Post #1511111 in A Song of Ice and Fire, a roleplay on RPG

[Ffffffffff, long post. >___o /huffs/ I have somewhere to be now, but I'll be back in the evening. :3

Warning: Torture scene in Sirena's post. By Aesir's and Ama's suggestion, apparently Raban has sent a man to follow Sirena and Ammon. He gets caught... and well. Tee hee. >:3]

;; Nasrin Cavendish ;;

“Getting out is easier said than done,” she admitted. “Believe me when I tell you I’ve tried—but it ended up the same way. You can beat yourself against the cage, but your bones will break before the cage does.” She hated the fact that she had, in the end, given up the dream of freedom. Trying to get out would only hurt her, and more importantly, make things worse for her mother. That was what her father had told her; that he would take care of her mother as long as she behaved. If she didn’t, then her mother would live in a rat-infested ditch for all he cared.

To protect her mother, she had to stay here. But she could never see her—never know for sure that she was alright. She had to trust that her father would keep his word, but it was impossible to really do that. He was a noble, one who would do anything to keep things in his favor. She didn’t know what to do anymore, just feeling trapped and frustrated. She only knew one noble that was not like the others here, but she was far away, not here, not here. If only she was—if only she was here. She had made court less of a viper’s nest for her.

Nasrin a small smile tug at her lips at the thought of Dante as some courteous knight—the thought of it! “You, a knight?” She supposed she could see it. But she had to say that his dream was such a childish and sweet thing—to crown his sister, a cripple, the Queen of Love and Beauty—touching and rather sad. “I never had any siblings,” she said slowly. “Lady Cavendish had many children, but they died from illnesses, so I don’t know what sort of love you feel for a brother or sister. But as much as you may find it silly now, it’s still a precious thought.”

Hearing about something he had dreamed of as a child and about his fear was much different than anything he had told her before—not like the compliments or even some of the kind things he had said. It was like he was making her see some of the vulnerable side to him. It was…a new thing to experience.

“I doubt you’d ever become world-weary,” she told him. “After all, there are plenty of women in the world.” She quirked an eyebrow; though she was in essence, telling him off about his ‘womanizing’ ways, she wasn’t speaking badly of him. No, that seemed far off to her right then.

They came back to the start of the garden, having walked the entire loop of the path. It was time for her to go back and tend to her business, and he his. She knew that—and she briefly wished she didn’t have to. Talking to him was probably the most stress-relieving thing Nasrin had done in a good while. “I feel better. Your distraction worked well,” she said breezily, though her silent thank you was definitely there. “It’s not very much like me to say thank you to a man more than once a day, so I’m refraining this time.” She smiled though her usual attitude back in full. It was true, she felt…much better. She bid him farewell and left, the bruise on her cheek forgotten despite the burning.

--

Nasrin was sitting in her chair, book in hand when her door creaked open without a knock. She looked up with surprise, but it cooled into a stony face once she saw who it was. Her step mother in her full regalia stared down at her, her cold greed and pride molded into her face. “What do you want of me?” Nasrin asked. She never came up to see her or attempted to speak to her unless it was a snobbish comment about her being a whore’s child.

“Nothing, child,” the older woman said, her words shockingly tame. “I just wanted to see how you were faring. I know you and your father got into a little…quarrel earlier.”

Nasrin blinked, but her expression stayed as blank as a mask. “And what of it?” This was suspicious and strange. Her stepmother was never like this. If anything she would have screeched at her and called her a self-righteous bitch for speaking to her husband that way. What were these...ill-intentioned sweet words supposed to mean?

“Nothing, nothing. If you are well, I will leave you,” the thin woman said, a smile spreading on her face before she closed the door and left. Nasrin sat in silence, a forbidding feeling rushing over her. Something was wrong. That woman was…gloating—but over what? Over the fact that her father had slapped her?

She wasn’t sure, but there was certainly something bad underfoot.

--------------------------------------

;; Sirena D'Airelle ;;

Sirena realized that there was a separate presence other than them the moment she felt Ammon’s uneasiness. A dangerous spark entered her eyes, a mix between cruel amusement and lethal intent—oh, this would be fun. “Mm…” Sirena murmured in response to his quiet warning. “I agree, the workmanship on the floors couldn’t be finer,” she answered in a breezy tone, a coded agreement to his suggestion of a lesson. They didn’t do anything at the moment, but kept on walking as if nothing was the matter, chatting amiably about the decorations or other trifling matters.

“Let me do the honors,” she whispered inaudibly, her smile looking more and more feline as they walked into a secluded hallway with no on around. And of course, the dimwit trailing them followed—by the Seven, that man was a fool. When shadowing someone, you had to be sure that they had no ill intent for you—especially if they were skilled killers.

They stopped at the corner, silently lying in wait for the man to catch up to them—her lips curving into an ever-existent smirk as he took the step he would regret for the rest of his short life.

With the speed of a panther she whirled and snapped forward, her fingers grasping the collar of the poor ninny and throwing him against the wall harshly. She was deceptively strong, stronger than anyone would have given her credit for, and quick to boot. A dagger came to her fingers nimbly and she shoved it into his open mouth, grazing against the flesh of his inner cheek but not harming him in any way that would prevent him from speaking. “Well, well, what have we here, Ammon?” she purred, shooting him a coy look. “If I were you, I’d keep quiet,” she commanded the man, tilting her dagger slightly to make her point known. “My friend and I here…we love talking to each other, but we don’t like blather mouths too much, mm?”

The caught man squirmed, pathetic whimpers coming out of his mouth. Red flooded his mouth from the cut in his mouth, and she slowly withdrew her dagger, an unreadable expression on her face. The man started to let out a shaky breath of tense relief, but Sirena only smiled as she knocked him out cold with a vicious blow.

--

The cellar was damp and smelled murky, but Sirena did not mind at all. Once you stayed around Bloody Mummers, you got used to most filthy smells—many of them didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘bath.’ She and Ammon had taken the person who had been following them to one of the many spacious wine cellars. Sirena gave the man a sharp kick to the side, to which he groaned and started to come to. She shot Ammon a look; they would have to find out who had sent him after them.

“Who the hell are you two,” the man croaked, looking up at them.

Sirena laughed, twirling the dagger in her fingers. “Are you going to tell us who sent you after us?” she questioned, stepping on the man’s chest and shifting part of her weight onto it. The man let out a cough, but said not a word, the clench of his jaw grim. “Oho, so you’re the silent type,” Sirena chuckled, her eyes not quite able to match up to her light-hearted tone. “Maybe I can help you with that, hmmm?” she unceremoniously plopped herself onto the man, pleasantly wrenching his jaw agape. “Your teeth are crooked,” she said reaching out and grabbing one of his front teeth, slowly twisting it until the tooth was hanging by a shred of a gum, ignoring the frantic cries from the man. She nonchalantly moved onto the next one, taking her time as she turned it angle by angle. Blood stained her slender fingers but she paid no mind, drinking in the pained visage of the man.

“Come, come, tell me.” She whispered, as if speaking to a small child. “A name. It’s only”—a twist—“one word, you know…You can still talk without some teeth.” She tapped at his bottom teeth with the tip of her dagger as if to contemplate how much force it would take to dislodge them—and without warning, slashed at the tender and raw gums where his front two teeth had recently been. The man let out a shriek, lurching underneath her, blood flecking his cheeks, his bound limbs spasming.

She carried on relentlessly, grasping another tooth and pushing and twisting torturously, pricking at the gum with her dagger. “This here is Circe, my second favorite blade,” she told him rather professionally over his cries. “And then there’s Nimue, and then there’s…Lilith.” She sliced at his gums with each name, his shrieking becoming interrupted by his choking on his blood.

Sirena started to go for another tooth, but her captive stopped her with a strangled shout of assent. “..R-Raban…it was…p-prince Raban…” he coughed out, bloody saliva trickling out of the side of the young man’s mouth. “He thought…the two of you were…s-suspicious….”

Sirena glanced to Ammon, an amusement all over her face. “That little princeling is smarter than I gave him credit for,” she half-laughed. “No wonder One-Eye wants him dead; he actually has a head on his shoulder, unlike the others here.” She found this hilarious—that little boy that was half her age, sending someone to find out about them when his father the king had believed them so easily—oh, it was precious! She looked back down to the bloodied man below her, smiling, satisfied. “Thank you for that, dearheart.”

“Please…just let me go,” he rasped, “I swear by the Seven…I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, we can’t do that, can we? Sorry.” She grinned, yanking the man up from under her and shoving him in Ammon’s direction. “He’s yours now,” she smirked, knowing what was going to come. She had her fun, now he would have his—something she had no problem with whatsoever.

--

Having control over someone’s life was a high that she did not let herself indulge in so often. She loved fighting, and was ruthless as could be when killing, but something like this was a bit different. It sent electricity down her nerves and got her heart thudding. And right now, that was exactly how it was, dangling that lackey over the ledge of the large window with only a whim that kept him alive for the present. They were in the tower that was high above the ground, much more than a height that could simply break a neck. The man let out broken sobs, jumbled pleas for his life; and all she did was smile. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other—you seem like such a nice man. Loyal, too…” She briefly loosened her grip on his collar, drawing a panicked squeal from him. Her eyes glinted deviously, her voice dropping to a whisper. “…Or not.”

She gave him a little shove and let go of his collar, watching him plunge to the cobbled patio below. Her eyes danced, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as he burst in red. Oh, the beautiful red. “Everything just gets better and better,” she laughed, turning to Ammon and kissing him. “I was right—this is going to be fun. Very, very fun.”

Truth be told, as long as she was next to him, everything was fun.

Snippet #1511111

located in Westeros, a part of A Song of Ice and Fire, one of the many universes on RPG.

Setting

Characters Present

Footnotes