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Post by Ariadne North on May 27, 2011 14:34:57 GMT -5
 ~Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own~ She was sat in a side street, huddled between two dumpsters, wet hair plastered to her face, the strands dark against her pale skin. Heavy droplets of rain water trickled down her forehead and cheeks, smudging her mascara and eyeliner, causing it to form intricate tear patterns under her eyes. Her body shook despite the warmth in the air, and her slim arms were wrapped about her knees, drawing them into her so she was in an almost fetal position. She glanced left and right, eyes desperate, searching, wide as if she'd seen a ghost. Her front teeth bit down hard on her lower lip, splitting the soft skin, leaving imprints and causing a single droplet of blood to rise, blossoming and spreading over pink flesh. Her heart beat so hard she could taste it, feel it pounding at her rib cage, threatening to leap into her throat and choke her, a feeling that only worsened when she heard them again. Their shouts were getting closer, and while their voices were distorted by the heavy downpour of the tropical storm, she knew what they were saying, and imagining it was enough to cause her eyes to well up. In all her nineteen years of life, she had never been so scared.
They had attacked her without any warning at all. She'd been alone, shopping in a cheap metro store, picking up a few essentials for the road. Ft. Lauderdale wasn't exactly a tourist trap, and she'd been merely passing through. She'd parked up, gone to stretch her legs, looking to get out of the drivers seat for a few hours. She found the shop, browsed, purchased, and then headed back outside to be confronted with a monsoon, the air so humid the clouds had no option but burst. She had been soaked to the bone in seconds, her clothing drenched and hanging off her, unable to take being so waterlogged. Wanting to get back to her car, to shelter, she had taken a random side street, believing it to be a shortcut. She had believed wrong.
Rather than it taking back to the lot where she'd left her old, useless shit heap, it had taken her to a labyrinth of alleyways, none of which she recognized or knew, and she'd walked aimlessly, hoping to find a way out. She hadn't. Rather, she found a gang of rather rough looking men, who had wasted no time in surrounding her, one of the group idly flirting with her in a thick southern drawl. She'd told them nicely that she had somewhere to be, and they had offered to take her. When she'd refused and tried to push past them...well...things had gone horribly wrong. The guy who'd talked to her had grabbed her bags, both her purse and her shopping, and shoved her rather carelessly away from him. Not expecting the move, and having no substantial weight, she had stumbled back, and would most likely have fallen had she not landed in the arms of one of the others. He had groped her for a moment, before hurling her to one of his friends who promptly did the same.
It was at that point Ariadne North had started crying, wondering why she had ever left home. Back in Kansas, when she was working with her mother, she'd always been safe. Since she'd run, she'd nearly been arrested, had not a full night of sleep in weeks, and was now being mugged, perhaps raped. Not that she even had the time to lie on the floor and regret her past actions. She was too busy being given to each and everyone of the posse. However, the one who grabbed at her last made a mistake, and rather than take her wrists like the others had, he'd wrapped a single hand around her waist.
In a moment of desperation, she had driven a stiletto-ed heel into his foot, and then flailed her arms wildly, trying to drive her elbows into his body. He'd been surprised at her ferocity and let her go. She'd run like the devil was at her heels, blind, no idea where she was going. Their jeers had followed her. Not knowing where she was, in a land foreign to her, she'd tried to hide rather than get more lost, knowing that in her clothing she couldn't outrun them long. Squeezing behind the dumpsters had seemed smart at the time, as it got her out of plain vision.
In hindsight, though, as their voices and maniacal laughs got louder, she knew it hadn't been smart. She knew they were going to find her, and she knew that she'd be powerless to stop them this time. She wracked her brain for some kind of spell that would aid her, but she drew nothing but basic illumination incantations, spells to chill water or fry meats. She'd never been good at offensive witchcraft, and unlike her mother who could total a car with the flick of her wrist, Ariadne could just about stay herself from fainting while beheading a dandelion. She'd pray, but she believed in no God, and so resorted to crying silently to herself, shoulders shaking, pressing her face into her huddled thighs.
When a shadow descended upon her, and a hard voice greeted her with 'Hello precious', she didn't even lift her head. She didn't want to see the face of the man, or rather men, who would break her. |
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Post by halfpint on May 30, 2011 10:57:08 GMT -5
 Half Pint ran a hand through his soaked, shaggy hair. Tilting his head back, he let the warm rain fall against his face. It was a good feeling, refreshing. His clothes would be soaked for a while, but that was all right. They needed to be washed anyways. He had enough money to clean em’, but he didn’t want to waste the dough. Half Pint eventually wanted off the streets so he was saving his cut that he made from the Sect, only buying necessities like food, gloves, and medicine.
The back alleys would be crowded today from the rain. People would be trying to hide under overhangs or under whatever shelter they could find really. Rain was gonna get worse before it got better. Half Pint could feel it in the air. It wasn’t anything magical. He just knew by the feel, the way the air smelled, and the look of the clouds. They were getting substantially darker as they moved inland from the ocean. Thunder was already in the distance, a low rumble of mother nature’s anger.
Normally Half Pint wouldn’t pass through the alleys on days like this. It made him too easy a target. The only problem was he had to get to the clinic before they closed. He was low on his meds. Going without seizure meds, even for a day was basically begging to have a seizure. If he took the long way he’d never make it, so his only other option was to cut through the alleys.
Pulling up the hood of his jacket, Half Pint shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his head low as he walked down the alley. It would take about ten minutes this way, better than the half hour or more to go the long way. Despite his head being low his gaze was searching, watching for any predators, human or otherwise that may lay in wait.
At least Half Pint had a few precautionary items that would help. For one, he had a knife. It was best to have one when you were constantly on the streets. For two he had a juju bag that Mikey had put together. Nine years old and the kid was a prodigy when it came to magic. It came easy enough to him and he often made things to protect the members of the sect. He explained that if Half Pint were to throw the juju bag at someone, or someones the powder would make them hallucinate their worst fears for long enough for Half Pint to get away. It was his emergency stash.
Half Pint turned down another alley, knowing his way through the winding network like the back of his hand. His steps had brought him there just in time to see the group of men groping a woman. Half Pint stopped, not wanting to draw attention to himself at the moment. There were more of them, one of him. He hated to interfere in anyone elses business, but their intentions were clear, and it was clear she didn’t want any part of this.
Pulling out his phone, Half Pint texted Aidan the man know he was probably going to need some help. The truth was the Sect ran these streets. A lot of people didn’t know that, but they found out eventually. Aidan was a fire starter and he could be here with in ten minutes. Half Pint would have to distract the men till then.
He was just about to walk up on them when the girl managed to make her escape. Half Pint was shocked actually having not expected her to fight back from the way she had been cowering. That was good though. She’d been smart, and the men shocked momentarily. Enough time for her to get away. Except then they gave chase.
“Son of a bitch!” He growled it low and took off on foot after them.
They found her easily enough cowering behind the dumpster. One of the men went to jerk her out. Half Pint stepped out of the shadows. “Hey!” He threw his hood back so they could see his eyes. “Let her go, yo!” |
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Post by Ariadne North on Jun 3, 2011 6:27:45 GMT -5
~Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own~ With her eyes squeezed shut, she cowered into herself, waiting for a punch, a grope, a grab...just something that would hurt her. Her whole body tensed, her slim frame almost folding in on itself, she tried to edge further into the gap, not that she could. Ariadne's back was firmly pressed to the wet stone wall, and she could feel its rough surface, course on the lower part of her exposed back, clothing pulled up due to the way she was huddled. After the spoken word 'precious' had reached her ears, she'd winced, and had known the attack could only be but seconds away, unless they liked watching her weak and powerless before them. It was, of course , entirely possible. They had enjoyed showing their dominance, hurling her between them like some kind of rag doll, taking turns to feel her. Perhaps it would be the same again. The thought caused her to let out a choked sob.
She waited, held herself, waited... but nothing happened. No one grabbed her hair, no one tried to pull her clothes off her, or drag her to her feet. No one whispered at her, no one used their gravely voices, dropped a tone as if they had consumed too much honey and grit. They had...left her alone?
The shadow she knew was above her shifted a little, as if it's attention had been caught by something in the distance. But what? She had not heard anything, although admittedly, she had tried to block out every sound about her, and the rain helped in drowning out the voices of even those stood close. Cautiously, as if in doing so she risked being beaten, she opened her eyes, and found the man looking away from her.
Her senses went into overdrive. She widened her gaze, tried to peek out from her position behind the dumpster, but was too afraid to do so. It would take her too close to her former assilant. So she concentrated hard on listening, hard, trying to hear everything over the sound of the rain. At first, nothing, but as seconds turned into fully fledged moments, something caught her ear. Another voice, angry, defiant, although much less gravelly than the attackers. The message was simple. 'Let her go.' Someone was trying to save her.
She did not have long to celebrate, however. The moment that she had processed that someone was trying to save her, the moment all attention was back on her. Closer to the mugger/would-be-rapist than she had been, he merely had to reach out, knot a fist in her hair, taking a hand full and pulling, and she was pretty much powerless. Her hands shot to the first curled at the center of her head, her hair held tighter than it ever had been, and she tried to prise his fingers off. It was no use. He took a few steps away from the dumpster, quite literally dragging her across the floor with him, her stumbling, feet unable to gain any purchase on the wet ground. The attacker pulled her further and further into the open, causing her to yelp and cry in pain, each jolting movement sending an intense stabbing sensation into her scalp. He finally had her on her knees at his side, head pulled into his hip, so she was turned facing the way he was.
Through a haze caused by both tears and the downpour, she saw the group that had man handled her, all spaced out, looking down the alley toward a fairly tall, shadowy figure, no doubt the one who was trying to stand up for her. Her heart raced, and in that moment she owed every gratitude to that person, someone who was trying to do something to aid her... even if their plight was hopeless. They were out numbered, a few of the thugs bigger than them, and she was fairly sure they weren't about to scare five fully grown men away, no matter how strong they were. She was torn between telling them 'thank you but run' and shouting 'help me' at the top of her lungs.
Yet she could utter no gratitude nor plea. The man holding her dragged her forward a little, yanking hard on her hair, causing her to scream feely. Behind her, somewhere, she heard that man's southern, honey gravel voice again, although this time there was a challenge in his words.
'You mean this little slut?' She felt him pull a little harder on her hair. 'You gonna make me, boy? You gonna come over here and make me let go of her?'
~Outfit~
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Post by halfpint on Jun 5, 2011 10:30:14 GMT -5
There were several problems with Half Pint's powers. One was that his main power, the one he could use while he was awake, was passive. He could see past, present, or future, but he couldn't do no damn harm with it. Right now he very much wanted to do harm to these men. The girl was in obvious pain. Their intentions were clear. "Damn straight," Half Pint said taking a step towards them. He rolled his shoulders and looked around at them. At the very least he could keep them distracted until Aidan got there. Aidan's power would definitely put the fear of God into them. Half Pint just needed something of theirs. A hair, some blood, whatever, and then his most potent power would work when he slept. He'd haunt their dreams, literally. He'd make them real and cause them nightmares they'd never imagine. When they woke up they'd have all the damage Half Pint would physically inflict on them within the dream world. "Let her go, man." Half Pant's gaze was fierce. "Five against one don't seem fair. You need your lackies to do your work?" That seemed to piss the ring leader off. Scowling he thrust the girl to his buddy by her hair. Half Pint inwardly winced in sympathy for her. His face was neutral though as the bastard walked towards him. Half Pint would fuck him up. Gladly. Tall, stinky, and ugly stalked up to Half Pint and through a punch. He ducked out of the way, and brought his knee to the dude's stomach. The wind was knocked from him and he doubled over. Half Pint took the opportunity and through an elbow to his face, knocking him to the ground. Thrusting his booted foot to his gut, Half Pint growled. "You ain't nothin' but a fuckin' bully you piece a shit." He kicked him again. The ring leader wasn't too happy with all this. "GET HIM!" Oh shit. The rest of them advanced on Half Pint, except for the one holding the girl. He got in a few decent punches before Half Pint was on the ground. It was all a mix of punches and kicks from there. A blur of pain as they viciously assaulted him. His vision started going wonky and HP wondered where the hell Aidan was when he heard a scream. Suddenly two of the guys were no longer on him. Aidan was standing not far from them, fireballs in both hands. His lip was twisted in a snarl. Two of them ran upon seeing it. The other was slow or dumb, or maybe both. Half Pint grabbed his ankle when he went to kick HP in the stomach. He twisted his leg, brought him to the ground rolled over, ignoring the pain as he elbowed him in the gut. Having been used to pain, it was easy enough for Half Pint to stand up. The ring leader was still on the ground. Half Pint went over and delivered a kick to his face. Then he knelt down beside him. "Tell your guy to let the girl go." Fear mixed with the anger in the man's face, but he nodded to the other man who roughly shoved the girl forward. Half Pint stood and caught her so that she didn't stumble face first into the concrete. Aidan stepped forward, hands still set a flame. "You ever come after someone on these streets again. I will end you." With that he shot the fireballs at the men's feet. They took off down the alley. Half Pint looked in the girls eyes. "You all right, ma?" |
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Post by Ariadne North on Jun 8, 2011 12:04:30 GMT -5
~Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own~ As the boy spoke to the pack about her, Ariadne could feel her heart go out to him. Despite the pain that clouded her senses, the dull throb that pulsed through bruised knees, knocked body parts, and the sharp agony that tugged hair braught to her scalp, she was aware enough of her surroundings to know that her tentative saviour was alone, alone against five men, and thus risking his life. She tried to get a better look at him, to see if her early appraisal had been right, to see if he was bigger than she remembered, but in anger at the other's defiance, her captor had pulled her head back hard, so all she could see was the rain, heavy droplets falling directly into her face.
They exchanged a few words, and she was surprised at how sure of himself the hero was. He spoke with unwavering calm, tinged with anger, and seemed more in control of his emotions than the animal that had a hold of her. She winced as he issued a challenge, wishing the best for him with every bone in her body. The guy didn't deserve to be beaten, didn't deserve to be hurt, and if he died trying to protect her, what could happen if he failed would be all the worse. She'd have to live knowing she'd been brutilized, and that someone had been brutilized on her behalf. Again she wanted to say something, to shout, maybe even distract the thugs who could still rush in and aid there leader, but again her voice failed her. Trying to talk was like trying to cough up nails, and all she seemed to be able to manage were pained whimpers.
But the challenge seemed effective. Male pride cursed through the man who had a fist in her hair, and he quite literaly hurled Ariadne across the foor to his friend, who caught her under the arms, wrapping one arm around her neck, the other about her waist. She was more free to move, and gave struggling a quick try, but the lock the fatter, smellier man had on her quickly tightened, thick forearm closing about her throat. Ariadne couldn't resist, and she knew that if she tried, she would lose. An attempted escape would lead to him choking her, and easily. A rough hand found the back of her head, and she felt herself being pushed forward, her gaze being angled toward the two opposing fighters. Then, in her ear, a voice - “You gonna watch your boy get fucked up.”
How she wanted to tell fattie that this do-gooder wasn't her boy, that it was just some random guy. How she wanted to say that she'd not struggle if they let him live, if they didn't break every bone in his body. But she couldn't, fixated entirely on the punch thrown by the leader of the rapist muggers. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sickening crunch of breaking bones. But it never came. Peeking out from behind closed lids, she saw her protector dodge the blow, deliver a sharp knee to the stomach, following the entire ordeal with an elbow to the face. He finished off with a few gut kicks, spitting insults at him. How had he...
There was no time for celebration. One had got what he deserved, but in turn, the others decided it was time for retribution. She could only watch as they descended on the seeming victor like a pack of wolves, knocking him to the ground, punching and kicking at his prone body. He lashed out, but he didn't stand a chance. Watching in horror, the girl refound her voice; 'NO!' The sound surprised her, a raw shriek that sounded far away, yet close and all-encompassing at the same time. Had it even been her voice? It surprised the man that held her even more, and then she screamed again, the same word but louder, and started thrashing as best she could, trying to elbow his sizeable gut, hair falling about her face, temporarily blinding her as she writhed this way and that. Then he tightened his arm around her neck, and it was all over. He voice was cut sharp, as was her breathing, and she ended up making an almost wretching, gurgling sound, her throat not ready to be compressed as it had. Her body almost instantly went limp, and she struggled to breathe against the hold, and it started to panic her more than she already was, her heart racing.
She was, in fact, so paniced and so blinded by her hair that she did not at first see the dramatic turn of events. Aidan arrived, and two men were gone before she had noticed. Even when she heard a gruff, muted grunt, she figured it was the saviour taking his last set of breaths. So, imagine her surprise when she heard a familiar voice, even if it was only recently so, telling a formerly beaten gang leader to let her go. A rough shove at her back surprised her more, and the scent of sweat fast evapourated, the arm restraints around her gone. She sucked in a lungful of clean air, choking heavily as she was released, and thought she'd fall. Yet something, someone caught her, a firm body propping her up.
Inquisitive, she only too a moment to recover before she pushed her hair from her face, allowing her to better see what was going on about her. The attackers lay decimated. Only two remained of the original five, the leader and her latter man handler, and they were well on their way to disappearing. And no wonder. They were confronted by a towering man, snarling wickedly, both his hands wreathed in...fire? Ariadne blinked at such a sight; in her training as a witch, she had seen some amazing things, but she had never seen that... he was an enigma, but she was in no mood to try and dwell upon it. She wanted to smile as he threatened them and threw flames at their feet, still wondering how on earth he managed such a thing, but she was too weak, still in too much shock and pain. That didn't stop her inwardly cursing the very ground they walked on though.
A voice finally dragged her gaze away from Mr Fire, back to the man who had, undoubtably, saved her life. She was still leaning on his, and she made no move to get up as her big, sea blue eyes scanned his face. She stared at him for a long moment, then wrapped her arms around his neck and clutched herself to him in the tightest hug she had ever given. “Ohmigod. Y-you saved my- you...thank you so much!”
Her sentence with broken with pauses and stutters, voice breaking under the heavy sobs that she now felt she could reveal, drops as heavy as the rain streaming from her eyes. All the while she clung to him, the guy that risked himself to save her, and she knew then and there that she would never be able to show him the gratitude he deserved. “Thank you thank you thank you”
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