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Post by pao on Jul 9, 2020 15:42:56 GMT
Nova ran, his feet hitting the ground in such a hurry he nearly faceplanted a number of times. Brambles caught onto his clothes as he ran past bushes, branches tore at his hoodie, and roots tripped him up. Searching over his shoulder, he tried to catch a glimpse of the person chasing him, but he nearly ran into a tree when he wasn't looking forward. Nova clasped his hands together, focusing his powers to use them on the person attacking him. The person got closer, close enough for him to toss the orb of collected energy at the person. Except it rebound on him and when it did he fell down the ledge and rolled down the hill. He ended up at the bottom, beaten up, his powers having hit him instead of their target, but safe from the person chasing him who paused at the top of the hill and looked down on him. They ran when they heard a noise, someone else was coming this way. So they scrammed, leaving him for dead.
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ian
Member
They / Them
eastern standard time
waywardwander#0201
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Post by ian on Jul 9, 2020 16:33:26 GMT
This forest was her forest, or at least that's how she viewed it. Perhaps not the entire expanse of never-ending trees, as somewhere around she knew the shifters resided, but the woman had at least some confidence that she would be left alone if she stayed in these woods. It was part of the reason she had returned here; her family's cabin in the woods was remote and that remoteness had always provided the Arcenceaux's with a sense of protection from the darkness that lurked just out of their grasp. It was because of this that when she heard the sounds associated with the fight, she was immediately put on edge. Had she been found? Was she not as secure as she had intended to be? It was her impulse to stay inside, to close the blinds and bring in her familiar, to avoid the issue entirely. Something told her that this was not acceptable, though, the voice in the back of her head that had been passed down through generations. Her grandmother had once told her that it was the voice of her ancestors, all of the women who had come before that specialized in the arcane magic that was passed through the line. She was inclined to believe it; after all, she had no doubt about what could be passed down in the blood in her veins.
Sybil let out a soft sigh as she braced herself to exit her little cabin. She paused for a moment at the mirror that stood next to her door, the same mirror that she had to pause at every time she left the house to convince herself that she did, in fact, have to leave. The woman who stared back at her was almost unrecognizable to her; her hair was pulled back tightly off her shoulders, but not in the braid she had once been taught. Instead, it pulled into a bun that jutted out the back of the low-set hat. She always tried to look as innocuous as possible when she left her house, although there was always some sadness that came with it. To hide herself from the world was a grave injustice to herself, but the world was a cruel place.
She offered a click of her tongue to alert her familiar to her side. The raven, who she had sent to check the noise out, hopped through the open window, and Sybil gave herself one nod. Whatever was out there, she would be safe. "Come on," she murmured to it, before she opened the door.
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It didn't take her long to find his body. Concern flashed in her dark eyes as she hesitantly came closer to him. He looked to be in rough shape, and although the fearful voice of reason told her that it was not her problem, she found that the other voice, the one that compelled her forward, was stronger. She moved to his side, before kneeling next to him. Her hand, always slightly warmer than one might expect, reached for his wrist to find a pulse. Whatever he had gotten into, it had given him hell.
She let out a soft noise. At least he wasn't in a situation to hurt her, she supposed, as she pulled the water bottle from the bag she never left the house without. He would need more than this, of course, but she could bring him to her garden to heal him once she got him to move, at least if he wasn't strong enough to go to the nearest hospital on his own.
Her shoulder then moved to his shoulder, where she placed it delicately. This was more physical contact than she'd had with another person in a long time, although she tried to ignore this mostly. "Excuse me," she called quietly, trying to bring him to conciousness without spooking him. "Sir?"
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