Motives

Re: Motives

Postby Dulcie » Mon Jan 21, 2013 12:40 pm

The use of Kals's name caught her attention, and she'd regard the woman for a moment suspiciously. How she knew was certainly suspect, and it was obvious on her face that she was trying to put the pieces together.

"Ocean Walker, Yes." She said, offering up the name that she had given Kals herself. She seemed to consider the new information, her body still poised and tense, as every muscle in her body seemed to wait for a command. The woman had spoken to Kals, and that in itself perhaps offered some degree of understanding. The description of his stubborness sounded like him at least.

In one quick movement she seemed to make her decision, her weight rolling off the balls of her feet, her back straightening until she was posed in a more civilized position, standing strong and tall, but no longer quite as threatening as she had been.

"I do not wish to hurt the other humans." She said, referring to the slaughterhouse description that the woman had given to her. But a compromise was offered and she'd nod her head in agreement. It was a short motion before she'd begin to stalk forward, the movements slow and mostly unthreatening, but there was still no mistaking the power that lingered in those limbs, as she moved to follow Ariane.

"I will listen."
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Re: Motives

Postby Waldemar » Tue Jan 29, 2013 4:48 am

The miller steps sharply back at that abrupt movement, well out of arm's reach for all that the archer remains bound for now. He is by nature a prudent man, cautious and considered, and he'll not tempt fate - or the madwoman's teeth - by lingering too close at her bedside.

"Be still." Peevish in tone, irritated by her constant and futile struggles; the scraping and rattling of the bed drowning out sounds from beyond the room, sounds which may be important. A moment's consideration, and with a glare at the madwoman he steps towards the door to hear more clearly, making sure never to place himself between door and bed.

Voices in the corridor - muffled by the flimsy wood of the door, but a to-and-fro conversation in tones meant to be heard at some distance. No shouting. No screaming or snarling, no splintering of wood or bone. Just approaching footsteps and quieter voices.

The miller hesitates briefly before reaching a decision, and stoops to tug the chair from where it is wedged under the door handle and stand aside, against the wall. If things are resolved then well and good. If they are not then he will make his exit while the intruder is busy with the prisoner.
Nothing so bold as a miller's shirt, that every morning collars a thief.
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Re: Motives

Postby Cinnabar » Tue Jan 29, 2013 4:52 am

For their part, the Constables step aside to let the wild woman follow the Marshall, falling in behind the pair of them; the truncheons remain in hand, just in case.
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Re: Motives

Postby Caile » Sat Feb 02, 2013 10:23 am

It is obvious to those entering that the woman had been struggling again in the short absense of the Marshall. Fresh blood oozes from old wounds, sweat shines upon her brow and she is breathing as heavily as her injured ribs will allow. Her teeth are still bared, snarling at the man no longer near her bedside and her eyes watch him with a mixture of fury and terror.
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Re: Motives

Postby Carnath-Emory » Sun Feb 03, 2013 5:49 am

Solemn things, these two women; even-eyed despite the disparity in their heights, and quietly-spoken despite the problem that's brought them both here, and the very bloody business that it might just now have become. Perhaps it was the mention of Kacela's mate that soothed some of the violence from the taller woman's frame. Perhaps it was something else altogether: the corridor's growing silence, the willingness of two Constables to place some distance between she and themselves. There's no way to know, and no need to, either.

"Thank you." It is a fleeting smile, sudden and small; turning upon one low heel she leads the other woman back the way she'd come, and the heel of her hand knocks that door open to reveal -

"Oh."

It's very nearly a groan.

"She's worse than she was to begin with." A hard, thin glance across the room; the deliberation is brief, the decision almost immediate. "You - " and the grey gaze cuts sidelong towards the miller. "Ser Waldemar. Your business here is done; good day to you, our best to that boy." A tilt of her pointed chin indicates the doorway; this is not the halfway conversational thing he'd spoken with minutes earlier. This is very much a Marshall with limited patience and a small capacity for compassion, and eyes which know a wounded animal when they see one.

"This is not for you." The Constables, this time. "You hold the corridor, and close that door behind you." Wolf in a trap, tearing at its own legs. Strange faces on all sides; strange voices, too, one on top of the other; a bloody, hurting chaos. No. They will begin like this: by emptying this room of what's not absolutely essential, calming it by a systematic policy of subtraction. No millers. No constables. Just two women with their solemn eyes and their very different intentions.

The slighter of two has lowered herself to eye-level with the prisoner, a loose-limbed crouch that doesn't quite place within reach of - teeth, say.

"I know," she begins - slowly now, quietly, "that you can hear me, that you speak Common. I know that it hurts," a terse glance, "and I can have them fetch something for your pain.

I would like you to tell me about Her."
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Re: Motives

Postby Dulcie » Sun Feb 03, 2013 9:00 am

There was fresh blood in the room, fresh blood of someone she wanted to kill, and as she began to growl a deep, inhuman growl it became apparent just how strong that desire to kill was. Kacela's position would change again as she saw the woman struggling in her bloody bonds, lowering partially into a crouch, her head extended forward a little as she bared her teeth which had gone from looking perfectly straight and human to the pointed beginnings of fangs.

Her eyes were lit into a bright amber shade as she turned her head back to Ariane and growled in a voice that was barely hanging on to any sort of human speech.

"Make her speak fast." She had no intentions of waiting very long at all.
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Re: Motives

Postby Waldemar » Sun Feb 03, 2013 11:10 am

The door opens, the Marshall enters.

"Her struggles, sera. She's beyond caring." Not so unsubtle, not so dull as to draw suspicion by offering a denial of blame for the madwoman's hurts; merely an explanation, borne out by what lies before them if they spend even a moment noting how the prisoner tugs and wrenches her limbs against those bonds.

The wildwoman enters close on the Marshall's heels, however, and that is incentive enough for the miller to accept that curt dismissal without protest. A pause, a mere moment's hesitation as he considers speaking a warning to the scarred woman, but on consideration he judges it best instead to make use of the door while he may. So a nod to Ariane, and one last look for Maria; steady, dispassionate, though with a small curl of satisfaction to the corner of his mouth.

By the time the Constables leave the room he is halfway along the hall, cane thumping swiftly on the floorboards, entirely intent on quitting this place with all haste. What happens next is no responsibility of his.
Nothing so bold as a miller's shirt, that every morning collars a thief.
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Re: Motives

Postby Caile » Sun Feb 03, 2013 12:40 pm

She stilled when the women entered, breathing hard, shallow and with a very unhealthy bubbling sound. There was some bloodied spittle upon her lips, she was again in the position of dying if she was not soon seen to. There is something about the calm that the Marshall speaks to her with that seems to draw out the humanity the lingered deep within those eyes of hers but then there was an animal growling at her and her gaze shifted, her own teeth bared once again and she growled in return. The slim trace of humanity fled, nothing but wild beast remaining.
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Re: Motives

Postby Carnath-Emory » Wed Feb 06, 2013 4:56 am

As such things go, allowing a vengeful werewolf into the blood-soaked sickroom of a murderer was likely not one of the Marshall's most inspired ideas.

"Oh, she cares." Parting words, spoken to the miller's retreating back - but her eyes were for that struggling woman, and remain so even as the door closes. There she'd crouched and there she stays, and when she moves at all now it's to dab her sleeve-cuff against the creature's blood-flecked chin.

"She'll say nothing useful if you growl at her." Across one shoulder, then: for Kacela, who keeps her distance with admirable restraint; under such circumstances, the swordswoman imagined, she might not do so well herself. But... "Look at her. She's already lost everything worth having, she surely knows she's dying; she'll keep her silence just to spite us." Pursed lips then as she regards this thing, this damaged, tattered thing, which she first met as a shape upon the forest floor, caught between a furious Catch and a curious Niall -

Not an enviable predicament.

"Our surgeons might yet save you." The girl, now, fixed beneath the quiet gaze of cool, grey eyes. "The Constabulary might yet heed you. I am willing to send word to Lamai." Whose name the girl had whispered like a prayer, like a dirge... "But you'll give me something first. You'll justify this. You'll show us you're more than spitting, growling spite.

Or what I send to her reads that a mad thing once shouted her name, and now it is a corpse."
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Re: Motives

Postby Dulcie » Wed Feb 06, 2013 2:22 pm

"You need her words not I." Kacela growled back at Ariane, her eyes flashing with that bright amber color. She'd move then, and were she not stopped she'd begin to pace, back and forth near the bound woman's bed, sniffing at the air and the scent of the blood, something that only seemed to inspire further low, rumbling growls in her throat. There was restraint for now, but it was quiet clear that wasn't going to last. Fingernails were beginning to stretch and pull into the beginnings of claws, and subtle changes were starting about Kacela. Fur where bare arms had been, a slight change in the shape of her nose. Changes were coming if the wild woman wasn't given reason to stop.
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