Activity

@obrian-of-the-surface-world

Thanks for the run-down, Rose.  Much appreciated. Still orienting a little…

You’re welcome! I’ll add notes if there’s something that needs explaining.

Okay, so if I do get into this character’s mind for the sake of this exercise, you all understand that this is not me, right?

I know the Forum rules, and will shut this “being’s” mouth off in a nano-sec before it says “anything” that might violate the Castle decorum.

I do that in my own WIP too, but this thing is more monster than man, and its wildness makes it unpredictable and it is given to instant rage without any provocation.

Well, my character is currently trying to murder someone, for the second time, so who am I to judge? XD

It is a tricky thing, writing about villains and monsters, especially since they have to do villainous things. Anyway, it’s tricky, but I would say all the characters here (except maybe Karayan and Meira) are either thoroughly evil or extremely morally gray (like Chantara) so that happens.

Also, it’s going to be so interesting to release a somewhat monster-like character in here, especially now, with two characters wounded.

@skylarynn

Ooh, nice save! I like it!

Chantara

Anger and pain throbbed through me, competing to control me. I pressed my knee harder onto Þorunn and brought my left hand up to finally kill her. Good riddance. Any scum foul enough to harm a Pawn without a good reason deserved to die.

(Context: Pawns are the servants hanging around. Everyone controls them equally, they’re like extras. Þorunn threw a glass at one earlier and it got Chantara riled.)

An arm grabbed me from behind, yanking me off Þorunn with more force than I’d expected. I gripped the knife, barely managing to keep a hold of it. I flipped it around in my hand, preparing to stab backward. I wasn’t going to survive this, I’d just hope I could take my attacker and Þorunn with me.

Instead, my attacker pushed me away, keeping a secure grip on my collar. I dragged backward, trying to yank myself free. The person didn’t budge, barely seemed to notice. He had gotten between me and Þorunn. I gritted my teeth, trying to push the flecks of red away from my vision. Pain throbbed through my shoulder, sharpened by my struggle.

“Now wait a moment,” came a harsh whisper. It was Karayan. Who was he to interfere? I tried to shake myself loose with a snarl, but Karayan was entirely unimpressed. His grip didn’t even loosen.

I tried to think around the throbbing mist of fury filling my mind. Should I try to kill him as well, or at least kick him away? He was far heavier and likely stronger than I was, and so far, he had shown me no ill will. There was no way I would win. Not yet. Perhaps later.

“This is insane.  If any of us are to survive this castle we should do as it says. Not attempt to murder each other in the dark.” He hissed. I knew that remark was directed at me, even though I couldn’t actually see him.

A low, sharp growl came out of me, an obvious threat directed at both of them. At that moment, I hated Karayan more than I ever had, and Þorunn even more than that.

I had no interest in surviving the castle, and even less in obeying. I didn’t care whether I died today, or tomorrow, or a year from now.

“Now cease this foolishness before I incapacitate you both myself,” Karayan snarled.

I gave a laugh so sharp it grated my throat. Either the pain or the rage had taken my judgment. I could barely think through the red mist.

“Was that a threat or an offer?” I hissed, under my breath. “Don’t make offers if you don’t want me to take you up on them.”

Karayan squeezed my wounded shoulder, either by accident or to make his point. The pain flashed across my vision, red morphing into white, and white fading into black.

My mind faded into nothingness, only to be brought back with a blaze of pain as Karayan let go. My knees buckled and I barely managed to stagger backward.

I kept my fingers locked around my knife, but I faded back into the darkness, finally finding a wall. I leaned against it for support. My breath came in short rasps.

It was always like this after an assignment. It would be worse soon. I needed to find somewhere safe, or at least private. If the lights came on now and the others saw how vulnerable I was, I wouldn’t have a chance.

I inched along the wall, blindly searching for a door. Would the castle punish me for not participating in its challenges? I had tried. I had failed. I was in too much pain to care.

I finally found a doorknob and pushed it open blindly. The other side was as dark, but smaller. I could barely walk a step inside before I bumped into a shelf. A linen closet, or something of the like. I shoved the door shut, and found a latch. Relieved, I slid it shut. Even if this was a trap, it couldn’t be more dangerous than outside.

I crumpled to the floor, my arm a dull, unbearable ache. Nothing I could do. If my shoulder wasn’t set, it would grow back wrong. If it didn’t heal properly, if it left a noticeable deformity or in any way remained weak, I would be cast out of the Siya. Probably demoted to the lower spy group. I couldn’t let that happen.

Nothing I could do.

The adrenaline drained out of me and sickness settled in my stomach. My mind replayed everything I had done, each awful detail. I had stabbed someone, the blood was still all over my dagger. I tried so hard to kill her.

Over, and

Over, and

Over.

It never got better. No matter how many times I’d done this before, it never got easier.

I buried my face in my uninjured arm, stifling my scream in the rough fabric, still warm with blood. It was so muffled that I only heard the barest sound, and it wouldn’t be audible beyond the door.

I screamed until it felt my lungs would burst.

________

That was extremely melodramatic but I don’t know what else to write, so we’re ending with Chantara being excessively dramatic in a linen closet. LOL