermits on these days, a nostrum to the rest of their problems. Even as the glacial winds howl in questionable anger I trudge on, eyeing the flickering hearths with blatant abhorrence to the way they live. But the hours go on and people change. For a while I thought myself human, sane and un-judgemental and oh so bland. But recently, I believe to find myself filling once again with melancholy distaste of the world's apathetic aversions. Though these people and this life is now viewed in a different mirror since I was brought far away from everything that I used to be, it's plainly obvious that the outside worlds have not changed from their flithy superficiality that I always used to hate, and still do. This familiarity comforts me.

It's all I have left. Perhaps a shallow and vain thought but altogether true. I once took pride in my inability to care for the world around me, shrugging off their problems and the little skeleton children that run around in the winter, shivering and shuddering with spindly arms that will break under the slightest weight of praise. Now the silver ring with frozen gems is hypothermic in my numb palm, pulsating its desire to be seen. Within my pocket it symbolises a new life; something without - let's face it. I can never be without - antipathy to these people who are so very unworthy of whatever life would thrust upon them. I narrow my lashes against the snarling wind and struggle forward, seeing nothing but a haze of white swirl around my feet as if calling them to my command. It's night now, if Kaya decided to be proactive today she would be hunting in this mess.

It's times like these I'm glad I'm a thief and most certainly not a hunter.

The metal hums warmly against my bitter skin, coaxing some semblance of life into the long-waxen digits. When the aperture gapes open I willingly shuffle in, the freezing air pooling in my boots and biting at my toes. Instantly I'm assaulted by the heady smell of stewing nutrition, making saliva pool in the crevices of my mouth and making the dredges of the vodka bottle I had for breakfast rumble angrily in approval. With me comes a gust of frozen air and the owner of the place snaps a beady gaze in my general direction, smiling a crooked grin once I make my presence known. "Flight! C'mere, ye little whore. Haven't seen ye in ages!" In return I give my best smirk, it growing only when she claps in delight around the large ladle in her hand. "Thas right, ye do it well. Now c'mere. Sit, sit!"

Gratefully I take a stool, rubbing my hands in an attempt to bring feeling back into the lightly tanned flesh. Water drips glossy from the chipped shine of my off-tan nails, and I flip back soaking hair that has begun to collect glittering ice crystals along the ends. The slaughterhouse is warm and smells of death - I love that scent more than words can say - with the storm raging quietly outside. Faye smiles again and looks into the back rooms. "Aye, ye dolt! When's thae next batch gonna be ready? Flight here looks like a bloody statue!" I scowl but say nothing, apathetic curiousity choosing to be the best course of action. A muffled reply and then I have a bowl of steaming stew set in front of me, which I waste no time in replicating my imitation of a stray dog. Faye snorts and turns to look at me with a cautiously interested eye.

"Somebody was askin' 'bout ye today, ye know."

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[OOC: damn it, I hate this post but OMFR SHE HAS A FC NOW. Olivia Wilde <3333333 do I know how to pick 'em or what? + I've changed her color. felt it was time for a change.][/size]

Last Edit: Jan 2, 2011 14:20:04 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen