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'Cause there's no poison after all
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An Ami meets a Sable under less-than-favorable circumstances
3.07-tired
Ami
never-collapse
Sisters
Permalink

Ami was prepared. She was prepared for a witch—that was what the job said would be here. What she wasn't prepared for was four witches and a damned battle construct. Now, lying here in the dark, she can only wait for the end—or maybe for whatever horrific torment is planned to precede her death.

She'll tell them whatever she knows: no pay can seal her lips when she's already slated to die—that's why they don't tell mercenaries anything—but nothing she says will keep their tortures at bay. She's heard the stories; seen the pictures: no-one survives a witch interrogation intact, no matter how much information they give away.

So she lies there in the darkness, on the brink of death, hoping beyond all reason that they slip up, and she dies before another witch can ever see her face.

Posted
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Haughty
Sable
doesn't-wilt
Pirates
Permalink

Clack. 

Clack.

Clack.

A woman approaches, her heels clicking against the stone floor.

Posted
Side-eye
Sable
doesn't-wilt
Pirates
Permalink

It's such a pity that the corporations keep throwing assassins at them. Such a waste, spending lives on their doomed quest. Nearly two hundred years that this society has been trying to stamp them out, and it hasn't worked yet. 

She walks closer, gazing down at the girl they sent to kill her sisters. "You deserved better than being sent to die," she murmurs.

As she fills dying mercenary's vision, she can see the witch is wearing a flowing dress of midnight purple, stars twinkling within the depthless fabric, graceful robes of the same sleek fibers draping open over her shoulders.

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3.07-tired
Ami
never-collapse
Sisters
Permalink

Ami says nothing, leaving her eyes closed. The witch can probably tell she's awake, but there's no point in falling for the bait.

Posted
Cool-wary
Sable
doesn't-wilt
Pirates
Permalink

A wave of her hand floats the helpless mercenary off the ground, feeling like a gentle hammock of soft fibers supporting every part of her body individually and keeping everything aligned. Including where her lower leg is hanging on by a few tendons.

Things seem to hurt a bit less as she floats along after the witch, the pain muffled gently by some kind of magic.

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3.11-sad-set
Ami
never-collapse
Sisters
Permalink

The pain receding is enough of a surprise to her that she lets out a small sigh before she can stop herself.

Damn. Well, if she's given away that she's awake, she might as well open her eyes.

She looks down, getting as good a look at her executioner as she can from her prone position.

Posted
Smile-over-shoulder
Sable
doesn't-wilt
Pirates
Permalink

"Done pretending, are we?"

The witch is tall, even taller than her, with vibrant purple hair tumbling down her back in thick curls. Her eyes, when she smiles gently over her shoulder at the mercenary, are a vivid shade of orchid, the irises glowing faintly in the gloom. Her robe and dress are such a deep purple as to seem sewn from the night sky, complete with faint twinkles in the fabric remininscent of stars. A hat of the same material sits atop her head, rising to a point, with a broad brim around the base. Heeled ankle boots adorn her feet, off-black leather polished to a gentle gleam.

She appears to be taking the mercenary down a stone path through the woods, trees arching overhead in an interwoven canopy.

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