Reena - Angry and Afraid

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Tue Apr 02, 2019 6:09 pm

Reena woke.

Almost immediately, she attempted to go back to sleep, nestling into the many blankets and pillows to hide herself again. But a whiff of rose and honey and a face nuzzling into her neck and cheek, convinced the woman that perhaps staying awake was best. A smile slid across her face as she gazed over at Robin, her lover laying propped up on one elbow.

The elf’s normally pristine braids were a wild and tangled mess, and Reena reached up in a feeble attempt to smooth them down. She worked out a single knot before her hand flopped down back into the blankets. A laugh escaped Robin, who then leaned down to brush her lips against Reena’s cheek.

“Good morning,” the elf woman murmured. “Sleep well?”

A yawn and stretch, and Reena turned, making a courageous attempt to rise from the pillows just far enough to kiss Robin back before whumphing back down into comfort. “Sure did.” She gave another yawn, wriggling deeper under the blankets. “An’ ya, luv?”

Robin hummed. “Well enough.”

Reena stared up and around at the room, attempting to decipher their location. She did not remember reaching an inn last night, but being tired enough did that. Or drunk. Or both. The walls were of some elegantly crafted dark wood, and the window outside showed only a clear sky. Turning her head, she noted the thick rug on the floor and a painting on the wall. Just squinting at the art, she could make out the beaming faces of two children.

“Luv?” Reena turned her face back to Robin, who frowned at the touch of concern in her voice. “How much didya say th’ room costed again?”

A pause.

The elf laughed suddenly, reaching over to playfully run her hands through Reena’s hair. “Nothing, you goose.” She grinned. “You were the one who said it was a gift from your family.”

“A gift.” Reena repeated. “Fer us?”

“And much better than your dowry would have been for that… whatever his name was,” Robin continued. She leaned down, voice lowering conspiratorially. “I think your parents prefer me as a daughter-in-law.”

Reena blinked.

Studying the face of her love, then the room again, she jerked backwards with a growl. “Stay outta me head, fiend!”

Across from her, Robin blinked, looking hurt. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t ya start!”

Reena heard a sigh, coming from nowhere, and a liquid smooth voice that sent shivers through her body. “Are you sure?”

“I’m done wit’ yer games.”

“But you miss being happy.”

“I ne’er said I did.”

“And you miss her.”

Looking over to Robin, the elf's face frozen in confusion, Reena shuddered. “I… I do.”

“What harm in seeing what could be?”

“It ain’t real.”

“Awake and miserable, or dreaming and content? I know which I would choose.”

“Let me wake.”

Reena woke.

Sand coated the side of her face as she roused herself. The tent was stifling, and the woman crawled forward, waving a hand forward to pull the cloth aside so she could peer outside. The desert was dark and quiet.

She let the tent flap fall, shuffling backwards.

“Fine,” Reena choked out. “Please. Show her again. Show our family. I do. I miss her an’ I want her. Hells. I’ll do anything fer her again.”

Curling up with her sword in her arms, she closed her eyes once more and fell back into the dream.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:28 am

Reena woke.

A cloud drifted away from the sun, and she squinted in the sudden blinding glow. The woman yawned, and felt a hand in hers tighten as she shifted in place. She looked over. Robin lay in the grass next to her, face turned towards the sun with a similar sleepy expression.

"Wha's th' time?" Reena murmured, not sure if Robin was even awake enough to hear.

"Mrmnph," came the answer. The elf rolled over on her side with an arm reaching over to pull Reena close to her. "Not time enough for waking."

Reena closed her eyes again. "Mmm."

The sun was warm.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sat Apr 06, 2019 6:39 pm

“You know how to make a warlock run?”

Reena stared at the two in front of her, frozen in place as the wash of white magic rippled over the dark tower of a man. His face was hidden; she couldn’t even begin to guess what sort of expression he was making. Some emotion from the pit of her stomach told her that she didn’t matter enough to merit a change of face from him. He would kill her and go back to what he had been doing. Like swatting at a bug.

He would kill her.

Kill.

That still hadn’t registered when he spoke again, an incomprehensible rumble to her ears, but for two words.

“Ten seconds.”

Reena nearly stayed. Maybe to stand there and take it, accept the death- maybe it would mean something to them. Not him of course, but the others. The other. The guard; hells she still didn’t even know his name. She had said as much before, staring at him in the eye through the slits of his helmet, unarmored and hands outstretched, just waiting for the bolt of his crossbow. He could kill her, and she wouldn’t fight it.

But as the shadow-wielder moved again, another spell rippling over him, she broke. She couldn’t. Not this time, not from him and maybe not ever.

Her voice rasped out in a hiss. “Hells.”

And Reena ran.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Apr 08, 2019 6:10 pm

Reena woke.

“Darling,” Robin shook her shoulders gently, her voice soft and strained. The elf shook her again, expression turning pained. “Please, I need you to wake-”

“Sa’wake,” Reena groaned and struggled to sit up. “Whassamatter?”

“I already sent Vara and Ilun away- there’s a man here. A knight. He says he’s here to kill you.”

“Hells.” The warlock extricated herself from the tangle of blankets, fumbling her way over to their dresser for her sword. “Where’s me thrice-damned armor an’ me-”

A thought struck her, and Reena turned slowly to face Robin.

“Robin.” Her voice turned quiet. “Ya sent onla ta o’ our childers away?”

“Dain said he could hold him off so I could wake you-”

Reena didn’t wait for her wife to finish, bolting out the door and down the stairs. She burst out the front door and into the early morning to see him standing there, sword in his hand and a young man’s body crumpled before him in a pool of blood.

“Ya surprise me, Ser Knight,” she growled, raising her own blade to point towards him. “I always knew ya had nae wealth o’ moral code, but murder o’ childer now?”

Her voice cracked., and she refused to look down at the body of her son.

“That thing was not a child,” he replied, a twist of his hand shaking blood droplets from his sword. “Spawn of demon-cursed are demon-cursed themselves.

He wore no helm. His face was calm; beatific even. He truly believed his own words.

“So are those who lie with demon-cursed, I suppose,” she growled.

He did not rise to the goad, his gaze only moving past the warlock and to the house where Robin stood, frozen with fear. “Yes. They are.”

A wordless scream escaped Reena’s throat as she clutched at the amulet around her neck and sent a ball of fire forth to explode at his feet. She leaped for the knight, her sword snaking for his throat even as her other hand moved quickly to sketch symbols in the air.

The red energy arced towards him as he easily batted the warlock’s sword aside. It struck him in the side and disappeared, absorbed by some magical shield. Growling, Reena twisted her blade to strike again. Another symbol, and darkness fell over them.

All she could do was keep him distracted enough for Robin and their other children to escape. Reena darted around, striking him weakly as much as she could, keeping him turning away, keeping him busy. In the distance, she could see the figure of her wife fleeing for the forest.

When his sword finally bit into her chest-

Reena woke.

“Darling,” Robin shook her shoulders gently, her voice soft. The elf shook her again. “Please, I need you to wake-”

“Sa’wake,” Reena groaned and sat up quickly, reaching for her wife. “Whassamatter?”

“I should be asking you that, dearest.”

“Wha?”

Robin squeezed Reena’s hand. “You were restless. Crying out. Another nightmare?”

The warlock fell silent, laying back down in their bed. “…Yeah. I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Letting out a deep breath, Reena shook her head. “Nae, jus’ foolish worries. Echoes o’ th’ past an’ such.”

“Hmmn.” The elf nestled up against her, Robin’s eyelids fluttering. “Perhaps try to sleep again?”

“Right.” She yawned, shutting her eyes.

Reena woke.

The sky was blue.

She stared up at the lazily drifting clouds, feeling almost as if she could fly up and join them. But her body was too heavy. Reena frowned at the thought and shifted her gaze, looking for the reason why. It was soon obvious, as a large sword pinned her body to the dirt. She tried to raise a hand to pull it out, but she couldn’t move her arms.

“Do you want help?”

A man stood there, elderly and wizened, with a crooked back and tears streaking the dirt and blood on his face. His clothing was simple and torn. Reena turned her face to him, struggling to place him in her memory. An errant thought of familiarity struggled to the forefront of her mind, but it soon drifted away as another cloud caught her attention.

He waited for her answer, and the woman attempted to draw in a deep breath. Nothing happened.

“If you want help, you must ask for it,” the man said. His voice was softly chiding, but Reena’s face turned away as if he had struck her.

She tried again to draw breath, to help along the words, but once more her chest did not move, and the words did not come. Something fiery-hot tightened around her throat.

“You must ask for help,” he said again. It was the third time he spoke, and Reena knew that it was the last.

The burning grip around her neck strengthened as the warlock struggled for the words. But she stayed silent, and with a disappointed sigh, the weeping man turned away. At each step he took away from her, Reena could feel the ground shake, echoed by a beat in her chest. The steps faded. The beat continued.

Reaching up now, she gripped the sword with both hands to pull it, inch by inch, out of her chest. She threw it to the side to clatter upon the ground, and looked into the cavity of her chest. A heart beat there. Her own heart, she realized, being in her chest, in her body.

Strange.

Reena lay back down to stare at the sky and the drifting clouds.

She had helped herself, in the end. It always ended up that way. Everyone lied and twisted her for their own purposes, speaking of helping her and caring for her, when all they wanted was to twist and twist and twist.

But he didn’t lie to her. She couldn’t trust him; couldn’t trust anyone but herself, but-

He didn’t lie.

Reena woke.

She lay on a couch, the familiar ceiling of the Nomad focusing from a blur. Someone had put a blanket over her. It was warm. Her head hurt, and she did not want to move. A faint din of tavern noise and the clinking of drinks echoed around her. Someone’s footsteps passed behind her, but she did not want to move.

This was one of the more boring dreams. She did not want to move.

Her eyes closed again.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Wed Apr 10, 2019 7:02 pm

Reena woke.

Immediately, the woman scrabbled backwards, away from where she had been laying with her face mere finger lengths from the gaping maw of a dead kobold. Her palms pricked and stung with the shards of stone and bone littering the floor of the cave. She took a moment to breathe before glancing around at the corpses littering the floor.

Picking through fuzzy memories, the warlock realized she had killed the… leader or high shaman or whatever of this group, and immediately passed out. At the thought, her mouth opened in jaw-rattling yawn and the tide of sleep threatened her once more.

Reena clenched her hands into fists, feeling shards dig into her flesh and the warmth of her own blood. Not now.

She rose to her feet, wincing as she put a hand out to catch the wall. But the pain cleared her mind and chased away the tempting grasp of sleep. Picking the flecks out of her palms, Reena managed to make it to the mouth of the cave and out into the night. She sank to her knees in the grass, suddenly unable to keep her eyes from closing once more.

The dream reached for her with both arms and pulled her under.

Reena woke.

“Are you feeling alright?” Robin’s cool hand pressed to her forehead. “You drifted off there for a moment.”

She blinked, shaking her head with a wry grin. “Ya been keeping me up ta late, ya vixen. I’m fine, jus’ a wee tired.”

“We still have some time before your parents arrive; maybe you should nap more.”

“But we gotta prepare fer- mmn,” Reena’s reply was cut off as the elf kissed her.

Reena woke.

She smelled dirt. And felt dirt, all over her face. The warlock raised her head and spit out bits of grass and dirt that had somehow made their way into her mouth when she had faceplanted into the ground.

“Issa this a dream or nae?” she muttered, struggling to her feet. Again.

Walking stiffly towards the road, Reena idly pawed through her bag. She was surprised when her search resulted in an olive-green bottle. Full bottle. With a cork just loose enough for her to wrestle off.

“Sa much fer promises.” She raised the bottle to her lips, hesitating just before it touched. “Hells ta’t. Sorra, Ser Knight. S’pose I kin disappoint ya further.” Reena tilted the bottle, savoring the burn of the moonshine in her throat.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sun Apr 14, 2019 7:27 pm

“Damn it all, Caradoc,” the woman murmured to the sword she held before her.

It was still beautiful, and she couldn’t bring herself to hate it anymore. Casting it away would be unthinkable after so long spent with it by her side. Even now, with a sharp knife, she carefully picked away flakes of dried blood out of the cursive lettering carved into the blade. It kept her alive too well to let it fall to rust- not that she was entirely sure that it could rust. Knowing its maker, he would want her to wield it for as long as possible.

Pausing in her cleaning, Reena read the inscription again.

The world is filled with pain and torment-

She could agree.

-and the best that one can do is to suffer those blows that cannot be avoided-


These days, that seemed to be all of them. Time after time, battle after battle, arguments and quarrels and clashes, constantly hitting her. But she was stronger now. After enough time, surely she would be numbed to anything seeking to strike her.

-and deal as much pain back to those who offend.


That was the difficult part.

Reena looked up again and heaved a sigh. Her life would be a great deal more pleasant if everyone ignored her. Lonelier, perhaps, but lonely and content was better than lonely and miserable. Skal had given her that for a time; walking only with Caradoc at her side had been the most peace she had known.

“An’ then th’ drow happened,” the woman muttered. “Tha’s what I get fer tryin’ ta be helpful.”

First they praised her. Then they would start questioning what happened. Then they would have sought answers. Perhaps others may have traveled from the mainland. Brought word. Then accusations. Anger. Exile. Burnings. No care that she had only done what she had as a last resort for the good of others. Exactly as she had been warned three- no, four years before.

So, she left while they were still praising her. Before all of the inevitable.

It was the only way it could have ended well. Let them remember her only as the grumpy alcoholic who managed to bluff her way through an encounter that would have certainly ended in bloodshed. Ignore all the obvious concerns like the demonic speech, supposed confidence in dealing with drow, spouting lies to ally and foe alike, leaving the; by the Hells, leaving a spirit stone behind to gift their priestess with another chance at life-

Whenever Reena thought about that day, she cringed. So much could have gone wrong. If her group had been any less terrified and any more suspicious, they might have simply ignored her attempts to keep the situation calm. If any of them understood what she had first said in the demonic tongue, certainly they would not have allowed the drow to leave so easily. Or her. Not all concepts translate easily from Abyssal to Common. She was still surprised they had believed her on that.

“I just wanted ta make sure everyone got outta there alive.” Her voice rasped dryly in her throat and she struggled to swallow before reaching for a bottle. “That were it. It didn’t matter what happened after. If’n th’ drow come back, it don’t matter. Th’ Skal folk are strong.”

As she was her only audience, no one spoke up to deny her words. More and more, the warlock realized she rather preferred it that way. No one to call her a failure, no one to praise or rebuke her, no one at all.

“I don’ wan’ ta take revenge on anyone,” Reena admitted to herself, gaze dropping to the inscription once more. “I jus’ wan’ ta be let be.”

Pain tests all, but gives strength of spirit and true pleasure to the hardy and true.


Strength of spirit or apathy to misfortune? In her own case, she figured both were true.

“Course, th’ fact that yer spendin’ most o’ yer days whinin’ about how e’erythin’ is hard fer ya, don’t mean yer apathetic ta misfortune, jus’ that o’ everyone around ya.”

No one to rebuke her, except for herself.

Letting out another sigh, the warlock lifted her knife and continued to scratch blood off the blade. She did wallow in despair and self-pity. It grated to realize that the priest’s insight about her was right.

But she didn't have to admit it.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Fri Apr 19, 2019 8:37 pm

Dear Ma,

I know you’re probably going to want to clout me over the head for this, but I wanted to ask you about Aunt Hylga. It’s not every day that one of our kin chooses their lover over their family, and I know that she were as good as dead and gone to the rest of the Welkinses, but you remember your sister, I know you do.

Turns out, she had a son. Who I guess I met. We were humoring about being related, being two of not so many redheads on this island, and he asked (in jest) if I had an aunt who disappeared named Hylga. She’s dead now, he said.

It has been years upon years since I last heard her name, but funny enough, it were always your anger at her mention that made the memory so sharp in my mind. But red-haired, sang like a bird, knew the Twa Sisters, his mother had to have been your sister, or else th’ gods are playing tricks on us. So, well, the family has got another cousin. He’s a good drinking partner, though coin hates sticking to his fingers as much as it do with me.

I haven’t mentioned the possibility of him coming to the family village someday. With Hylga disowned, I weren’t sure if he’d be welcome at all, though I know you’d like him. So I suppose that’s why I’m writing. In part, it’s to let you know that I’m alive and well-


“Ya arse-brained lout!” Reena growled at herself, swiping inkstained parchment from the table in front of her. “If Ma ne’er wanted ta see her sister again after she ran off wit’ some man, whaddya think she’ll do when she hears from ya?”

Four years, now. She had sent no word to her family for four years. A year since she had seen Danny or Mert or Vicky; maybe they had gone home. Hopefully they had gone home. Danny knew about her pact, but he wouldn’t talk. Mert and Vicky hadn’t exactly needed to know. None of them knew about her failed faith.

It was for the best. Her skill in deceit did not extend to family, and she was a far cry from the girl they had grown up with.

Darren had disappeared. Lionel had disappeared. Will had disappeared. The Knight had disappeared.

All who she cared for and loved and sometimes hated for leaving, but they had gone anyway. Whether they were dead or travelling or merely had settled somewhere else, she had no way to tell. Even the one she feared and hated more than she had ever cared for him, marked a hollow in her heart.

With friends, she knew she was loved. With enemies, she knew she had a chance to become better, to prove them wrong. With neither, there was nothing. No purpose.

“Arse,” she said dully, head hanging forward, with her shoulders hunched. A hand fumbled for the remaining parchment on the table, but Reena soon let it fall. “Yer jus’ a whiny mot who ain’ never had ta be alone afore.”

Which wasn’t even true then.

Over the years, Reena had a countless number of experiences being alone. Indeed even when she had her loved ones at her side, all she had craved was to go off and be alone and be ignored and never have anyone shadowing her. It was different, of course, now that her isolation had not been her own choice.

Which also wasn’t even true.

Reena’s voice lingered in its growl. “Ya could just go ta th’ Nomad an’ be wit’ Wotan an’ th’ others.” She leaned forward, her forehead thunking onto the table. “An’ ya kin finally stop resistin’ th’ Ser Knight’s offer o’ aid an’ finally kick th’ Dark Prince’s arse. An’ ye kin go fin’ new companions. An’ ya kin track down Caradoc or Adarien or Sheris or wha's-his-name th' geezer. An’ ya kin go ta Guldorand an’ make an arse o’ yerself sa they got no choice but ta gut ya in front o’ everyone.” Her words sharpened. “An’ ya kin go talk ta th’ ones they advised ya ta talk ta an’ do lit’rally anythin’ but sit here an’ feel sorra fer yerself an’ moan about how it’s all unfair an’ linger on th’ past an’ everyone ya miss an’ yer own mistakes.”

Reena could do any of that. But she could also just sit there and drink herself into a stupor and stay miserable and alone and self-pitying and blame anyone and everyone but herself for it.

The choice, really, was obvious.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Tue Apr 30, 2019 7:42 pm

She fumbled with the pin clasp of her cloak, finally ripping it free of the thick cloth to drop to the dirt in front of him. It was for the best. Pain to others; pain to herself, all she brought was pain. No one deserved to be inflicted with her, least of all the Frostblades. They would be better off with her far, far away.

The knight spoke more, but she was beyond allowing herself to listen to his words, even as full of truth as they were. Any regard he had for her was misplaced. And really, the only thing for him to do should have been to strike her down right there. As soon as the first words had crossed her lips.

But he didn’t.

She crunched the portal lens a bit too forcefully in her fist, desperate to escape his gaze. A moment later, the only remnants of her passing were the blood droplets staining the wood of the dock in dark spatters.

“I won’t end up like Neli,” she had told him in anger. Or fear.

Just so long as no one came after her; left her alone as she pleased, that would likely be true. And really, how many people would Neli have hurt if they didn’t insist on chasing her down? Reena didn’t know, exactly. But it must be far less than that.

But after the wedding, they had to take revenge. That was what goodly people did. They repaid wrongs with blood and hunted down those that harmed who they loved. The hells hath no fury akin to justice being served. Something like that. And a cycle that continued on and on and on.

She was lost again, it seemed. Now, all that was left to do was hide. Farewells were a waste of time and only brought still more pain.

Alone in the desert wastes, Reena dug her blood-soaked hand into the ground. The sand streamed through her fingers and stung in the still-open cuts. “Selfish, selfish,” the woman muttered to herself. “Ya said straight out’ta him, sa why’re ya still feelin’ guilty?”

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Eira
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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Thu May 09, 2019 7:58 am

She lay in the snow with her fingers trailing idly through the winter-chilled water. Wind blew past her face. The sound of gentle waves lapping against an icy shore was peaceful. She wore no armor and her sword lay somewhere in the distance, its glow subdued by snow.

The woman's eyes closed and she allowed a smile to fall over her lips.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Thu May 30, 2019 6:09 am

"Beloved?"

"Mrmn?"

"Would ye e'er consider travel'n north?"

A pause. "Why do you ask?"

"I been dreamin' about snow an' th' cold an' I dunno. Makes me wish fer winter."

Robin rolled over in their bed and propped herself up on one elbow to look at the red-haired woman, her wife, laying next to her. She reached out with a gentle hand to run her fingers across Reena's face, pausing to tweak the human woman on the nose with a laugh.

"Why not just wait for winter?" she replied, drawing her hand away.

"I dunno... I just. I got th' itch. I wan' ta travel an' see things. Ya know how we alwas used ta dream fer?"

"But it's perfect here. Summer is just starting! How could you want it to end?"

"I know, I know, jus," Reena waved a hand at the sun shining outside. "Issa always sunny an' lovely and th' like, but don' it seem strange that it's alwas been sunny here? I dunno, jus' somethin' Ma always says; ya kinnae 'ppreciate th' good lest ye dealt wit' bad."

Robin blinks, looking out the window. "What do you mean, love? It's raining right now. It's been raining for a week, almost."

Reena hesitated before looking out as well. Indeed it was, with grey stormclouds and heavy raindrops pattering against the window. She frowned, trying to place some thought before her brow smoothed and she let out an embarrassed laugh. "Well heck, yer right. I dunno what came over me then there. Ya'd think I were right outta me mind."

"I'll forgive you," Robin murmured and the elf leaned down to brush her lips against her wife's forehead. "But, I think we could do with a break from the cold and gloomy, don't you think?"

"Mrhm," the red-haired woman agreed, her eyes closing. "Sure wish I could dream o' somewhere warm instead."

"The rain can't last forever. Summer will be here soon."

"Weren't it-"

"Hmn?"

"Never min' that. Ya know me, alwa' stuck inna dream."

"I love you."

"I know ya do, luv. Tha's why ya married me."

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Gideon DeVay » Sun Jun 16, 2019 9:53 am

Just wanted to chime in to say I still read and love these :) great work, please keep writing!
"Yog don't think Beat Up Guy know how dogman work."

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Jun 17, 2019 5:53 am

Thank you! I really love to hear that people enjoy my writings, and Reena is one of my favorites to write.

“Weren’t ya th’ one who were sayin’ that if’n ya nae’r see another drow it’d be ta soon?” the woman muttered crossly to herself from where she was slumped against a wall in the hub of the one city she wished she could have passed by. “An’ ya got th’ guts ta whine ‘bout it when ya knew full well where this were gonna take ya?”

A goblin trudged by a bit too close to her, and a vision of her gauntleted fingers jabbing deep into its skull through its eyes flashed through her mind. With a hoarse chuckle, Reena closed her coldly-glowing eyes briefly to banish the memory. Her goblin-killing days were long behind her; especially down here. Best to stay unnoticed and out of the way. She already risked enough just trying to talk to someone, let alone pick unneeded fights.

Besides, if the Dark Prince wanted blood, it would certainly be a higher class of blood.

She could live with that. He could have all the bloodshed and fear and sacrifices he wanted, as long as she could find it down here; away from everyone she loved and cared for. At least he gave her that much; on top of the magic and strength and every other sort of ability. She just had to… find Adarien. Or Neli. They could tell her what to do next; finally give her the guidance and advice she had resisted for so long. And perhaps they could help her not care as much. To feel less; as they did.

Reena’s head tilted back, hood brushing against the rough stones of the wall and woman groaned under her breath. “Neli, ya better nae be killt, I swears it,” she muttered. “Nae when I actually need ya ta be breathin’.”

Had it really been six years since she had met them? And eight since she had first left the ship? Everything had seemed so wildly out of control then; trying to play as many sides as possible and stay hidden and learn all she could and be worthy enough for Ilmater, all of that and more. Now, life was almost too simple. Simple and bitter and miserable and alone.

Reena’s head jerked to the side as if someone had struck her, and she remained like that for a few moments, hood falling over her eyes.

Her voice rasped from her in low snarl. “Alrigh’, fine. I gettit, ya namby sard.” Another unseen blow snapped her head back the other way. Reena let out a shuddering breath. “Ya ain’ one ta usually tell me twice fer sure.” Raising a hand, she wiped away the bit of fresh blood oozing from the corner of her mouth.

Straightening, the woman stepped forward to head for a random door leading… not outside. Outcave? Outbuilding? Piking thrice-damned underground. Outsomewhere. Out the gates, at least. Only a matter of a few turns before she had left the city to trudge through the unfamiliar darkness of the overpass. A wand in her hand and armor devoid of her usual wards, she almost dared the lurking driders to come eat her.

At least as daring as it was to be invisible.

Wands were useful like that.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Thu Jun 20, 2019 1:00 pm

“Okay, okay,” the warlock drawled, “I got one fer yerself.”

Standing from the couch and swaying slightly, Reena placed one foot on the low table between them and cleared her throat dramatically. After an appropriately thematic pause, she raised her voice in song, a melody punctuated by her swinging her tankard of rum in the air from side to side.

“Then next comes th’ carpenter ta build ya’a house; he'll build her sa snug ye'll scarce find a mouse.” Reena paused for a long pull from her tankard before smacking her lips and continuing the song. “Wit’ holes inna th’ roof an’ th’ rain twill pour, th’ chimney will smoke an’ it's open th’ door.” She stomped her foot on the table. “An’ it’s hard, hard times.”

On the other couch, Robin laughed out loud. “That one’s easy!” She didn’t bother standing to sing the next verse. “Then next comes the priest, the worst one of all; saying what is the matter with you all this Fall.” Her easy grin widened. “Says he will surely cure your disease, but when the money he's got, you can die if you please.” A stomp on the floor. “And it's hard, hard times.”

“Aww, course I were going easy onna ya!” the red-haired woman chortled, stepping down from the table. “Yer turn.”

“I can go easy on you too,” Robin teased. She hummed for a moment before singing the answering verse. “O sister, sister, reach me but your glove, Binnorie, O Binnorie. And sweet William shall be your love, by the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.”

“I were singin’ tha’ i’me crib!” Reena collapsed on her couch. “Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove, Binnorie, O Binnorie. Sweet William shall better be me love, by th’ bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie!”

Robin half-groaned, still smiling. “They’re all too easy.”

“Na? H’bout… A barrel o’ malt n’a bucket o’ hops, an’ add some yeast, put it all together an’ let it ferment and swell…”

“Laughable! When it's brewed and ready at 11 o'clock we'll stop, for 5 short seconds we'll remember Charlie Mopps…”

“Course, ya know thatta one.”

“One Wiseman came to Cordor-town. He set aside both Queen and Crown. Did his task and fell asleep; gave his bones to the stones to keep.”

“Nae wise men go ta Cordor-town; ta climb th’ hill an’ ne’er come down. ‘Tis wiser far an’ much more brave-”

There was a pause. Robin raised an eyebrow at Reena’s sudden silence. “Dearest? If you don’t finish the verse, it means I win.”

“How d’ya know about Cordor?” The warlock shifted in place, leaning forward with hands clasped as she stared towards her wife. “Ya said ya dinnae knew anythin’ bout th’ island I were in, an’ I ne’er mentioned it ta ya.”

Confusion swept across Robin’s face. “Where’d you hear Cordor? I said,” she cleared her throat before she sang the start of the verse again, “One Wiseman came to Aynor-town. He set aside both Queen and Crown.”

Reena blinked. “But I thought ya had…” She scoffed and shook her head. “Hells, I’m gettin’ ta be old’n mad at this rate. Coulda sworn ya’d said th’… th’ other thing.” She couldn’t even remember the name now, shrugging it off to continue the verse. “‘Tis wiser far an’ much more brave, ta stay at home an’ face th’ grave!”

“Not too old and mad, I hope,” Robin laughed softly, reaching a hand out to her wife. “But you know I’m with you; no matter what.”

“Course ya are.” She grabbed the elf’s hand with both of hers, squeezing tight. “We lost much ta many friends ’n loves ta lose each other. Adventurin’ days be far behind us.”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me more about your adventures.” Robin stood, crossing around the table to settle comfortably next to Reena. “And everyone you met, everything you did,” she leaned over and kissed the warlock’s cheek. “I could write a song about it. About you.”

In the process of taking another deep gulp from her tankard, Reena snorted and coughed, finally bursting out in laughter. “Hells! Thatta be th’ day. I ain’t one ta be in songs, luv! I met sa many others who’d be better. Did I tell ya ‘bout me cousin? There’s a bawdy ballad fer sure. An’ I were practically trippin’ o’er knights an’ I tells ya, there were this one fella that I were pre’y sure had th’ whole island tryin’a slander’m atta one point.”

The elf slipped her arm around Reena’s shoulder. “Tell me all about it, love. I want to hear about it.”

“Why th’ sudden interest? I mean, I been sorta wantin’ ta tell ya, hells luv, sometimes it seems like ya kin read me mind.”

Robin hummed softly. “You talk sometimes; when you sleep. I know you’re dreaming of it. And I know that sometimes your dreams feel very real to you. Maybe this would help.”

Silence. Reena swallowed hard, glancing down to her rum. “Mebe. Th’ dreams… do feel awful real a lot. Sometimes more real than e’en this. An’ I worry ‘bout it, cuz what if this were alla dream an’ what if I’m back there’n-” She shook her head, forcing a laugh. “Listen ta me. Old ‘n mad, I say! Any life there were life wi’out you an’ that kinda life ain’ none at all.”

“I worry for you,” Robin said simply. “Dreams like this aren’t normal. You’ve been changed by your time there; you need a way to put it behind you.”

“I suppose.” She drew in a reluctant breath. “Well. I dunno where ta start.”

“The one last night?”

“I guess, it ain’ sa pleasant tha.”

“It’s important for you to realize what’s real and what’s not.”

“Right… Sa I were inna this place called Andunor…”

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sat Jun 22, 2019 10:10 am

Run, run, she had to run.

Pox-ridden mot o’a thrice-damned cully!

The woman thudded into a door, the rain-drenched cobblestones slick under her feet as she tried to stop before hitting the wall. She had failed, clearly, and in her frantic attempts to scrabble at the handle, to open it, the door remained stolidly shut. A cry tore from her throat and she staggered back, rushing forward to crash her shoulder into the door. She received only a dull pained bruise for her efforts. Trying the handle again, inexplicably, it turned, and the woman darted inside and slammed the door behind her.

Backing away from the door, the woman’s panicked gaze darted around as she searched for some way of barricade. A chair? No; it’d be smashed to bits. Bookshelves? She couldn’t even lift it. Altar- Hells. She knew where she was.

Her breathing slowed as she stared at the altar before her; a hand raising to hover over it. She couldn’t bring herself touch it, not now; though she could see where her hand had rested countless times before. Hells. Was it the most fitting place for her to die? Probably. Her gaze tore away from the altar as the door creaked open behind her and the knight strode in, blade held before him. The woman turned.

“I thought,” she dared to say, throat dry, “tha’ ye called me yer friend.”

He wore no helm, and she almost wished he had so she didn’t have to see that disappointment; the disappointment that had plagued her for years and years, even when she was islands away and hiding.

“How could I be your friend?”

The warlock choked as every word he spoke seemed to hang in the air before striking at her, stabbing somewhere deep in her chest.

He continued. “You lie. You steal. You cheat. You murder. You betray. And even if none of that; you still have no soul. You serve the Abyss.”

“Everything I’ve done were ta survive,” she rasped out. Her foot moved back, a slow retreat she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Ya wanted ta help me survive. Ya said I were decent. Ya jus’ wanted ta help me. Nae ta kill me.”

“I wanted to help you when you wanted to be helped.” He matched her every step back with one forward. “We all did. And you took our care and kindness and ran away with it. You spat on any help offered. You took your chances with murderers, exiles, and witches.”

“I jus’ didn’ wan’ ta be alone.”

“But-” his voice had turned mocking and cruel, so unlike him that she stopped in her slow escape. “-you are alone.”

“Why’re ya doin’ this?”

“Because you deserve it.”

He lunged for her, such a fury in his eyes that she froze in place, unable to move.

Reena woke.

She turned to the side and vomited, the sting of bile in her throat serving to wake her up further as she struggled to remember where she was. The smell of smoke. Darkness. Mushrooms. A tattered blanket in a hole in the wall. Crates surrounding her. The warlock heaved and retched and spat, finally tearing a gauntlet off to wipe at her mouth.

“Hells,” she gasped, spitting again. Her hand moved, knocking over something with a clink and clatter. Her vision swam, and she reached blindly for whatever it was, finding the smooth glass of a bottle. A comforting feeling. Reena shook it, hearing the slosh of some liquid still in it, and brought it to her lips to frantically drink more. To numb more.

At the taste of water, she almost spat it out again but, for once, she listened to the dryness of her lips and ache in her bones. And the more she drank, the more she calmed down, her breathing falling steady once more. Just a dream. It was just a dream. Had to be. There was no way he’d ever do that. Everything he had said had been true; but he’d never try to murder her like that. He couldn’t.

But… she had been in Cordor last she remembered. That was days in Cordor; it couldn’t have all been a dream, could it? How in the hells had she gotten down here again? Even drink couldn’t wipe out that many memories.

Perhaps it was safer to avoid the knight. Better for both of them.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Tue Jun 25, 2019 8:41 am

“Ya coulda just said no an’ left it there,” the woman muttered aloud, voice almost stolen away by the wind.

She stumbled through the forest with shoulders hunched and cloak drawn tight around her as she fought through the stinging cold rain. Her boots squelched through the moss and mud and she veered sideways, pushed more by the wind and her own drunken reeling than any actual desire to go somewhere. In the distance, she could just make out the dark mouth of a cave.

“Why d’they alwas gotta try’n help?”

Her next step slid in the muck, and she fought with herself to keep steady before pressing on once more.

“He could jus’ said no. An’ ya coulda just left. Why th’ hell didn’ ya leave sooner?” Her words turned bitter, directed to herself now. “They all say th’ same thing, ya shoulda figgered. He an’ th’ Ser Knight an’ them all.”

Any glimmer of hope they gave her was a falsehood; any good they spoke of in her, any potential, just confirmed that she had tricked them as well as she had tricked others. Believing in her own lies and in their delusions just brought more pain and strife. As she had told him; it was better for her to be hated for what she was, than allow others to be hurt while trying to change her into someone she was not.

No more. Running was easiest, running brought survival. His words had struck a little too close to the truth in her heart, a little too deeply into her fears and worries. And so she had run yet again, seeing that for all her bluff and bluster, he could see right through it. Him and the priest and the knight; why were they able to read her so easily? She could lie to others without thinking; a bit of drink and a smile and they were content. But those three weren’t fooled. And she hated that they couldn’t be.

Escaping from the pouring rain into the shelter of the cave was an almost shocking transition, and Reena sagged against the rock wall.

She needed to get better. Better at hiding, better at lying, better at it all. If she could believe in a sort of happiness with her own path; perhaps they could believe it too. And anyone who tried to read her. Others could live their lives without second-guessing every decision; why was it so hard for her? Every step she took, she couldn’t help but panic and wonder if it was the wrong one. And then take a step back. And forward again. And back. And on and on.

Her chin lifts, hood falling back somewhat off her hair. “Oie, ya pikin' sard, ya coulda leastwise tell me what ta do that’d ya prefer. I ain’ got much more’n a peep fra ya since I stopped resisti-”

She halts abruptly.

That couldn’t be it. The fighting was an amusement to him, nothing more. And yet, she had received and followed more orders when she had hated every bit of it, than now, when she had… given up. No. It had to be something else. He was just waiting for her to do something different. Find others, maybe. She had said it herself, find Adarien and Neli and she would find purpose again. They knew what they were doing. They never faltered. They lived their lives freely, answering to none but their patrons and their whims. They had to have the answer.

“Where inna th’ hells do I go next?” Reena murmured, reaching up to pull her hood forward again. “If’n they ain’ inna Andunor, where do I go?”

They sacrificed to their patrons for answers, didn’t they? Something like that; maybe it would guide her.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Wed Jul 03, 2019 11:32 am

“I don’t wan’t nuthin’ ta do with the gods,” she snapped at the man. “All they do is meddle’n mess wit’ lives that’d be better off wi’out them. They bring pain’n sufferin’ an’ they lie fer their own purposes jus’ cause they kin. Cause they’re gods an’ we’re jus’ mortal filth.”

“And when has Ilmater ever lied to you?”

Her jaw stiffened. “Ta lie ta me e’d ‘aveta take notice’o me, an’ it ain’ like I’m a priest or summat like that. Just, y’know, lived me whole life fer him. At least, I tried ta. An’ all it did was hurt me an’ hurt others ‘round me. I ne’er needed ta be noticed by him’n I’m better off wi’out.”

“Were you really living life for him or were you living life for yourself?”

She looked away. “What kinda sarkin’ question issat?”

“Merely suffering and saying you’re suffering in his name is not-”

“Do ya e’er shut it?” she snapped again, interrupting the man. “I tried. I tried me hardest ta help others an’ fix their pain’n do all I could ta end whate’er suff’ren I could. An’ here, folk spit on tha’ when they’re bleeding outta their eyes or I jus’ ended up bringin’ their downfall’n being more’o a tool fer th’ six-fingered sot.”

“So you gave up.”

“I started to do what I were good at. An’ that’s drinkin’ an’ suff’ren an’ being a damned tool.”

“You gave up.”

“I’ve said it afore, I don’ care ‘bout sayin’ it again. Sa, aye, I gave up cause I’m weak an’ selfish an’ I do what’s easy cause I’m done fightin’ an’ I’m done strivin’ fer what ain’ real an’ what I kin ne’er-”

Reena woke.

Sitting up with a jolt, she only managed to solidly crack her forehead into the wall. Normally, sitting up worked when she was lying on her back, but apparently she had fallen asleep on her side. Thus, the sudden stinging pain in her head that made her squint her eyes shut and mutter curses under her breath. Her eyes closed again. Maybe she could dream again.

“Reena?”

The familiar voice came from behind her and she struggled to turn around in the couch, only belatedly remembering to open her eyes. And the woman did so, staring at her mother.

“Wha?” she muttered, confusion coloring her voice. “Yer ain’t…”

“It’s time to-”

Reena woke.

She didn’t open her eyes this time; not until something jabbed her side and she jumped, A hand scrabbling through soft sheets for her sword. A blurry face came into view, and she blinked at it before trying to swat it away.

“H-hey!” The voice was too amused to sound really offended. “Damn, girl, if I’d known ya was a grumpy riser…” he trailed off with a chuckle.

“Who th’ hell are ya?” she rasped, blinking again and rubbing her eyes. She still hadn’t found her sword. “Where are we?”

He snorted, leaning backwards into the pillows again. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding about how much ya drink. We’re in Cordor, remember? Took a ship from Sencliff. Your idea, really. Personally, I coulda stayed there.”

Reena stared at him. “Why inna th’ hells were I in Sencliff?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t ask. The name’s Nikol, by the way. I introduced myself to ya yesterday, but,” a shrug. “Ya did drink a lot

“Hells,” the woman cleared her throat, studying him. “Wait, did I punch ya?”

“Oh, uh,” he grinned, hand moving to rub the bruise on his jaw. “No, ya punched a sailor, who tried to punch ya, then he got me.”

“Then what?”

A shrug. “That part’s kinda blurry. I think ya punched him again, then his friends drew knives and, well, ya do got a big pikin’ sword.” A pause. “Oh, speaking of,” he rolled over, reaching down to the floor to heave up the blade with both hands and offer it over to her. “Cleaned it for ya. Ya said ya were gonna, but then you fell asleep in the hall.”

She grabbed the sword from him, holding it close. “…Issa this yer room?”

“Oh, uh,” Nikol gave a brief laugh. “Depends! Are ya a guard?” He flashed her a toothy grin.

“…I don’ wan’ ta know.”

“Probably better that way.” Nikol lay back down, arms crossed back under his head and letting out a gusty sigh. “So, Darra, what’s your plan next? I’ll be sailing back to Sencliff eventually, but I can drop ya in Guldorand if ya still wanna go.”

She glanced down at her sword, then back up to him. “…Did I wan’ to go there last night?”

“I mean, that’s why ya started talking to me, weren’t it?”

“Then how th’ hell did I end up drunk off me arse inna Cordor?”

“Ya started drunk off your arse in Sencliff. Then I just sorta took my ship where ya pointed.”

“…Why?”

He laughed again. “I were drunk too.”

“…Right. Sa ta Guldorand I-”

Reena woke.

She took a deep breath, planting a gauntleted hand firmly on the springy moss and grass of the forest floor. Her fingers dug into the earth as she rose to a crouch before ripping a handful of dirt and plants free to just hold in her fist before letting it fall. A crack of branches echoed throughout the trees and Reena looked around, her eyes wide.

A stag stepped through the forest. It saw the woman and stopped as her amber eyes met its dark ones, both gazes carrying the same wariness. After a moment, the animal blew out through its nose and continued walking. Reena rose to her feet, moving carefully before the animal with her fists clenched. It continued to eye her as it stopped once more. And she continued, steps slow and eyes intent on the deer.

And then she struck, fingers grasping for its eyes and arm wrapping around its throat. The deer screamed in fear and pain, but it broke free, battering her with hooves that dented her armor and left her gasping for breath. A gauntlet enclosed around one of its legs, and she yanked hard, reveling in the crack of bone. The stag screamed again and nearly gouged her face with its horns, though she had raised her other hand to halt the blow.

Limping and furious, the stag struck for her again, and Reena disengaged, sidestepping the blow and darting behind it. A leap and she was on its back, her weight driving the animal to the earth where she could twist and tear at its throat before she bit down hard through matted fur and muscle and blood-

Reena woke.

She nearly fell from the rafters, but a quick movement to hug the thick wooden beam saved her from plummeting to the crowd below. Scrabbling quietly to right herself, she sat up carefully and leaned against the vertical pillar both beam and roof. Looking down at the stage, her eyes softened. His voice so beautiful. She was proud of him. She only wished that-

Reena woke.

He sighed. “Hells, and you told me you were happy.”

She took another long drink. “I told lotsa people lotsa things.”

“You lied, I guess.”

“Is that a surprise?”

“Just a disappointment.”

“Again, is that a surprise?”

Reena woke.

The wind rushing past her face stung her eyes as she opened them to see the ground rushing towards her. A faint smile and-

Reena woke.

Liar.

“If yer me conscience,” the woman muttered aloud, “ya been silent fer far ta long ta judge. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

Liar.

She knelt in front of the altar, sword resting on the flagstones in front of her knees. Its green glow was overpowering in the dim light, but the woman could not bring herself to tear her eyes away from the blade. From the words carved on the blade. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, and the woman shook her head crossly as if the sound of her own life were akin to a mosquito whining by her face.

“Gods ain’t done nothin’ fer me.”

Liar.

“I’m better off alone.”

Liar.

“I deserve ta die.”

Liar.

And yet, she couldn’t tell if the voice in her head was stating the fact, or merely commenting on her own conviction and lack belief in her words. With a frown, the woman moved her eyes to the hilt of the sword. It was stained from her recent battle where blisters and cuts on her hand had opened once more to wet the thirsty weapon with her own blood.

“I serve th’ Maiden o’ Pain.”

Liar.

"I serve th' Dark Prince."

Silence.

"I serve me own purposes."

Silence.

"I do wha's best fer meself."

Liar.

Her brow furrowed, and with a wry quirk of her lips, the woman spoke again.

“I am lyin’ right now.”

Silence again, but different. As if that statement hadn’t even been worthy of passing judgement on. It had been her test, and whatever spoke, either her sense of guilt or yet another tormentor in her head, ignored it.

“I want ta die.”

Liar.

“I want ta live.”

Liar.

“I want ta see Robin again.”

And once more, silence.

She had expected it this time. With a deep inhale, the woman finally lifted her gaze from the sword to gaze at the altar. Time passed. She only realized it when footsteps sounded behind her and a voice demanded that she show her face. The woman stood slowly, turned, and obeyed.

They exchanged words, the newcomers seeking answers, and the woman saying little. And all throughout the brief conversation, the constant refrain beat in her head with each thud of her heart.

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

When they released her, she strode confidently out of the foreboding stone building; a confidence that faded as soon as the blackened iron door slammed down behind her. The woman stumbled to the side, fleeing for the safety of the trees. She had hardly passed into the shadow of the forest when sleep threatened her again, and she toppled into a-

Reena woke.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Jul 08, 2019 11:12 am

“What has brought you to return?”

The woman choked back a curse as she stumbled, turning away from the altar to stare at the man standing before her. Or rather, in this moment, she felt as if she were standing before him. The presence he commanded demanded no less, and she fought the urge to quail away before him, knowing that it would do her no favors in endearing herself to the man. Really, not much could help in that regard after all she had done and said before. She reminded herself silently that it was a marvel he hadn’t merely struck her down as a nuisance, let alone deigned to speak with her like this.

It wouldn’t have been the easiest to run from that place. But she forced herself to walk after him when he commanded, passing through that cursed door and down the stairs until she couldn’t hear anything but the incessant chanting and her own heart beating loudly in her throat. When the door shut behind them with a decidedly final thud, she had to force herself to follow him further.

She hadn’t been in a prison for near four years she reckoned, and this room by itself was larger than most buildings she had been in, but when he replied to her pointed question, the space felt altogether too small and too much of a trap. And she hated him for a brief allowed moment, hated herself that she had allowed him to bind her like this, hated everything and everyone and just hated. Hatred was easy to feel here, and it almost changed to shock before she cut the emotions to pieces. She couldn’t allow herself to feel. Not like that.

The glass lens in its pouch at her side weighed heavily on her belt. It would have been painfully simple to just escape and run, as she had been running for almost eight years now, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. No one else had an answer for her. And she didn’t know what else to do. To flee here now would surely seal that fate.

And so she stayed and they spoke and she listened. Her words were sharp and defensive and sullen, and she made a point of drinking through her supply of rum to prove that she could, but she listened.

Hours later, the woman stumbled through the glowing light and fell upon her knees in the sand to retch and vomit up all she had drank. She could still hear the chanting even now, the constant chiseling through her skull. And she vomited again, feeling the acrid sting in her throat before she coughed and choked and searched for her flask so she could swallow gulps of tepid water. Flinging the flask away, she fumbled through her pack for yet another of the many bottles she carried.

But as soon as the mouth of the vessel touched her own lips and she could smell a whiff of booze, the woman turned to the side and retched dryly, painfully. With a muffled shout, she flung the bottle away to bounce and roll in the sand. She couldn’t even hear the glug of wasted liquid soaking and drying into the sand over the words thumping their beat loudly in her head.

“I won’ run nae more,” she growled after spitting to the side and wiping her mouth. “Pike ta ya.”

The woman staggered to her feet, yanking her pack from her shoulders to upturn it into the sand. Bottles clanked against each other and onto the beach, some shattering to spill out in puddles that, again, soaked into the sand. She shook the bag once and spat at the scattered bottles before turning away and walking slowly towards the dock.

“Were sardin’ right,” she muttered, giving one last look to the alcohol left behind. “E’erythin’ I do is outta spite.”

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Wed Jul 17, 2019 5:53 pm

Dearest Lionel,

I know I won’t send this anyway, so I’m not so sure why I even bother starting it this way. But writing what I am feeling and doing has always been easiest when I feel like I am speaking to you, so I beg your forgiveness for using your memory in this manner. You have always been an ideal I knew I could never reach, even when I would lie to myself and tell myself that it did not matter. And I used you most terribly, for I felt that if one as wonderful and brilliant and driven could love one such as I, then perhaps it was not so bad what I had done and continued to do.

My abuse of your nature of forgiveness and support is a crime against you for which I take full blame. And I certainly do not begrudge you for leaving. This thrice-damned island is no place for anyone to settle, and I only wish I could take refuge from it as well. Of course, it was not just the island. It was me. And it still is me. So I do wish you have found at least some sort of happiness, with someone who can only give you love and not pain.

I haven’t touched a drop of liquor for three months now. But I am not even on Skal, where I only needed to bloody my blade to keep my mind dull and numb. A sharp mind is at times painful and raw, and I wish I could hide away again, but, well, I’ve been doing what I wanted for years now. I think it’s time I do some of what I don’t want to do, but what I must. Running and hiding only takes that blade I stabbed into my own gut and twists it deeper. I’m done twisting. And I’m done blindly staggering about.

Existing is so different without the haze. I suppose that now is the time for every snide voice to chime in at once to say “I told you so” and I would reluctantly welcome them, for the truth rings through. I am not truly living, yes, but I am doing so much more than the dreary survival that I had told myself was all that mattered.

The dreams are less sharp, however. The haze allowed the Dark Prince to shape my perceptions however he wished, and now that I am not using drink to dull myself and escape reality, the alternative is not so sweet. I can still see Robin, but it is like peering through a blurry glass or looking at a portrait done by a poor artist. There are details that are off or wrong, but I don’t know if that is a fault of my own memories or just that I am less willing to believe in the fantasy I am given.

However, I am no longer trapped by dreams. I know when it is real and when it is nightmare. And oftentimes, my dreams of Robin are so sweet they feel almost sickly and I wake with bile in my throat. It is a sour realization that my refuge can no longer be such.

I still travel to Andunor, though I am more able to carry myself among the monsters and fiends of the Underdark. It is as I learned long ago, most don’t look past the glow of my eyes and the demon-cursed tongue I speak. And if any did seek quarrel with me, well, I have no shortage of names I can speak of familiarly as if they would defend me. It were as a drow once told me, most surfacers who wander the Underdark hold some sort of influence. And I may be a nobody, but if I speak like I know what I’m talking about, then ain’t no one gonna question it.

And there’s always running.

But I don’t really want to do that no more.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Angry and Afraid

Post by Eira » Tue Jul 30, 2019 11:04 am

Blood splattered her armor, coated her face, and dripped from her shield. The ogre cowering before her could do nothing more than that, cringing away from the terrible biting force of the mace. At every strike, eldritch magics soaked into the monster to sap away its will and life. She raised the mace, bringing it down in a final blow to crush through the ogre's skull and in a final, perhaps even merciful, blow.

But there could be no mercy, she reminded herself, standing there among the bodies. Not anymore.

With a grunt, Reena pulled the mace out from the remains of the ogre's head, shaking bits of gore from the weapon. She hesitated a moment, raising her shield arm to brush against one of the spikes. Immediately, the cold knot of fear dug its barbs into the pit of her stomach, and the woman choked, yanking her hand away.

"Nasty thing," she muttered to the mace before securing it firmly to her belt. "Almost prefer th' sword."

She really didn't.

The world despises you. Hates you. But that is something to be embraced.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Angry and Afraid

Post by Eira » Tue Aug 06, 2019 8:41 am

The gates finally burst open with a squealing shuddering crack, the force of the explosion sending her staggering back with a hail of splinters and wooden shards flying past her. A snarl from behind, and Reena flung herself around, her mace cracking solidly into the side of the ogrillon looming, greatsword held high. She screamed in rage, pushing the beast back with the eldritch magicks crackling from her hands and into the vicious spikes of the mace. As she watched, the ogrillon’s snarl faltered and faded, rage replaced with fear and then terror.

It broke and tried to run, its mad dash away from her leading it right into the welcoming claws of the vrock.

The ogrillon’s body thumped to the ground and it jerked and spasmed as the fiend tore into it again and again, letting out a terrible cry of pain that did nothing to penetrate the haze surrounding the woman’s mind. She stood there, numb to the gore at her feet, the mace sagging from her hand as she watched the blood splatter; felt it coat her face and armor.

“Finish it,” she said tiredly to the vrock, the dripping words of the demon-speech coating her tongue.

With a chittering clack of its toothy beak, the fiend obliged, ripping the ogrillon’s head off and silencing the warrior’s panicked whimpering. With a sidelong glance to the warlock, it shook itself and feasted.

Reena swayed and staggered back, the haze and her weariness strengthening. She looked down a moment to the battered and rusty chain of her armor, and an oath slipped from her lips at the wooden shard lodged in her stomach. Carefully, oh-so carefully, she trudged over to the wall of the cave and leaned her back against it with a scrape of armor and more pained oaths. She blinked once, her eyes almost refusing to open again before she stubbornly shook her head to banish the haze and welcome the awakening pain.

“Sa ya jus' gotta...” she muttered to herself. “Ain’ nothin’ ye ain’ done before, righ’?”

Her hand moved to place the mace at her belt, but when she let go, it merely clattered to the floor and rolled away some. Her helm clanged against the stone of the wall as she dipped her chin up to force a laugh. How useless she was without magic.

Digging through a set of thin holsters at her side, she withdrew a wand, eyeing it a moment and poising its tip next to the lodged piece of wood. Shaking her little shield free of her arm, she reached down to grasp the shard and slowly, excruciatingly, draw it from her side. Her lips moved silently, repeating the wand’s command word over and over as the blissful wash of white magic knit her flesh and organs back together and cleansed the splinters.

When her hand finally lowered, wand hanging slack, there wasn’t even a scar. She shuddered. Weeks, months, of healing in a matter of seconds. Possibly it would have been her death. But it was magic in the first place that had caused the wounds, and… Reena shook her head, letting the metal of her helm scrape against the stone and fill her ears with the harsh din.

Hells.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Angry and Afraid

Post by Eira » Wed Aug 21, 2019 8:35 pm

“How long d’they expect me ta stand here?” the woman muttered to nothing in particular, the heavy weight of the chains pulling her down as if she were meant to kneel. So of course she stood, her shoulders aching with the strain, and a shard of pain lodged somewhere in her skull as the chanting continued to grate away. She coughed once, an attempt to clear her throat of the rasp that seemed to constantly linger beneath her words, but her voice became no less croaking than before. “Introspection t’what end?”

She knew, of course. And not even having the comforting excuse of drink to blame her actions on made this all the worse. Reena almost wished she had gone through with the paltry attempt at a threat. At least that would have given some satisfaction; though the results would have been much worse. So much worse. The woman groaned and leaned forward, pulling against the chains.

“Foolish thing,” the silken voice drifted through her thoughts, and Reena shivered as she felt the familiar tightness around her neck. “Are you really so lost that you turn to them?”

“Yer ain’ supposed ta be able ta reach me here,” she forced the words out through the pain in her throat. “Th-this ain’ a place fer ya.”

“Here?”

And the woman looked around the room, blinking a few times. “How- wait, no, this ain’- It kinnae be.”

She was seated on a couch in the back room of the Nomad, a cup of tea clasped between her hands and a blanket over her lap. Across from her, in the pile of pillows, lounged a shadow. It watched her, its cheek resting on one six-fingered hand. Reflexively, Reena flung her cup at the shadow- and then the cup wasn’t even there anymore. She wasn’t quite sure if it ever had been.

“I don’ want yer dreams.”

The shadow did not move, did not speak.

“Yer jus’ playin’ wit’ me,” she growled at it. “I know ya ain’ realla him. I ain’ importan’ ‘nuff fer him ta actualla take ana sort o’ notice o’ me.”

Reena looked up to the ceiling and groaned, leaning back against the sofa- and nearly fell backwards as there was nothing but empty air. She skidded on the ice under her feet, falling with a thud and rattle of armor.

The woman let out a bark of a laugh as she just lay there, chill of ice creeping up through her armor. “Oh, sa ya jus’ wan’ ta humiliate me, issa that it?” She raised her head, letting it fall back with a thump. “Pike off, fiend.”

Reena opened her eyes, her body held up only by the chains wrapped around her wrists. The droning voices chanted on, and the woman groaned awfully as the spike of pain in her skull seemed to thud ever deeper through her. She coughed once, shifting to the side so she could pull at the neck of her armor to loosen it around her throat. And yet, her breath still labored, something still gripping her neck.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Finale

Post by Eira » Thu Dec 12, 2019 9:46 pm

Dear Robin,

The thought of seeing you again after all these years, for the longest time, has been all that drove me forward. I continued to hope and dream, to tell myself that someday you would be in my arms. Someday I could touch your face. Someday, I would hear your voice. Someday, we might sing together once more.

I’m sorry.

I was too weak for this dream. For us. Even if you had waited for me, I couldn’t make it back to you. For years now, all there has been was pain. Even after I turned my back on the Martyr, praised Bane with some of the worst cursed and evil people on the island, I thought there would be some end to the pain. I thought I could run and hide from it forever, as I had all my problems. I thought that if I could just survive long enough, I could forget about it all and just return to you, laughing away whatever had happened like we always did.

I’ve lied. Murdered. Cheated. Stole. Everything you believed of me, everything my family believed in, they were nothing to me in the end. I wanted to be good. But I don’t know how. I’ve never known how. I made an oath to be better, to atone; but even if I succeed… where does that leave me? I’m still cursed with being me.

On this island, I met a man. For once, not one of the many lovers that I sought refuge in; to fill the emptiness that I hoped could be pushed away. But I met him under the guise of someone so horribly opposite from me, I hoped he would never see the truth. The real me. The painful disappointment.

He never did, but not for lack of trying. He poked and prodded for months; years even, trying to see through the shell I had built. To his credit, I don’t think he, for one moment, believed the lies that I had allowed myself to. I nearly gave in. For once, I cared enough to want someone to know the true me. Without the mask or the disguises or lies. Someone that wouldn’t want to hurt or control me or use me. Someone that didn’t require me to be better or worse. Just, me.

And I wanted the me that he could know to be a better me. To break the chains. All of them. To maybe not be such a shameful disappointment. To be someone that… one would actually wish to admit they knew or spent time around. To completely leave the past of the miserable alcoholic that tried to hide from the world in a series of countless bottles and bad decisions.

I wanted that so much; I can’t even describe now the ache I felt to hope more for that than I had for anything in the past twenty years.

That man is dead now. And that hope died with him.

I thought for a time that I didn’t deserve life or to be happy. That I could just shut out all my emotions and force myself to a dreamless sleep with drink until I was called upon again to live the world as a construct. I thought being content was okay. That as long as I didn’t admit the pain, everything would be alright.

But, if that were true, why would him being gone from this world break me so? The construct is gone. The name Elaine, everything that it meant. My history with the Black Hand; the countless lies I fed myself just to pretend I was

Robin, it hurts so much. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to make choices anymore. I don’t want to be anymore. I’m so alone. I wish Ilmater could forgive me for everything I’ve done. I wish you could forgive me. I wish I could forgive me. How can I possibly make it all better when all I want to do is give up? I can’t be saved. I don’t deserve it.

No matter what I do, I will be a disappointment to someone.

I just want it to be over. Even if what they say is real; if my soul truly will be tortured for eternity in the Abyss, I deserve every bit of it.

I love you so much, Robin. And even if you’re not here, I found someone else to love; that once loved me too. And when I ask him, I’m sure he’ll end my life.

The island will be a better place without me. I am sure of it.

You will never see this, most likely. But I still want you to be well. To live a life of freedom as we had always dreamed of. I was willing to do anything to be free; I hope you are able to succeed.

Farewell, my heart,
Reena

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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