A/N- lost my yellow lighter, but do not fear, for I am now in possession of a rather huge box of matches. Just thought you might be interested………..
Oh yeah, on a more literary and far more relevant note, for some reason I am finding it far too easy too write from the point of view of an Orc, it just seems to be what is the flow, and seeing how I am not quite sure who the girl is yet I find it an odd concept to write from her point of view. Let me know if you think it is working. (or not as the case may be)
Vass x
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And so she lived yet. The world had turned, the seasons altered, and he had watched the moon, a beacon in the violet of the winter sky wax and wane many times with no thought and less regard for the girl whose mutilation had been sole his purpose for so long.
She had disappeared.
He thought her perished, if he thought of her at all. It was of little consequence of him, just another stinking corpse to litter the already putrid hollows of the sewers. But, Orc though he may be, Shuklagl was not stupid. That was a common misconception many who he had crossed paths with in his lifetime had been in possession of. They lived to regret it, but not very long.
No, he knew now that she was a creature no longer to be disregarded.
The door was not locked this time, nor was a torch needed in order to see within the enclosures of the chamber, it had windows. It was not a cell. And she no longer a prisoner.
She was by one of them now, the blue grey light of the winter sun seeping through it making Shuklagl blink and refocus his gaze. He hated sunlight, yet she seemed unaffected by its brightness. Its haze caressed the curve of her cheek and cast her long limbed shadow onto to the floor in streaks of ebony as she stood, legs slightly apart and arms clasped behind her back. Like a soldier standing at ease. Her eyes, unlike the blank vessels of his memory, now brightly alert and narrowed as she gazed out onto the rolling hills and vales which lay outside the seclusion of the walls.
That was the first thing he noticed, she was standing. The second was that she was clothed. Her breasts, already small, were bound close to her body with burnished leather, wound round many times and over her shoulders but invisibly secured, so it appeared to be a whole garment rather than just a loose strap of cloth. From the shoulders extended sleeves, weaved of thread so fine that the gleaming ivory of her skin was visible through it, like a spider had painstakingly entwined a intricate cobweb of his finest silk to follow the curve and dips of her sinewy muscled arms, describing not the rather simple pattern of their usual hexagonal template, but rather motifs and symbols of circles. These adorned the long reach of her limbs to the wrists wherein they seemed to disappear beneath the hard wearing fingerless gloves which served as a covering for her elegantly tapered hands.
On her lower half she wore breaches of the same highly worked hide as that which held tight her bust, the leather so well fitting that it clung to her legs like a second skin, making visible the well formed and well used muscles which now rippled beneath them. Although diminutive in comparison to the orcs, it could not be doubted that the length of her legs held a long stride. She wore no boots, her only foot covering being more of that same flexible cloth, snugly secured around her lower leg, crisscrossing as it laced itself around her calf and entirely encompassing her whole foot so that only her toes were exposed to the air
Her navel was bare, its alabaster sheen a stark contrast against the black ash of her attire. And on it the mark, like a brand, still snaked its way up her abdomen, sliding under her clothing and coiling threateningly around her throat, a sinuousness scythe of thorns.
But for all that she might as well have still been naked, for even beneath her coverings every small twitch of her new strength, of muscles that had not existed when she was no more than a shivering wretch, seemed only accentuated .
Shuklagl could see every slight straining, tensing, as if she was not encumbered at all the weight, not restricted by the hold it had on her bare skin. She was free to move exactly as she pleased, and for some reason that seemed to be a slight unnerving thought. Someone, his master, had gone to so much trouble to ensure that her raiment was one which allowed her complete flexibility. Not usually a consideration when clothing a woman, but then again, he was sure that her purpose was not to be that of a lady. The glisten of her still bone white scalp, although clean and healed, still void of all hair vouched for that.
He had doubt that she had heard them enter, for they made no effort to remain silent Indeed they fairly trudged in, the clang of metal upon metal as their weapons jogged against chest plates so audible, but she did not acknowledge their presence, only kept her eyes and body turned from them, and he got the impression that hers was a vigil she kept for many hours, maybe even days.
Finally, after many moments of heavy silence she spoke, her voice a low pitched alto that he did not except to come from one who appeared so young, the black speech rolling of her tongue like a small eddy of a wave breaking upon a clean white shore. her utterance of what he considered to be his own mother tongue seemed to make the words, that language created for those who lived in service of the shadow, almost melodious, her voice undulating as a swell, lilting with every syllable
"You have come to take me to the courtyard"
It was not a question, but a statement, and Shuklagl resisted the urge to take a cautionary step back. This could not, couldn't possibly be that same skeletal being whom had writhed at his feet in pain, that pure snivelling and delirious soul that he had took such delight in constantly degrading but a year before. Her voice was so sure, so commanding, and she had an air about her that, for the first time in his memory, actually struck fear into his very core.
The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, as if repressing a smile, as if she heard his thoughts.
"Good. I have long been in seclusion, as Shuklagl knows well."
His companions glanced at him in apprehension, they were not the same party that had been responsible for her those long months ago, all those who had been present at the ritual had been slain on duty. Except him.
The shadows that had been thrown on the marble of her cheeks rippled across her face as she slowly turned her head and eyes to appraise with a keen glance the three bowlegged and grey skinned warriors who at the moment shared her small room with her.
And again she restrained a small, secret smile. She knew not what made her wish to do so, but their reaction to her, their almost resentful respect gave her a rush of unexpected enjoyment. They were afraid, and she was breathing it with absolute gratification. But it soon passed, as if it were the burnt out shy shell that disintegrated and crumpled in upon itself with the slightest hint of a whisper from the wind. She moved to the small cot hard jammed against the far wall, opposite the door, nothing more really than a bale of hay wrapped in white linen. Upon it Shuklagl could discern the recognisable shape of armaments, a long, sensuous curved sword among them. But it seemed that was to be left behind, for she handled only a set of modestly sized knifes, which fastened around her waist on either side so that they rested in the dip just behind her hips.
She turned back to face them, and as before, clasped her hands behind her back. A soldier standing at ease, waiting for a command. Or, as Shuklagl saw it, a commander waiting for the subordinates to carry out an order.
Lozghud, taking this as defiance moved towards her and roughly grabbed to upper part of her arm. She froze, and for all his attempts to boisterously pull her toward the door, she would not budge, but a horrible sneer crept upon her face and her eyes started to swim with an unnerving blackness. She bore it for a few minutes. And then snapped.
Her right leg came from behind him and swung round in a smooth half circular motion, connecting with his legs as it did so and throwing the unsuspecting soldier of his feet and into a sprawling mess on the floor. His head connected with the stone in a sickening crack, and Shuklagl saw him spit out a couple of teeth. She used her foot to roll him onto her back, then placed it delicately upon his neck, perfectly balanced and poised, fire in her eyes. Lozghud did not move, his mouth in an almost appreciative snarl.
" I think you misunderstood me….fine sirs, I wish to go to the courtyard, it is at my own discretion that I do so, therefore you have no need to forcibly escort me…gentleman."
Pulses were running high. Resentment seared on all sides. Her tone was scything; it washed over him like sickly warm syrup, stuck to him. She had them, just where she wanted, without even seeming to try she had taken complete control of the situation. Still had her hands comfortably clasped behind her back, she had the whole time.
Lozghud was allowed up and she gave him a small one sided smile, it almost looked innocent, the smile of a child who knows when they have done something pleasing.
"Shall we?" then she pushed past them and out in to the cool of the corridor, not waiting for an answer and acknowledgement, or even to be shown the way.