Purity's Hand
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Caustic on 15-01-2007, 13:11:53</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 13:11:53</strong>
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				<strong>Intro Part 1: Written by Alehendra.</strong><br>The Kingdom of Aravania is ruled by an iron-fisted despot King Aerick the Coldhearted with the backing of the Aravanian church.&nbsp; The clerics of the church are said to employ dark magics in order to keep their powers. The wealthy and the poor of the kingdom alike are oppressed, and slavery is rampant. <br><br>Katernin Tamsyn (or Kat as she is known to those who are close to her) was the youngest of five children born into a wealthy family.&nbsp; Her siblings were all boys and in a society where only males can inherit land and property, her only prospect for the future was to be married off to a landed and hopefully kind and decent husband.&nbsp; Her parents were of a progressive mindset though, and Katernin's father ensured she was taught to read and write like her brothers.&nbsp; In addition, she learned to ride and fight with sword and bow, although these were highly unconventional skills for females to learn.<br><br>Because she was raised to think for herself, Katernin had a hard time finding a suitor she could put with (or one that could put up with her).&nbsp; By the time she was 20, she had not only decided she would never marry, but she had left home and joined a group of rebels that are secretly plotting to overthrow the crown.&nbsp; The group's methods, for the most part, were non-violent, but they were implicated in the death of a prominent cleric in the church during a violent clash in the streets.<br><br>Most of the group members were killed during the struggle, but Katernin escaped.&nbsp; There were witnesses who described seeing her at the scene, and she became a fugitive from justice, although she and her group had nothing to do with the violence.&nbsp; Now she is trying to make her way through the Borderlands, the dense and wild forest that grows between Aravania and the neighboring nation of Demesnay.&nbsp; If she can make it to Demesnay, she may have a chance for a new life.<br>----<br><br>Physical description:&nbsp; Katernin stands&nbsp; 5' 5" tall and has deep red hair that falls in a cascade of waves to the middle of her back.&nbsp; Not that anyone would know this, since she generally keeps it bound up.&nbsp; Her dark blue eyes display a keen intelligence, and she is a survivor, well practiced with her weapons, particularly the long sword.&nbsp; As of late, she has generally been disguising as a man and staying away from major roads, travelling with merchant caravans&nbsp; and working as a guard in order to try to make her way to Demesnay.<br><br><strong>Intro Part 2: Written by Caustic</strong><br>According to the tenets of the Aravaian church, King Aerick and his cronies are going to hell.&nbsp; What they call seizure of state property, the church would once have called persecution and exploitation in its vilest of forms… murder, theft, coveting, rape… but in these finest of years, the church’s materialism and human fallibility has made a bloodied ragdoll of its ideals, and no sanctity remains. <br><br>The church’s Purity Hand has been formed to suppress rampant corruption, drawing its wandering fold back to the sustenance of the church’s breast with the steady force of a meat grinder.&nbsp; Many of its roster—sworn faithful chosen by god for their integrity—share their duties with other guilds and ranks in society… land barons, assassins, crime syndicates and blood cults—once hunted by the state for their brutal practices.&nbsp; Their effectiveness cannot be denied; no one dares oppose the church, nor the state, without risking every property they possess, including their bodies and lives.<br><br>Among the Purity Hand, several Faithful remain from the days before King Aerick’s rise to power.&nbsp; Loyal still to the church, they serve unquestioned and unquestioningly.&nbsp; Those who have risen in revolution against the internal corruption of the church have been crushed—publicly through excommunication, then permanently via public execution for blasphemy, or perhaps assassinated with the gentle grace of a snuffed candle.&nbsp; In recent months, however, the hounds have been set free upon those who question, or admit insecurity within the state.&nbsp; Blood-mawed gangs of thugs ravage, at will, in the name of god.<br><br>One of these Faithful is Mathias, scourge of Rialta.&nbsp; Orphaned in his infant years and raised by the Abbey at Rialta (which was purged, two years prior to this telling, for blasphemy), Mathias was named and made by the church.&nbsp; Well educated and raised for a humble life as a monk and scribe—should he accept it—his youth took a drastic turn when the armies of Aerick were depleted.in the Border Wars. <br><br>A bloody series of campaigns to crush the godless savage peoples of the continent—once left alone—for ten years, the tribal peoples were ground into the ranks of salvation by the bones of their dead, and were washed clean with the blood of their forebears.&nbsp; It is estimated that half of the savage peoples remain “civilized” at the end of this subjugation, but the toll was a hefty one… Mathias, and many thousand other boys his age… were pressed into service in the war machines of King Aerick’s army. <br><br>Mathias knew the blade then, and could never forget.&nbsp; His flesh became a map of his fall from grace… whipscars from his resistance to the orders he was given to kill, woundscars from every near-fatal slip before the enemy that took place in the bloody mud of the western realm, tatoos and markings of the church where he proclaimed himself one of the Faithful—the knotwork of the church so that, even if bloodied, slain, and dismembered, the parts of his body would be recognized as one of god’s chosen killers.<br><br>Made Scourge in his native Rialta, Mathias hunted the demon-tainted for four years before Arick’s government found him again.&nbsp; Impressed with his work, they began to provide him new assignments through the church… their own agenda, of course, was the focus.<br><br>Now he has turned over several ‘blasphemers’ to the state… no Inquisitor, his only purpose is to scour from the earth the enemies of the church and of god’s purity.&nbsp; But his faith has been rattled, over and over, by the deaths—at the state’s hands-- of the kind priests and Faithful who raised him, of the gentle people of the kingdom who only questioned—not rebelled, but questioned—the state’s agenda. <br><br>Mathias has heard of rebellions in the South, of armies forming against the State… but to even think on such things—except to destroy them—could be fatal.<br><br>*******<br>Mathias is only 23 years old, but has seen more of death and corruption than men who live to be one hundred.&nbsp; His eyes are a virulent grey, his hair long, thick, and black as a raven’s wing.&nbsp; He rides a dappled grey stallion when necessary, and always wears a composite of black steel and leather armor he had crafted in the Western realm by a master smith in what he described as ‘the old way.’&nbsp; He was not the tallest, nor the strongest, warrior… he is disciplined and shaped by a life of hardship-- compact, lean, and hungry is his way… but he is driven by a fire within, not simply the power of a suitable frame for battle.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 20:31:09</strong>
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				The early morning sun filtered through the trees and the mist that had settled over the forest during the night.&nbsp; It only provided feeble light through the thick trees, and even feebler warmth.&nbsp; Katernin pulled the hood of her cloak up higher, and crouched down next to the campfire .&nbsp; As she warmed her hands, she thought about how close she was to escaping the tyranny that had settled over Aravania.&nbsp; But she did not allow herself to feel too hopeful; that was a luxury she could not allow herself until she'd actually stepped onto the soil of Demesnay. She turned swiftly as she heard a step behind her, and stood quickly when she saw the leader of the small caravan she'd been travelling with, Aleric Sevay.&nbsp; A gray-haired man in his late 40s with two days' growth of beard on his chin, Aleric had turned to smuggling goods after his wife had been killed during one of the riots that occurred regularly in the capital.&nbsp; The blame for her death, he placed squarely on the shoulders of the King;&nbsp; He was the only one who knew the truth of both katernin's identity and her reason for fleeing and he sympathized with her cause and her plight.&nbsp; As far as the rest of the caravan guard knew, though, she was a young boy who was suprisingly well trained with a sword.&nbsp; Some of the other caravan guards speculated that she may be a deserter from the King's army.<br><br>A few terse words are exchanged and then Katernin makes preparations to continue on with the caravan.&nbsp; Travelling is slow, as they have kept off the few roads that ran through the Border Forest.&nbsp; Aleric knew he would face charges of treason if caught, not only for bringing his cargo of weapons to the neighboring kingdom, but for harboring a girl wanted for the murder of high ranking cleric.&nbsp; He didn't particularly care.&nbsp; He nodded to Katernin and then made his way to the head of the caravan to make preparations to move on.&nbsp; Two more days travel should see the small group safely in Desmenay.<br><br>Katernin grabbed a small shovel from the wagon and began to cover the fire with dirt.&nbsp; She worked quickly but with care.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 21:52:17</strong>
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				The gray of dawn seeps moisture from the black, ferny ground like the breath from the expired.&nbsp; As it curls in&nbsp; the morning air from great rifts in the ground, cooling the moss and loamy earth, a lump of soil&nbsp; shifts not 100 meters from the camp as Mathias lifts the front flap of his cover—a sheet of earth and lichens spread carefully atop his black cloak,, like a blanket of the earth itself, camouflages him into the earth like a rap-door spider&nbsp; Blade in hand, he watches with frosty gaze as a wood-gathering caravan guard pauses to urinate a few feet away.&nbsp; The steam rises and the caravan guard leans back, unaware, his head lolling with grogginess.&nbsp; He has no wish to kill him, but is set to do so.&nbsp; <br><br>The guard finishes, his stud-riddled armor smelling of stale sweat and wood smoke, and begins the grudging trek back to the caravan, intact.&nbsp; Mathias watches, picking his quarry from their ranks after the momentary distraction, his breath coming slow and steady as he allows in fresh, dewy air to the smothering blanket of cover he has laid under for the entire night.&nbsp; Her blazing red hair is easy to identify at this distance, and though she is careful, she can’t mask entirely the femininity of her movements, the deft grace with which anything with a blade fits her palm.<br><br>He has been watching her for days, waiting for his opportunity.&nbsp; He has no wish for a fight, or to interfere with this delivery of weaponry… despite the illicit nature of the cargo, it is not his mission… not his right… to go forth where he is not sent, or to deviate from his orders in the least.<br><br>His orders were clear, imparted with a lash from the firm hand of father Da’etara… bring her to him, untouched and alive.&nbsp; If not possible, bring her corpse as intact as possible, and without decay… he wanted her flesh intact.<br><br>The hours of limited fresh air or the hunger and dehydration… or perhaps the thought of the Father’s thick tongue crossing his wrinkled, pale lips… twisted his stomach in a wave of nausea.&nbsp; <br><br>She was beautiful… eve dressed as a lad, she would be sought by artisans as a model…. The most lovely, feminine youth, with a fierce, passionate anger in her crystalline eyes… she was lovely in ways Mathias had come to revile, for they were not for him.&nbsp; <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 22:51:59</strong>
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				Her task finished, Katernin returned the shovel to the caravan.&nbsp; She spoke briefly to another caravan guard, a tall, sallow-skinned youth with dull yellow hair.&nbsp; His eyes did not convey a depth of intelligence but his six-and-a-half foot frame was all muscle and he looked like he was very capable of wielding the greatsword strapped to his back.&nbsp; The young man let out a short laugh at something Katernin said, and then moved away from her to see to the horses at the front of the caravan.<br><br>Preparations for the continued journey commenced. In all, there appeared to be four caravaners, including Katernin.&nbsp; As the other three finished the tasks of feeding and watering the horses and making sure that the tarp covering the cargo was secure, Katernin began to scatter the stones that had made the fire ring and to gather fallen needles and twigs to scatter over the area.&nbsp; At one point, she was within a few yards of Mathias, but she showed no signs of noticing his presence.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 23:25:49</strong>
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				A soft sigh is his only sign of emotion before he sets himself into motion… his muscles ache, despite his efforts to keep blood flowing to the limbs through slow movements.&nbsp; His blade drags at his side as he slowly rises from the undergrowth, leaves and moss becoming form as if a golem rises from the flesh of the earth, his movements feral and careful&nbsp; as he whispers his way closer to her.&nbsp; His thoughts flee from her form, from her task, from the pursuit of her and frustration and fear of the past&nbsp; evenings; his resolve is stone and refuses to accept the urgency, the passion of the hunt… <br><br>He bears a wire garrote, wound gently with leather strips so as not to sever flesh when drawn tight,.&nbsp; He waits for her to rise from a dip below the waist,, then&nbsp; lets the loop hover above her head, its other end wrapped tightly around the leather and steel bracer of his wrist.&nbsp; He grips the pommel of his long sword, the carbon-blacked blade held defensively aloft, but away from his quarry.&nbsp; <br><br>A single prayer flits through his mind, knowing that this deadly girl could finish him… and should she, he wonders if he would mind..?&nbsp; As she rises, he slips the garrote tight, intending t cut off air ad voice to bring her down.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 23:43:16</strong>
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				Perhaps it was the surprising lack of trouble on the journey so far that had allowed Katernin to slip towards complacency.&nbsp; That, coupled with Mathias' stealth, makes it possible for him to be on her before she realizes he was behind her.&nbsp; As she feels herself being choked, her hand does not yet go for her weapon. Instead, both hands go instinctively to her throat, fingers trying to dig at the wire that is cutting off her air.&nbsp; Only a faint gurgling cry escapes her lips and it is not enough to grab the attention of her comrades.<br><br><em>Bandits!</em> This thought strikes Katernin as she is familiar with the King's military and this sort of stealth is not their typical way of doing things.&nbsp; A moment later, she tries to draw her weapon, but her hand misses the pommel.&nbsp; Black motes float in front of her eyes and she begins to grow dizzy from lack of air.&nbsp; Telling herself not to panic, she grabs again at the garrote with both hands, beginning to struggle frantically, trying to kick backward at her attacker.&nbsp; <br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>15-01-2007, 23:55:22</strong>
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				At first, Mathias's confidence is high... he retains the grip on the pommel of his blade, deciding that to risk letting it go might mean certain death... he'd seen her swing a sword, and wanted no part of it... but her struggles cause him to think better of trying to control the garrote one-handed... only a mite taller than the girl, he has little in the way of advantage—even in her surprise, in this position.&nbsp; He stakes down his blade—the hilt wobbling back and forth&nbsp; with tension as he reaches—instead—for her sword.&nbsp; <br><br>He knows that drawing the blade in such a brawl would be impossible… he looses its catch and lets it fall to the earth floor and braces himself at her back, gripping the wire loop with both gloved hands and driving her forward toward a tree with remarkable force… trying to take her to the ground.&nbsp; The sight of her skin reddening, then paling, with lack of air is bitter in his heart.&nbsp; He curses the father and struggles with her, their violence a starkly silent blemish on the serenity of the morning calm.<br><br>His breath in her ear is hot, the scent of him musky and… strange.&nbsp; She lads a kick in his midsection— solidly, impressively—and it feels like striking a tree-trunk at his rigid stomach.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>16-01-2007, 00:08:07</strong>
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				This is apparently not the typical brigand that Katernin has had to deal with during caravan duty. This one is apparently much more cunning and much stronger.&nbsp; She is surprised at how ineffective her kick is, but even more so by the simple way he rids her of her weapon.&nbsp; She watches with growing alarm as it falls, still in its scabbard to the loamy forest floor. <br><br>&nbsp;"Who...are you?" She tries to force the words out, and her lips form the syllables, but the only sound that emerges is a gasping croak. Then he rushes her toward the tree, and she struggles to turn her head, to avoid the full brunt of the impact.&nbsp; She cannot turn it much with the deadly wire around her neck though, and she hits the tree almost head on.&nbsp; The dark spots in front of her eyes explode into a flash of brilliance, and then she crumples beneath him, dazed.&nbsp; The hood of her cloak is pushed back, revealing the red hair that helped to give her away.&nbsp; Blood trickles down from a cut that has opened at her hairline.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-01-2007, 01:44:39</strong>
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				Time is of the essence now, he knows, and he looses the garrote from her throat, winding it around her wrists thrice and slipping it through its own loop to form a tightening knot... he has no mount within three days' walk, but that is the least of his concerns now.&nbsp; <br><br>"STOP!"&nbsp; A man's voice bellows through the trees, echoing across the forest floor and disturbing a flock of starlings from their roost in the sun.&nbsp; Barrelling towards him are two of the caravan guards, armed with crescent bladed sabers and-- from the look of them-- indignation.&nbsp; Barrelling across the acreage between the site and the scene of the struggle, they close in long strides, fur cloaks being shed to reveal steel-rippled leather beneath.&nbsp; A third levels a drawn arrow from his vantage a dozen yards east.<br><br>Emitting the small cough he stifled at the blow she connected earlier... quite a kick for the awkward angle... he drew upright and watched the arrow's flight... it was quite a good shot, and without hesitation he manages to pivot his body so that it glides by, the quills whistling past him like an angered hornet.&nbsp; As he returns to form, he has armed himself again... he lauches a hefty pair of clay blocks, tied together with hemp cord.&nbsp; They whirl into rotation and spin in a rapid, broad circle, catching the first attacker around the neck and wraping together with an audible 'snap' taut... the clay blocks shatter against his head and face, sending him sprawling from the impact... surely unconscious.<br><br>The second, he meets with an end-over-end throw of a kukri blade-- it whirls forth like an end-over-end dart... the heavy blade meeting his thigh and sending him sprawling in a shrieking heap.<br><br>A second arrow flies Mathias' way, this one less well-aimed... Mathias sees its trajectory, a high arc, the barbed tip downspiraling toward-- "God's blood--" directly at Katerin.&nbsp; He dives, hurting her to the ground, and turns in a fury... his heart thumps loudly in his chest as he rushes forward, his head low and his feet carrying him with a wolf's predatory grace over the ragged, ferny ground... an arrow knocked, the grizzled man-- who was kind to Kat-- is knocked sprawling.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>19-01-2007, 04:57:28</strong>
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				Aleric curses as his second arrow misses its intended target.&nbsp; A moment later his bow flies from his hand, landing just out of reach as Katernin's attacker slams into him.&nbsp; Thankfully, the moisture in the air and the recent rains have made the verdant forest floor soft, and although the breath is knocked from him, he remains conscious.&nbsp; He glares up at Mathias and thrusts out a hand, calloused by years of labor and swordplay, trying to smack the younger man in the chin.&nbsp; His other hand goes for his hip as he attempts to reach the dagger he has concealed there. "Kat! Run!" he yells, but he gets no answer from her; the only sounds he hears are birdsong, the pained groaning of the man who still had a kukri embedded in his thigh, and the breathing of this intense young man who seems ready to kill him.<br><br>Katernin does not respond to Aleric, though, because she is still too stunned to make a sound, let alone run.&nbsp; She hovers on the edge of consciousness, and the noises of the fight seem to be coming from a great distance.&nbsp; The main thing she is aware at that moment is the ache in her head like the blow of a well-swung mace.&nbsp; &nbsp;But some part of her sub-conscious is alert and aware of the danger and it urges her to act.&nbsp; Slowly she tries to rise, but she does not make much progress before she drops back down, the throbbing pain in her head threatening to overwhelm her.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>19-01-2007, 05:19:28</strong>
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				Mathias gives pause as he prepares to drive the man's nose into his brain... still enraged at the miss-shot-- careless bastard-- he hestitates.&nbsp; The old man called her Kat, told her to run, knowing his death was at hand.&nbsp; How... kind.<br><br>The old man lands a shot, the angle causing little more than sting on Mathias' ear in the cold morning air, but snapping him from his reverie.&nbsp; Best to finish it.&nbsp; He drew back and thrust his fist thrice-- three quick piston-pumps into the old man's midsection, clearing him of air and leaving him gasping for breath, sputtering for air and seeing stars-- but alive.&nbsp; <br><br>He stands, cracks his jaw and spits, cursing his own ineptitude for having lost control so easily.&nbsp; He turns, feet soundless over roots and grass tufts dried in the wind, and moves closer to Kat, a cold, black silhouette against grey sky and veins of black trunks.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>19-01-2007, 05:28:32</strong>
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				Grimacing against the pain in her head, Katernin again tries to get up.&nbsp; She had heard Aleric's warning but she was so disoriented that she could scarecely tell what direction it was coming from.&nbsp; As she attempts to regain her feet, she notices finally that part of what is making it difficult is the fact that her hands are bound in front of her.&nbsp; Falling back to a kneeling position, she brings her wrists up to her mouth trying to work the leather-bound wire loose with her teeth. <br><br>But then she catches a shadow not made by anything natural in the Border Forest.&nbsp; Turning, she sees that her assailant has returned, and this brings her more to her senses.&nbsp; Her heart pounds in her chest in cadence with the throbbing in her head, and she tries to scramble to her feet, nearly stumbling, the wire binding her hands forgotten for the moment.&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>19-01-2007, 14:03:49</strong>
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				Mathias watches her as he approaches, his gray eyes transfixed upon her face.&nbsp; The hard set of his jaw tells her that he's prepared to end this confrontation with grave finality, and his black-gloved hands hang loosely at his side as he moves closer... the first of the caravan guard stirs, head bleeding profusely, while the groans and curses of the second still fill the morning air, though more distantly now, though accented briefly when he makes a feeble attempt to pry the heavy steel from his bone.<br><br>As she makes her way to her feet, he shakes his head solemnly.&nbsp; "Don't."&nbsp; A strange exhaustion in that word.<br><br>She can see him clearly now... his long hair framing a face where age has left its mark too early, not in the manner of old men but the manner of harrowed men.&nbsp; A shadow of beard on his face, he is besmudged by dirt and old, pale scars, though handsome in spite of it.&nbsp; His looks are like that of an ancient, ivory city that jis enchanting, though haunted by a history of scandals and wars.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>20-01-2007, 00:17:39</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Ignoring his single word command, Katernin continues to try to regain her feet, even though each movement reignites the fiery pain in my head.&nbsp; She looks up at Mathias, her fair face contorted by pain and anger.&nbsp; "Aleric...did you kill him? Because if you did..."&nbsp; She realizes how hollow any threat would be.&nbsp; Her hands are bound, and even if they weren't, this stranger who'd so easily caught her off her guard, was between her and her sword.<br><br>"What is it that you want?&nbsp; Is it gold?&nbsp; We don't have much, but take it and let us be on our way."&nbsp; She glances briefly in the direction of the cart, silently hoping that her comrades were not mortally injured.&nbsp; She would have prayed, but she'd long since given up believing in faith.&nbsp; She regarded Mathias, and her sapphire eyes met his defiantly, despite the disadvantage she was at.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>20-01-2007, 18:09:44</strong>
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				Eyes narrowed angrily, he pans his ashen gaze over the treeline.&nbsp; Ignoring her questions as bluntly as he seems to ignore her, he proceeds to speak.&nbsp; "The fourth..."&nbsp; he trails off, seeing no need to question her of it, or give false hope.&nbsp; He steps toward her and snatches her up, shifting her weight across shoulder with the ease of a sack of grain so that her torso hangs over his back, her efforts to the contrary disrupted by her dazed state.&nbsp; At that he strides off, silent and ghostly over the leaves, moving with the speed of a man at a slow run.<br><br>They divert from the carts' path by a good forty-five degress toward the rising sun, and are soon in the dense wilderness of trees-- their maddening symmetry confusing and frightening-- darting from point to point among thickening canopies of dead leaves stuck in thick clumps among boughs, and wide parasols of evergreen that swallow the light long before the forest floor can drink it in.<br><br>The position makes it difficult for her to resist, but, certainly, she will... he knows that keeping this up is useless.<br><br>After ten minutes or so, a mile or more must have elapsed since the melee, and his breath, at carrying her, has become more labored and audible... though he is far from collapsing.&nbsp; Without warning, he stops short and hurls her from his back... she lands hard, sprawling across the leaves, dessicated timber, and hard, cold ground of the forest.&nbsp; A foot-long blade appears in his hand and he lunges for her, showing her no route of escape as he hovers, ready to strike<br><br>"Listen well..."&nbsp; his voice is steady, oddly warm, but distant as the stars.&nbsp; "I want no gold, nor anything you offer... you must answer for crimes against God."&nbsp; He steadies himself, preparing for her to bolt... "If innoccent, you need have no fear."&nbsp; He blinks, remembering her earlier question... "I spared your allies."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>20-01-2007, 18:24:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin struggles fiercely at first; slender hands balled into fists pound fiercely at Mathias' back but to no avail.&nbsp; She might as well be striking at one of the ancient trees growing in this forest.&nbsp; He can feel her go limp as he carries her, perhaps out of pain or perhaps because she knows the futility of the situation and is preserving her strength for later.&nbsp; <br><br>When he tosses her down on the ground, she feels her breath leave her for a moment as the pain in her head starts up again like a blunt knife through her skull.&nbsp; Still, she is about to try to scamble away until she sees his blade, pointing at her.&nbsp; She looks up at him, trying to keep her composure, and hearing that her allies--her friends--had not been murdered heartens her somewhat.&nbsp; But his other words confirm her growing suspicion that this man is not the brigand she'd originally suspected him to be.&nbsp; His other words fill her with dread.&nbsp; She is obviously struggling to keep her composure.<br><br>"I've done nothing wrong," she says, her voice sounding small to her.&nbsp; "Is desiring freedom a crime against God?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>20-01-2007, 20:56:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias turns his face halfway from her, sketpically shrugging off her comments.&nbsp; "Robbery and murder are."&nbsp; He gestures with the blade tip, urging her to her feet.&nbsp; "What about their freedom?"&nbsp; <br><br>She was quite beautiful... citizens who met her seemed changed by the moments they spent with her, or having heard her described, bent their folklore to include her.&nbsp; Senseless thoughts...<br><br>"Your wrists..."&nbsp; he gestures once more with the blade.&nbsp; "Or you can travel dead."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>20-01-2007, 21:30:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin thrusts her wrists forward angrily.&nbsp; She is obviously outmatched physically, and she knows better than to try to make an escape now.&nbsp; "I did not kill anyone," she says gravely.&nbsp; She scans Mathias' face, searching for any sign she might be shown mercy or that she might reason with him.&nbsp; She found only an impervious fortress.&nbsp; If he ever showed fear or sadness or anger, she couldn't see any sign of it.<br><br>"I didn't kill anyone and I have only ever stolen to keep myself alive."&nbsp; There was anger in her voice, but it was more anger at herself, at the situation in general. She'd been so close to the border and now freedom eluded her again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 00:18:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His lips beginning to form a retort, Mathias stopped himself short, shaking away the argument.&nbsp; None of this was his decision... none of it.&nbsp; He removed his gauntlets, still hinged to his bracers by joints that let them swing free.&nbsp; From his knapsack, he drew a leather pouch... untying a drawstring cord revealed a set of leather strips and chains, intricate and lovely in a surreal and horrifying way... its appearance somewhere between exotic and deadly.&nbsp; <br><br>He sheathed the blade and took her bound wrists, gingerly, like one handling a sleeping puma... working the fastenings, he watches her form for any sign of motion... soon her wrists were 'cuffed', wrapped in black straps that are tight against her flesh, and studded with ornate discs that served a cold purpose... pressure.&nbsp; If drawn tight, they would bite into her flesh, and even this delicate silver filigree could be painfully damaging, even drawing blood... but how could this contraption be drawn tight?<br><br>As he tests the straps at her wrists, she can see that a few feet of leather strapping and a silver buckle remained.&nbsp; Where was that to go..?<br><br>Noting uncertainty and rage in her, Mathias couldn't help but stare.&nbsp; He'd watched her, and now as he met her eyes, pasing long enough to unwind the makeshift bindings from before and reaffix it to his belt, her indignant reply told him much... she was no liar.&nbsp; She was the most innoccent of her crimes of any that he'd brought in. In other cases he'd been uncertain... in others, merely not abolute.&nbsp; But now... <br><br>The church would sort it out.&nbsp; <br><br>He let the strap hang loosely and paced around to her back... the boy's clothes were shamefully unfit for her... shaking away the thoughts, he concentrated on the task at hand.&nbsp; He stooped, and without warning put one hand between her thighs.&nbsp; Not touching her except to brush one thigh-- that touch was enough to give him a shiver-- he brought back the long strap of leather and straightened... the leather rustled the leaves on the ground as it coiled into his grasp, then the silver buckle chimed softly as Mathias wrapped it around her neck.&nbsp; <br><br>The intent was clear... moving her hands higher would choke her, wrench her neck back, and dig the cold metal into the flesh of her wrists.&nbsp; Mathias' strong, nimble hands were thick-skinned, but delicate... and he carefully brushed a loosed strand of her red hair from the nape of her neck before fixing the buckle.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 01:40:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin's eyes are fixed on her wrists as he binds them together with the strange contraption.&nbsp; The part of her mind that isn't terrified is fascinated by the intricate design of the silver.&nbsp; But when he moves behind her, she tenses as if perhaps she will try to bolt. When he reaches down and accidentally brushes her hand against her thigh, she flinches, jerking her leg a little, but it is obviously not a motion that indicates she is trying to flee.&nbsp; It's as if this state of tension is the norm for her, and as of late, that is true.&nbsp; His care in brushing the hair from the nape of her neck elicits a sharp intake of breath and a barely audible and muttered, "Don't touch me."&nbsp; Mathias can see her chest rise and fall rapidly, as if she is trying to shake off panic. <br><br>She tests the evilly clever device, pulling her wrists up slowly and cautiously.&nbsp; She feels the metal digging into her flesh and the strap choking her, and with memories of the garrote still fresh in her mind, she quickly drops her wrists, coughing a little.<br><br>"Please," she tries again, her voice softer, less angry. "I haven't done anything wrong.&nbsp; You said I have nothing to fear if I am innocent. But you say I have to answer to God for my crimes.&nbsp; I am not ignorant. I know what that means.&nbsp; You're going to turn me over to the church and they will make an example out of me, innocent or not!"&nbsp; As she speaks, her tone grows louder and more urgent.&nbsp; There is genuine fear there.&nbsp; Or perhaps it is an act; perhaps she is using her guile to try to convince him to free her. <br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 15:27:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias sets his jaw, turning away to rub exhaustion from his eyes.&nbsp; She was so sincere... the coughing burned in his mind... he'd no wish to suffer her this terror and pain.&nbsp; He had his own scars to remind him of just how correct she could be... but enduring the suffering was a will to power, a trial before the hardening of the church's embrace, and he believed-- truly, in his heart-- that god's will would prevail.<br><br>But not men's... "Just walk."&nbsp; He stood at her shoulder, guiding her with his own steps, but not allowing her the distance to try to run.&nbsp; He would see her to the church, he would stand by-- no, he realized.&nbsp; He would be dismissed without thanks, his purpose waned.<br><br>He needed to think... but this backtrack through the woods would require a great deal of concentration... the land was tricky, and dangerous.<br><br>The rest of the morning would be spent on foot, Mathias saying nothing except the occasional warning to watch her step.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 17:14:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Those simple words--"Just walk"--fill Katernin with bleak despair as she realizes that this man will not listen to her&nbsp; entreaties.&nbsp; It should not suprise her.&nbsp; Katernin knows enough of the church to know that they would not send someone inclined toward mercy to apprehend her.&nbsp; She clenches her jaw, forcing back tears that flood her eyes.&nbsp; She cannot lose herself to emotion or her fear--she has to think logically, to try to find a way out of this.<br><br>She allows herself to be guided by Mathias, forcing herself not to flinch away when he is near her.&nbsp; She walks, concentrating on the ground below, and she is able to keep pace with him fairly well. She does not speak either, until the morning has passed, and then in a low voice that she struggles to keep free from any emotion, she says, "Please let me have some water.&nbsp; I'm thirsty."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 21:11:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Snapped from the hypnotic state that intense concentration brings on, Mathias halts, considering her.&nbsp; The day is warming, and the sun is breaking into view behind dissipating clouds... he admires that she has not complained thusfar, though the despair in her eyes eats at his heart.&nbsp; The Father, waiting, would surely be pleased... pleased.&nbsp; There should be nothing pleasing about it.&nbsp; <br><br>He turns his face, spits, and pulls back the thick hood that encircles his face.&nbsp; Beneath, his hair is matted, thick... though clearly for want of wash, not out of habitual slovenliness.&nbsp; He scrubs one gauntleted fist over his forehead, sighing softly.&nbsp; "Well enough."<br><br>The flask of water he produces from his belt is small, but will suffice.&nbsp; "Tilt your chin... please."<br><br>He watches her face and mouth as he places the flask at her lips, noting the sparkle of daylight upon the mist of sweat across her brow.&nbsp; <br><br>"I am... sorry.&nbsp; This must be difficult."<br><br>He looks away, scanning the horizon.&nbsp; "We can rest..."&nbsp; he narrows his eyes as he picks up an echo on the wind... again, the first some twenty minutes earlier... was it a crow?&nbsp; Too far to tell... <br><br>He walks a good distance from her and sits, half-crouching, one arm propped over his erect knee while the other rests below him.&nbsp; Steel and leather-clad fingers hang loosely, and he shrugs off the traveling cloak that had billowed around him.&nbsp; The armor beneath looked form-fitting... expertly made.&nbsp; But, on this long journey, it had to be difficult to bear.&nbsp; "What else do you need..?"&nbsp; &nbsp;There was concern again, flitting like a moth at the edge of a fire's glow before darting back to the depths of forest shadow.&nbsp; He allowed himself a swallow of the stale creek-water before retying it to his belt.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 21:30:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin tilted her head back, eagerly swallowing the water. It did not taste wholly pure, but it quenched her thirst nonetheless, and she was grateful for it.&nbsp; At his apology there was a brief flash of emotion on her face, a frustrated rage that briefly overcame her despondancy.&nbsp; She opened her mouth, as if she were going to speak, but then closed it again.&nbsp; What could she say that would have any effect on her fate? With her eyes fixed on the ground near his feet, the only thing she said was a quiet,&nbsp; "Thank you for the water."<br><br>She watched him as he walked away from her, watched his careful, deliberate movements.&nbsp; Then she carefully lowered herself down into a cross-legged sitting position, taking special care not to move her wrists too far.&nbsp; She managed to accomplish this with a fair amount of grace.&nbsp; When he asked her what else she needed, she didn't answer right away.&nbsp; Instead she studied his face, almost curiously.&nbsp; She seemed to be sizing him up with her eyes, trying to understand him.&nbsp; "I need the freedom to be able to speak my mind without fear of being thrown in prison for it," she finally said.&nbsp; Her tone was even, completely free of sarcasm or anger.&nbsp; <br><br>Kat quickly averted her eyes after she said the words, and she took a deep breath. Before he could answer, she asked a question of her own. "What happened to your face?&nbsp; The scars, I mean..."&nbsp; At that moment she didn't particularly care that the question might seem rude.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 23:35:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He turns briefly away at the mention of his scars.&nbsp; "What happened..? Everything happened."&nbsp; He chuckles softly, shaking his head.&nbsp; "Wars, disagreements, mistakes... lessons learned the hardest of ways."&nbsp; He considers her a moment more before averting his gaze.&nbsp; He seems, perhaps, embarrassed.<br><br>"You seem to have no trouble speaking your mind now," he says softly, watching the treeline.&nbsp; "It is good to hear... So few ever do."&nbsp; <br><br>The sound peals out again, so faint only a dog could make out its source... to his own ears, it is nothing more than a disturbance, and its direction unclear.&nbsp; "How did you end up in this... situation?"&nbsp; He turned his gaze back, thinking of the beggars and princes he'd reigned in over the years since his youth, and how none were like her.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>21-01-2007, 23:48:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin does not seem to notice the sound that distracts Mathias.&nbsp; If she does, she ignores it. She is suprised by his response but she interprets it to mean that he does not particularly want to share the truth with her. <br><br>She laughs out loud at his question.&nbsp; "How did I end up in this situation?&nbsp; You should know if the church sent you.&nbsp; I am accused of stabbing Bishop Alden although no one actually saw me kill him and there was a huge crowd all around.&nbsp; And the reason so few speak their mind is because they are afraid of feeling the bootheel of one of King Aerick's thugs grinding them into the mud."&nbsp; As she speaks, there is anger in her voice, and he can see that her fair cheeks have colored with it.<br><br>"I can't believe you'd ask me that," she continues.&nbsp; "But if you are at all interested in the truth, I did not kill the Bishop.&nbsp; I was there when it happened, yes, but I had nothing to do with it."&nbsp; At this last he can see her eyes watering with tears and she turns her head away, not wanting him to see this weakness in her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 01:57:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias cursed himself... letting his guard down, to an <em>assassin</em>--?! No wonder he found her so believable-- deception and betrayal were in her very nature, and he was letting himself be suckered in by it... the mental wall that he'd allowed to slip reemerged, more inflexible than before.&nbsp; "You have one chance, then, to convince me that this is NOT the truth."&nbsp; He approaches her, one heavy-shod, steel-clad leg raising and meeting her between the breasts, pushing her flat-- "Fail, and you'll truly know what one of Aerick's-- thugs-- can do rather than grind you into the mud."&nbsp; Cold, bitter rage swells up... the Bishop himself, the one whose ring Mathias had kissed upon being granted his sword.&nbsp; <br><br>"Speak quickly, for my bootheel is heavy."&nbsp; He begins to ease pressure down upon her chest, the former tenderness forgotten like an ancient age.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 02:10:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The tears she'd struggled to hide spilled over, and Katernin looked up at Mathias, shocked at his sudden change in demeanor.&nbsp; She moved her hands up, in an almost reflexive desire to shield herself, but she only managed to choke herself.&nbsp; She could feel the silver inlay of the cuffs around her wrists bite into her flesh, and it occurred to her that this was only a fraction of the pain she would suffer once this man turned her over to the ones that held the power from behind King Aerick's throne--the Aravanian church.<br><br>For a moment, Katernin thought it would be better perhaps to let him kill her, or to kill herself with the contraption that was even now cutting off her air.&nbsp; But her desire to live, the instinct for it, was greater than her fear.&nbsp; She dropped her hands back down, and looked up at Mathias, her eyes pleading with him for reason.&nbsp; "I didn't kill anyone," she reiterated, her voice hoarse. "And I did not refer to you when I spoke of the King's thugs.&nbsp; I was talking about his soldiers.&nbsp; You don't look like one of his soldiers."&nbsp; She spoke rapidly, the fear she felt coming through in her voice as she felt the weight of his foot on her chest.&nbsp; She was sure he could snap her spine like dry kindling if he truly wanted to.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 02:29:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The pressure steadily increases on her chest.&nbsp; "You're wasting your breath, dear... I care not if you call me a thug or the devil himself, for I am both.&nbsp; What I mean to know is how."&nbsp; Each word is precise, heavy, a hammer-blow of steel "What. do. you. know. of. Alden's. death."<br><br>His fury threatens to consume them both in cold, stomach-clenching fury.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 02:34:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Nothing! I know nothing! There was a riot and I was in the square when it happened, but I had nothing to do with it."&nbsp; Katernin's voice is edged with panic now. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, you must believe me!"&nbsp; Her fear is on the verge of taking her over completely, and she hates herself even more for that weakness.&nbsp; <br><br>"Please..." she says again, although she is fast becoming convinced that nothing she can say will move him.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 04:58:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For a moment more, she can feel her ribs being stressed by the heavy pressure of his foot, then a sudden release-- light seems to return, a distant squirrel chirrups-- it's silent, a breeze rustles the grass.&nbsp; She's on her back, hands still together, pressed tight to her abdomen, but she can see dappled sunlight through the high boughs of the trees, falling like glowing tendrils of the sun itself drips from the black boughs in gold trickles.<br><br>Mathias leans against a tree, some twenty feet away, shoulders slumped and face buried against his folded arms.&nbsp; He draws upright then, takes a deep breath, and turns... a blade in hand, short, hook-shaped, like a skinning knife, the black steel tip projects from his palm like a talon.&nbsp; He steps toward her, crossing the distance effortlessly, and light dies again as he overshadows her.&nbsp; <br><br>The blade draws back, and she hears the snap of something being cleanly severed; the tension at her throat goes slack, and her hands are free.&nbsp; The leather and silver contraption is cut neatly in two just below her wrists.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 05:08:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin draws in her breath, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable pain, and she is surprised and a little more than confused when he draws away from her.&nbsp; She is greatful for this reprieve, no matter how insignificant it may be, and as she lay there, she looks up at the sky, only able to see a sliver of blue through the trees.&nbsp; She blinks, the brightness of the sky almost overwhelming to her.&nbsp; How many days had she travelled in this forest and never noticed its primordial beauty?&nbsp; She did not have long to think on that, though, as she sees Mathias standing over her knife in hand.<br><br>She flinches away as he crouches over her, turning her head, expecting the worst.&nbsp; But he surprises her again when he cuts the leather strap binding her wrists to her neck.&nbsp; It is not complete freedom, but at least now she does not have to worry about strangling herself.&nbsp; Looking up at him, trying to meet his eyes, she says in a low voice, "Does this mean that you do believe me?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 05:41:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Without reply, Mathias grips her arm and hauls her to her feet... for the briefest moment, she leaves the ground, but he sets her on feet with the ease and grace of one balancing an obelisk.&nbsp; He stands there, eyes of pale slate fixed to hers, before turning away.&nbsp; "I knew him."<br><br>Immediately, he realizes, something is wrong... he's taken his attention away for too long, allowed his rage to overwhelm and blind him... again.&nbsp; The small blade in his hand disappears again, replaced with the smooth draw of larger steel from a bracer along his back... a hiltless blade of over a foot in length, blackened, etched steel hissing cold in the air.&nbsp; He holds it loosely, testing the air with his nostrils as he narrows his eyes at the treeline.&nbsp; 'Burn me...' he can feel them... surrounding both he and Katernin as easily as a pack of buzzards.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 06:48:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin lets out a gasp at how easily he lifts her, setting her upright.&nbsp; She&nbsp; opens her mouth to speak, to ask him if it was Bishop Alden he was referring to and exactly how he knew him, but that thought is lost when Mathias shifts his attention to their surroundings.&nbsp; Katernin does not perceive the nature of the danger, but Mathias' drawing of his blade alerts her to its existance.&nbsp; Immediately her senses are aroused, and she instinctively moves to draw her own sword. The only difficulties, of course, are that her wrists are still bound together, and she no longer has her weapon.<br><br>"Damn it!" she mutters, under her breath.&nbsp; And then scanning the treeline, she&nbsp; takes a step toward Mathias and whispers, "What is it? What do you see?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-01-2007, 15:10:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Men, afoot, begin to appear at the treeline... crossbows and polearms in hand, they pepper the horizon and must number close to a dozen.&nbsp; They are not on horseback; that would have made them too easy to detect, the very reason Mathias left his mount behind.&nbsp; Grizzled, haggard looking men, they range from old boys with scraggly beards to greying, square-jawed louts with flesh of tanned leather.&nbsp; Their armor looks to have been pieced together from dozens of different crafters... probably the bounty of raids and slaughters across the countryside over years, combined with the occasional gambling win.<br><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">"Halt in the name o'the King, you fuck!"</span>&nbsp; <br><br>Mathias turns, eyes blazing, and squares up with Kat where she stands.&nbsp; "Stay in one place."&nbsp; He picks up the black cloak from earier.&nbsp; "Stay low.&nbsp; Cover yourself with this."&nbsp; As he places the cloak in her hand, she can feel something heavy and metal being pressed into her palm.&nbsp; That small dagger again, perhaps..?&nbsp; <br><br>The men start to close in.&nbsp; Those with crossbows would do well to keep their distance, where they would have the most profound advantage, but evidently don't consider it necessary.&nbsp; &nbsp;Of the first three to arrive, shoulder to shoulder, the one who called out before seems to be a cleanly-shaven, bald-headed man in fur, leather, and steel.&nbsp; "You keep a blade in yer 'and when one announces himself in Aerick's name?"<br><br>They stop, wisely, about ten feet away, the other thugs drawing nearer by the moment, their attention divided between the warrior in black and his quarry... "Oi, it looks like a lad--"&nbsp; "He's got 'is wrists bound... is this one a slaver, or somethin'?"&nbsp; "It's a girl, I say... look, she's dressed as a lad..." "--not that it matters to you.&nbsp; You fuck'em both--"&nbsp; "Shut up our I'll choke you out--"<br><br>Mathias speaks directly to the bald one, whose demeanor identifies him as the leader.&nbsp; "Every brigand in the valley calls out the king's name before moving in for the kill... my sword stays in-hand until you cease to interfere with the church's business."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 04:33:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As soon she sees them emerging from the trees, Katernin knows that these men do not in any way represent the King.&nbsp; In her time as a fugitive she'd seen enough of the likes of these louts and brigands.&nbsp; Inwardly she curses the church and this man who'd abducted her for the fact that her hands are bound and that she has nothing to defend herself with.&nbsp; Thus, she is quite shocked when he presses the blade into her hand. It wsn't much, but certainly better than no defense at all.<br><br>She feels ever muscle in her body tense, and more so when she hears the exchange over her gender.&nbsp; She does nothing to enlighten the men though.&nbsp; Instead, she watches the bald man closely, suspecting like Mathias that he is the leader, and that if they take him out, the others will put up less of a fight and might even flee.&nbsp; She grasps the dagger, holding it blade up, trying to keep it concealed, and inches closer to Mathias.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 20:23:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Standing like a stone, Mathias's grip on the blade is loose, relaxed... almost tender.&nbsp; He waits for them to approach, their circle tightening, their whispers lewd and coarse, and as the leather-faced, glossy-skulled one steps closer, seeming to chew his thoughts before speaking.&nbsp; "This one be the outlaw assassin, ain't she..?&nbsp; Fancy, dressin' 'er as a lad.&nbsp; I 'eard all bout it back in Wellarc... we represent the king, see chum?"&nbsp; <br><br>He produces a gnarly piece of parchment, wrapped in what must have once been an impressive looking ribbon... he unfurls it, and pressed in red wax on the surface is the seal of Duke Sarian... one of the king's brothers, a known lecher and abuser of his station.&nbsp; "So I'm takin' your red prize with me, in the king's name, savy?"<br><br>Their stench is palatable, and one slings his crossbow onto his shoulder... piecemiel armor of steel chain and leather riddled with knicks and rust, the brown-bearded oaf reaches at Kat's head covering, just missing as she ducks away.<br><br>Mathias takes the scroll in one gauntleted hand, scrutinizes it, and then opens his right palm.&nbsp; He presses it into the wax seal, like he is mashing it flat and... a strange thing happens... steam rises, and a faint redolence of singed paper wafts into the air.<br><br>When he passes the parchment back, the iron cross of the church is burned across the half-melted seal.&nbsp; "Take that to the duke," Mathias answers coldly, watching the man's eyes the whole time.&nbsp; "He will know what it means."<br><br>Unflinching, he rests his hand, his body slack, prepared for any motion required.&nbsp; "Now be on your way."<br><br>The bald man-- clearly a brigand, deputized by the duke for this special purpose, curses and grips the pommel of his blade-- curses and steps back.&nbsp; "Kill the sot, take the--" his voice cuts into a strangled gugle as his mouth wells with blood, Mathias' blade burying itself under his chin and returning to a stance of battle before the bald man knows he has been slain.<br><br>The brigands are shocked as well, and spring to attack.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 20:57:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Everything happens so quickly that if she were asked to piece it all together later, there would be no way Katernin could do so.&nbsp; <em>That was a nice trick,</em> she thinks when Mathias hands the parchment with its altered seal back to the leader.&nbsp; An instant later, there is blood trickling from the corners of the man's mouth and she is no longer thinking, she is only acting, driven by the instinct for survival.&nbsp; <br><br>She feels a rough hand grabbing her shoulder and turns to face one of the crossbowmen, a greasy-haired lad that might be perhaps a few winters younger even than she.&nbsp; "Let go of me!" she snarls.&nbsp; She manages to fend him off without using the dagger though; she lays him low with a well placed kick to the groin.&nbsp; She puts all the frustration of her capture and her fruitless fleeing behind it and the young man drops his weapon, rolling on the ground. <br><br>Kat tries to catch Mathias' eye, but she is occupied once again by another one of the brigands, this one older and quite burly.&nbsp; His face is scarred from many other fights, and he is missing a number of teeth, but otherwise he is quite healthy and apparently very strong.&nbsp; "Come on now girly," he says, leering at her. "Drop the butterknife."&nbsp; &nbsp;He takes a step forward and then lunges forward to grab Katernin.&nbsp; She snarls and thrusts out at him with the blade, and her eyes widen as she feels a hot spray of blood on her face.&nbsp; The man crumples to his knees, holding the wound she'd just inflicted on his neck.&nbsp; She'd struck the jugular, and although the cut wasn't deep, it was definitely fatal.<br><br>All this passes in less than a minute and Katernin turns to see that Mathias had dispatched three more of the brigands.&nbsp; The rest, realizing that they are most likely outmatched, flee back into the trees.&nbsp; With the immediate danger passed, Kat stops and then a look similar to the dazed expression she'd had when Mathias had slammed her into the tree returns to her eyes.&nbsp; The dagger slips out of her hands and lands without a sound in a bed of pineneedles.&nbsp; "I killed him," she says, more mouthing the words than speaking them out loud.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 22:06:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A few crossbow bolts have found their mark and protrude from Mathias' back like porcupine quills... the black armor glistens faintly with blood, and a faint spatter peppers his face as well.&nbsp; Looking down upon the body of the man twitching, then gradually still, lying at Kat's feet, he gently reaches for the blade on the ground.&nbsp; He watches her eyes, the stone of his face softening, as he eases back to his feet.<br><br>Speaking as if to a startled mare, he takes the still wet blade, letting it disappear into some hidden sheath on his wrist, before easing the now-rended strap from her wrist.&nbsp; "He is dead."&nbsp; He seems to want to say more, his lips stuggle for the words, then abandon their search.&nbsp; "Are you..."&nbsp; his tone flattens, becomes more stoic.&nbsp; "Were you injured?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 22:55:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin's hands feel cold as Mathias freed her from the bonds, and she doesn't seem to notice the change in his almost always unreadable expression.&nbsp; She is contending still with the horror of what she'd just done, even if it had been out of self-defense.&nbsp; Her own face is drained of color, which only makes the blood staining her skin, blood not her own, stand out more starkly.<br><br>Looking at Mathias as if she were caught in a dream, she shakes her head. "I'm not hurt. I'm just..." And then she suddenly jerks away from him, turning and stumbling a few feet away from him.&nbsp; She leans over and vomits what had been a meager breakfast all over a juniper bush, and then when her stomach is empty she retches and coughs for a few moments more.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 23:38:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Unflinching, Mathias waits, picking up the cloak from the dry needles and shaking it before wiping his face with it... her reaction confirms what he already knows in his heart; she is innoccent of the assassination.&nbsp; Folding it to a clean corner, he sets the black cloth beside her, a faint, ruddy smudge still visible in the line of his jaw and the corner of his eye.&nbsp; <br><br>Having finished catching his breath, he takes out the flask of water and swallows a sip, then lays it, capped, atop the cloak and walks back to the center of the circle of dead.&nbsp; He splays his hands before him, as if spreading a cover smooth at the height of his waist, and tips his head forward, muttering a soft, nigh inaudible prayer, in the old tongue of their country.<br><br>He kneels, drawing his blade, and buries its tip in the ground up to the hilt with a smooth, downward needling strike, then draws out the black and silver surface... now cleaned by the cold earth.&nbsp; He returns it to the scabbard at his back, turns, and waits for her... <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-01-2007, 23:56:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After a few minutes, Katernin turns around, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.&nbsp; She picks up the waterskin, takes a drink from it and swishes the water on the ground before spitting it out.&nbsp; Then she taks another large swallow.&nbsp; She feels a little dizzy still, but much better.&nbsp; When his prayer is finished, she walks to him and hands him the cloak and the flask.<br><br>"Thank you," she says softly, obviously still disturbed by what has happened.&nbsp; "I'm not...I've never killed anyone before."&nbsp; It doesn't seem like she's trying to proclaim her innocence again; it's more like she's trying to find something--anything--to say.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>25-01-2007, 00:36:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias accepts what she hands him, securing the flask at his waist and binding the cloak around one arm.&nbsp; He meets her gaze levelly, then nods curtly.&nbsp; "I know."&nbsp; <br><br>He waits, breathing a deep sight that catches, momentarily, at a stab of pain... one of the bolts got through, and burned below his left shoulder, where it nicked the bone.&nbsp; <br><br>Making up his mind to ignore it, he offers her his hand, assisting her to her feet.&nbsp; "We should go..."&nbsp; he gestures in their original direction.&nbsp; "There's a village that way... Erostine."&nbsp; He sighs heavily.&nbsp; "We can make it before dark."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>25-01-2007, 01:22:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias' acknowledgement allows Katernin a small glimmer of hope, but just as before, she told herself not to cling too tightly to it.&nbsp; Circumstances had a way of swiftly changing. <br><br>"Erostine," she replies softly, looking at him curiously, almost as if she'd never seen him before.&nbsp; "There is an inn there."&nbsp; And then she catches a glimpse of something, a brief look of pain in his eyes.&nbsp; She circles around him and looks at him with a shocked expression.&nbsp; <br><br>"You're wounded," she says, her voice sounding stronger than it yet had with him.&nbsp; "We can't go all the way to Erostine like this.&nbsp; Those bolts have to come out."&nbsp; She sounds like she is not going to take no for an answer.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>25-01-2007, 07:11:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For a moment, his face betrays only confusion... confusion, perhaps, at the change in her.&nbsp; A few hours before, he'd had a wire around her throat, had rammed her skull into a tree to subdue her.&nbsp; Could she really be so forgiving?&nbsp; Or, in her hands, could she find the quarrels that had broken through and drive them home with a finality that would do him grave injury..?&nbsp; <br><br><em>No,</em> he reminded himself.&nbsp; <em>She's no killer.</em>&nbsp; <br><br>He doesn't flinch.&nbsp; "An inn... yes."&nbsp; He blinks, holding back the phrase... 'and a church', but even unspoken, it hangs in the air.<br><br>He waits... hestitant, still.&nbsp; Like a coyote, foot that's just gotten a paw caught between two rocks, and isn't about to gnaw the limb off yet, but isn't anxious to let anyone touch it.&nbsp; <br><br><em>Have faith,</em> he tells himself, and unlatches one gauntlet to let it hang loose under his wrist.&nbsp; With the bare hand, He sifts through a small leather pouch at his waist.&nbsp; Slate gray eyes meet hers, and he nods, reluctantly.&nbsp; "That would be helpful."&nbsp; He turns, and she can count three there, wedged into the steel of his armor.&nbsp; From the pouch, he produces an awl-like tool of steel, the chisel-tip made for prising.<br><br>He half turns to watch, then makes himself relax his neck.... exhaustion is clear in the slump of his shoulders, the slack of his head, as the black waves hang loosely aside his jaw.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>29-01-2007, 02:11:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin takes the tool feeling a bit squeamish. She has never enjoyed inflicting any sort of pain on anyone, even when it involved pulling a sliver out her brother's finger or sewing up an cut her father received when he fell from his horse.&nbsp; But there was nothing to be done for it--the bolts had to come out.<br><br>Inspecting his back, she looks for the one that seems to be buried the deepest; that would be the most painful one to remove.&nbsp; The pain he'd inflicted on her seemed to have been forgotten, though there was still a dull ache in her head.&nbsp; It was nothing compared to what she was was about to put him through. Best get it out of the way first.&nbsp; She took a deep breath and stepped toward him.&nbsp; "Brace yourself," she said softly. And then he could feel it--the tool digging into his flesh as it dug into metal, and she yanked the bolt loose with surprising strength. She paused for&nbsp; moment to let him recover, still holding the bloody projectile in her hand.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>29-01-2007, 14:35:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At the cold press of iron onto screaming nerve endings, there's a slight tensing in his shoulders... he tries to force it down, but the vision he's formed in his mind to distract himself-- the forest before him, blanketed in foot-deep drifts of pure, white snow-- is burned with searing white pain as she pries the bolt free.&nbsp; <br><br>She knows enough from treating her brothers' and father's many wounds over the years to know a grievous wound at sight, and clearly this is not one.&nbsp; As the bolt eases slides free from where it's lodged next to his scapula, there is blood, but not terribly much.&nbsp; It could have been much worse, and had the bolt been removed improperly... <br><br>The other two are merely surface wounds, requiring the bolt be prised from the armor rather than flesh, the tip having come to rest just under the surface of his skin.&nbsp; <br><br>He manages to brace himself against the pain enough to remain stationary and silent, but at the end of the first bolt's removal he releases a soft, ragged breath and, for a few moments after, breathes a little heavier.&nbsp; The next two, she might as well have been pulling shallow stakes from the earth for all the reaction it earns.<br><br>After a moment's pause, with him leaninng heavily forward like a weary statue, he stands, pops his shoulders and turns to face her... his bare hand extended for the prying tool.&nbsp; "We can leave whenever you're ready."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>30-01-2007, 20:03:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin places the tool, and the bolts in Mathias' hand, eyeing him as if he were something not entirely human.&nbsp; Perhaps in her mind, he was not.&nbsp; She had not expected much of a reaction to the pain she knew he must have felt when she removed the bolt, but his stoicism was a bit unnerving.&nbsp; Perhaps the scars that he would not acknowledge when she'd asked about them had something to do with it.&nbsp; Or perhaps it was his statement--"we can leave whenever you're ready"--as if he were giving her a choice.<br><br>Her expression is skeptical, but her voice even as she replies. "You know I did not kill the Bishop.&nbsp; So what happens when we arrive in Erostine?&nbsp; Are you going to give me over to the church?"&nbsp; She holds herself tensely, like the doe who has caught sent of a predator and is ready to flee.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>30-01-2007, 20:25:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He takes the bolts and tool with a sigh, as if their weight was something more than their material.&nbsp; He returns the tool to his hip, then tosses the bolts aside... looking up, slate gray eyes searching hers... as if for an indication of that answer... and shakes his head.&nbsp; "No, you won't be left alone."&nbsp; He lowered his face for a moment, then raised his eyes again.&nbsp; "...the parishoners there are more apt to accept this explanation than some of the Bishop's men."&nbsp; He chooses his words carefully, careful not to liabel the officers of the church.&nbsp; <br><br>Setting off a few steps ahead, slowly, he doesn't turn to see if she follows.&nbsp; "They will hear the truth."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>11-02-2007, 17:26:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin hesitates, a multitude of possiblities passing through her mind.&nbsp; This man had shown her trust once by letting her pull the crossbow bolts from his flesh.&nbsp; Now he was trusting her again by turning and walking, leaving her to follow.&nbsp; Should she return that trust?&nbsp; Should she believe his words that she would not be left alone to whatever horrors she might face at the hands of the church?&nbsp; A throbbing ache that she'd thus far been able to ignore fairly well starts up in her head, and she reaches up to touch the dried blood at her hairline, trying to decide if she should flee.&nbsp; Katernin is not normally so indecisive, but then, she is not often faced with a choice like this.&nbsp; She glances furtively around her, and common sense prevails when she realizes she has absolutely no idea where she is or if there are more brigands like the ones they'd faced about. There would still be time to run later, when they were closer to the village.<br><br>Her decision made, she moves forward, walking next to Mathias.&nbsp; She looks over in his direction for a brief moment, wondering about his true motivation.&nbsp; But then a more mundane question comes to mind.&nbsp; "What's your name?" she asks, trying not to sound too conversational.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>11-02-2007, 21:19:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Despite his focus on their purpose at hand, he emits a small sigh of relief when he hears her footsteps in the grass and leaves below.&nbsp; He was almost hoping she'd run... maybe her chances were better far from him.<br><br>As she arrives at his side, he tilts his face downward, seeming to study their invisible path.&nbsp; Her question seems to ricochet off of his slate grey eyes as he turns to look at her for only a moment, but... after a few seconds, he looks back to her again.&nbsp; "Mathias."&nbsp; The perceptible discomfort she experiences from the head wound brings on a pang of guilt... he winces slightly at the memory of the cold satisfaction he had received at subduing her.&nbsp; The end result is that he looks away again, cresting the next hill, and the one after, with fury-driven determination.<br><br>He wished he could shake that memory.&nbsp; Certainly it wasn't the worst thing he'd done to feel guilty over... but something about this was different.&nbsp; "I feel..."&nbsp; the sentense disappears, half-formed.&nbsp; "How is it you came to be... where you were, before this all happened?"&nbsp; His voice is low, not threatening, almost shy.&nbsp; <br><br>They will soon pick up the remnants of a cattlepath... signs of civilization... a crumbled stone marker, the remnants of a campsite days old.&nbsp; They can practically smell the village... and a good thing, too... the sun sinks lower and lower on the horizon.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>11-02-2007, 22:06:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Mathias," Katernin repeats softly, more to herself than in acknowledgement of his response.&nbsp; She wonders if he is telling her the truth, but she senses this man is not much of a liar. She moves alongside him, having to walk quickly to keep up, and she wonders if he ever gets tired.&nbsp; These thoughts are interrupted by his next words though.<br><br>She glances over at him, wondering again about the scars, wondering about the fortress this man seems to have built around himself, and most of all, wondering about the change in his tone.&nbsp; Katernin ponders for a few moments. "I am not sure what you mean.&nbsp; Do you mean how did I end up in the square when the bishop was killed, or how did I end up in this situation in general?&nbsp; And...what were you going to say?&nbsp; You said, 'I feel,' but then you stopped."&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>12-02-2007, 01:54:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He sighs in frustration at himself... <em>welp of a lad out playing the lord, turned into a pincusion for his troubles</em>... <br><br>"I corrected myself."&nbsp; He stepped over a rivulet of cold, muddy water, reaching back to offer his hand, should she desire it.&nbsp; "What I feel isn't worth much in comparison to what's really happened."&nbsp; He looks back to her eyes, "What I mean to know is..."&nbsp; he can't continue.&nbsp; He's torn between two urgent desires...one to know of what happened to the Bishop, one to know anything more of <em>her</em> that he can know.&nbsp; "Ah... how did you..."&nbsp; he shakes his head, pausing in his step, working his jaw.&nbsp; "Who are you..?"<br><br>The most curious look creeps through his face, sensitive and wounded, strangely.&nbsp; Searching for something.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>12-02-2007, 02:10:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin is skeptical that he has merely corrected himself, but she doesn't push it, knowing it would likely be fruitless.&nbsp; She hesitates when he offers his hand, but then takes it,&nbsp; her palm pressing firmly against his.&nbsp; She leaps nimbly over the rill to stand next to him, and then breaks the brief physical contact with him.&nbsp; She looks at him closely, her sapphire eyes searching his face in turn.&nbsp; He certainly does not seem to be like the other of the church's soldiers she'd encountered, doing their duty so rotely that the thought of questioning it never arose in their minds.&nbsp; She wonders if the scars he bears are the result of his questioning. <br><br>"I'm just Katernin," she replies, allowing a hint of a smile to appear on her face. "I just want to live my life in peace and in freedom without those in authority telling me what to do."&nbsp; She turns away then, as her smile fades to bitterness at how hard she has had to struggle for such&nbsp; a simple desire.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>12-02-2007, 03:23:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With a dry smile, he shakes his head, saying nothing in reply for some time.&nbsp; As they crest a hill, the last strains of amber light spilling into the purpling, bruised sky, he breathes out a sighing response.&nbsp; "Peace and freedom can't seem to live together nowadays."<br><br>As he finishes, they reach the point of the rise where a tower appears-- far off in the distance, a single clock-tower, crested by a long, thin banner that stirs fitfully in the coming evening breeze.&nbsp; Erostine waits in the low valley, its jagged black silhouette a cluster of gray stone and stained, old oak next to the black vein of a small river.&nbsp; <br><br>Stopping at the crest, they can make out the tiny lights of cooking fires and lanterns being lit against the night.&nbsp; A couple of inns, a market square adjoining what must be docks... a hundred or so houses... and a church, high-steepled and older than the town itself, its slate roof and granite turrets resemble-- and may once have been-- an ancient bastion against the wilderness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>14-02-2007, 02:17:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin smirks at his comment.&nbsp; How well she knew it.&nbsp; "It should be simple," she mutters.<br><br>As the village comes into view, Katernin is filled with a sudden apprehension that has become automatic at the sight of any population larger than the tiniest of hamlets.&nbsp; To many, the wilderness was full of hidden dangers, and that was certainly true, but Katernin had learned to understand and prepare herself for most of those dangers.&nbsp; The menace that civilization brought was much worse.&nbsp; <br><br>As they reach the crest, she hesistates.&nbsp; She can smell the cooking fires and the thought of food sets her stomach to growling, but her instinct for immediate survival outweighs the hunger.&nbsp; "I can't," she says softly, her look becoming something almost feral.&nbsp; Her tension is easily sensed, and it seems like now might be the time she would really flee.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>14-02-2007, 05:23:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias turns his face to her, a mixture of incredulity and sympathy on his face.&nbsp; One gauntleted hand holds at the edge of the interlocking plates at his opposite shoulder… perhaps gripping to reduce the strain of its loose weight… the other hand hangs loosely, though it flexes for a moment, as if moving with some impulse to reach for her… that impulse is suffocated by the weight of his armor, perhaps.&nbsp; “Katernin… you know, just as I do… you can’t run from this.”&nbsp; <br><br>A little weariness in his step, he makes his way to where she stands, having only moved ahead a few steps.&nbsp; The loose hand lifts itself from his side, faint metallic crackling as joints flex unwillingly, but his hand rests upon her arm.&nbsp; The touch is comforting, hopefully, though perhaps a little macabre.&nbsp; <br><br>Overcoming the sensation of steel is the utter warmth of his gaze.&nbsp; Against the slanting rays of twilight, his eyes are like ivory and basalt insets in the shadow of his lowered face as he stoops slightly to place himself eye-to-eye with her.&nbsp; “I won’t leave you.”&nbsp; He immediately cursed himself, in his mind… was he some prate-spewing lad?!&nbsp; I won’t leave you… how completely… tripe.&nbsp; He turns away, slightly embarrassed, as if studying the valley.&nbsp; <br><br>“What I mean is that you are my charge.&nbsp; I have no choice.”&nbsp; He saunters a couple of steps away.&nbsp; Shame again, at that, burns his face.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 14:38:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin flinches lightly at his touch, perhaps out of fear of him, or perhaps because she has grown so unused to being touched by anyone.&nbsp; She looks at him, and tries to keep her face a mask, but she is not entirely successful. Learning to supress feeling had been a key to survival, but his gesture of stooping down to put himself on equal footing with her, touches her strangely and she has to lower her eyes to hide her own vulnerability.<br><br>Hands clench into fists as he steps away from her, and her whole body aches from the tension of always being hunted.&nbsp; "I want to believe you.&nbsp; I want to believe that..." Now she stops mid-sentence, unable to finish the unspoken words... <em>I want to believe that you would protect me.</em><br><br>"Mathias, I'm not naive. I've seen the results of the church's work on enough of my friends, most of them innocent of the crimes they were accused of!&nbsp; How can you promise me such a thing?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 15:50:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As he listens, he struggles to form something sensible from the torrent of impulses in his mind.&nbsp; It is no surprise that she fears the church… the fear of God may come from folly, wisdom, or guilt, and when the Iron Hand reaches, it matters not from what spring that fear trickles.<br><br>She would want to believe that… <em>that what?</em>… that God would intervene?&nbsp; That the church would listen?<br><br>God helps those who help themselves, Mathias knows… and the church would <em>have</em> to listen…&nbsp; the parishioner would… Farril Vedde, while young for a head parishioner, was a decent enough man… naïve, in ways that Kat had just claimed she was clearly not, but well-liked, honest, and of royal blood.&nbsp; A nobleman turned man-of-the-cloth,&nbsp; heading services and tending to the spiritual needs of a moderate-sized town..?&nbsp; He was not a Prince’s Man.&nbsp; He was a man of the people.<br><br>Like Mathias’ mentor, when he returned from the wars…<br><br>Snapping back to focus on her eyes, he speaks without eloquence or guile… his words double-edged, as only the truth can be.&nbsp; “I can promise but few things in this world, Katernin.&nbsp; First, that though we struggle to steer the ships of our fates, God is the ocean.&nbsp; For kings and lepers alike, that says all.”<br><br>He takes a soft step forward.&nbsp; “Second, I would never stand aside and let you—“ something flashes in his eyes, a snapped chain restraining some dark memory, perhaps... it is swallowed by the brushed steel of his eyes… “—and let injustice be done to the innocent.”<br><br>With a swallow and a flexing motion in his jaw, he turns partly away before resettling a hawk’s virulent stare upon her eyes.&nbsp; “And last… I would pursue you until time dies, or my bones are crumbled to dust.”&nbsp; He stares into the green orbs of her gaze, drinking in her delicate features, noting again the damage he had done.&nbsp; Threat or reassurance, the intent is unclear… but for Mathias, would they not be one and the same?&nbsp; “Run if you wish.”&nbsp; He backs a step away, then another drudgingly slow behind, but before turning and beginning what he hopes will be the last leg of this journey, he speaks again, “I will find you.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 17:31:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Mathias speaks, Katernin watches him intently, studying his face for some indication that there is something more there than just the words he is speaking. Still, she finds him hard to read.&nbsp; <br><br>Her expression darkens when he speaks of God, though.&nbsp; That was a childish idea she'd long since given up on believing in.&nbsp; If such a deity existed then he...she...<em>it</em> cared nothing for the doings of foolish humans.&nbsp; The church was simply man's instrument. Still, his words almost have her persuaded to follow him, to believe that she would be safe standing by his side, until his last promise or threat.&nbsp; It didn't matter what it was. Katernin sees something in Mathias then that tells her he would make no special exception for her.&nbsp; He is still a man of the church, of the Iron Hand, and she'd seen his abilities well enough both in his capture of her and in the fight against the brigands.<br><br>"Very well, let's get on with it then," she says, resignation in her voice.&nbsp; She steps forward, but stays on the path toward Erostine, not waiting for him.&nbsp; A few feet ahead of him, she stumbles, or seems to. Mathias may very well see it for the feint that it is.&nbsp; She lets out a fake cry of pain and then she is off, fleeing swiftly to the left of the path and then angling back toward the trees. She believes very well that he will pursue, but Katernin is not going to make herself easy quarry to catch.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 17:54:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Stupidly duped by the feigned injury, Mathias will wonder for some time how he could possibly let someone blind him to the point that he'd actually fall for a feint like that.&nbsp; Perhaps it was weariness, exhaustion, or guilt, but regardless... she's into the treeline and running strong by the time the rage sets in...<br><br>Of course, what had he really expected..?&nbsp; One needed know her for but a moment to realize that she would walk to a cage of any kind.<br><br>With a soft curse of his own stupidity, Mathias sets off after her... taking care to move soundlessly, but quickly... the last rays of sunlight are fading into the violet dusk, and the night might hold any number of dangers far more immediate than royal dogs.&nbsp; <br><br>She would not be easy to follow at night, either... his seses had been growing duller, the light of town had been a more than welcome sight.&nbsp; The darkness would hide broken twigs, bent stems, disheveled leaves... what a fool he is.<br><br>Anger is his fuel now, and he moves at a fast trot to keep the sound of her footfalls in his ears, to predict her changes of direction... he'd never catch her in a footrace, even if they were nude-- now, why would a thought like that have to occur to him..?&nbsp; She is faster, he must be more clever.&nbsp; That's enough.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 18:07:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Running had been an instinctive act, and Katernin keeps going, her lithe legs carrying her over root and leaf-littered ground. She pays attention neither to the direction she is going or the fact that it is getting dark.&nbsp; It isn't until she feels a growing cramp in her side and the heaviness of her breath that she stops, leaning against a tree, panting softly in the cooling air.&nbsp; She holds herself tensely, trying to be perfectly still as she listens for the sounds of footfalls or other dangerous sounds.<br><br>She glances around, the growing dusk producing weird shadows cast by tree limbs, and a somberness begins to come over her as the beating of her heart returns to normal.&nbsp; <em>That was about the stupidest plan you've ever come up with, Kat. It's getting dark, you have no idea where you are and this forest is full of wolves and brigands.</em>&nbsp; But she only allows herself a few moments of feeling sorry for herself.&nbsp; Too much of that, and her death would be certain.<br><br>She knows Mathias would not be able to run as swiftly as she could, not with that armor, but she also knows he is cunning in ways she does not understand.&nbsp; Her only hope is to try to make it back to where she was going to Demesnay.&nbsp; She moves off again, on a meandering path, but slowly, waiting for true darkness.&nbsp; Then she could use the stars as her guide.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 20:26:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Time has passed... too much of it for his liking... since he last heard her footfalls.&nbsp; How long had she been running..?&nbsp; And how far ahead must she have gotten..?<br><br>He emerges into a clearing full of ferny, soft earth... even in the lingering dusk's light, he had to unlatch a gauntlet and feel the track she left to be certain that it wasn't his imagination... from the break she left in the clearing, he was able to continue his pursuit.&nbsp; Her strides had grown closer together, more erratic... she must have been tiring by the time she had crossed this glade, but she had kept going... and still would.&nbsp; Despite the loping pace he'd managed to keep, he seemed to be no closer to her, and he was exhausted.<br><br>By now he can guess her direction, and would have more confidence in following it if her pace weren't so erratic.&nbsp; Logic and experience begin to ring out in his mind in whispers of plans, intent, and grim predelictions.&nbsp; <em>if she keeps going all night, she'll fall down by morning... no, not Katernin.&nbsp; She won't quit.&nbsp; She'll lose her direction and you can intercept her-- no, she'll have the stars.</em>&nbsp; He straightens slowly, scanning the emerging path ahead, where her feet must have carried her one half-hour before... <em>She'll make it.</em>&nbsp; <br>Fool.&nbsp; <br><br><em>She'll be free... you can let her go.&nbsp; She is innocent, and she'll probably find that caravan by dinner tomorrow... she'll be fine.</em><br><br>A wolf emerges into the clearing, black as midight with baleful, yellow eyes... it smells him, whips its head to face him.&nbsp; He meets its gaze, remaining in a crouch, and stares into what it is.&nbsp; The wolf stares back into him, and they stay that way for a moment... then, satisfied, the wolf turns away and pads off soundlessly into the night.<br><br><em>No.&nbsp; I must have her.</em><br><br>Unsure whether the thought occurs to him naturally or out of maddened exhaustion, Mathias unhitches a series of fastenings, dropping his armor one piece at a time onto the soft ground.&nbsp; He leaves everything... padding, armor, gear... all behind, except for his breeches, a shirt, and a blanket-- which he ties to his back with a belt.&nbsp; He unfastens the sword and its sheath from the armor, breathes one deep sigh, then takes up her path again. <br><br>This time, he's moving at a run.&nbsp; The cold, night air is invigorating, maddening... but he does't feel the cold, nor the heat and exhaustion that replace it as he drives himself onward... just the need to capture her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 21:02:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As she moves further into the trees, the night falls and so does the temperature.&nbsp; The previous night, Katernin had slept next to a warming camp fire.&nbsp; Now, all she has for warmth is her cloak, and it is a meager comfort indeed.&nbsp; That coupled with the lack of food has dampened her spirits to the point where it is only her most primal desire for survival that drives her on.&nbsp; <br><br>She surveys the stars and knows by the constellations that she is heading roughly north, toward the freedom she so savors.&nbsp; The darkness though, impedes her movements, and she stops frequently, certain she hears footfalls behind her. During one of these brief pauses, she takes a tiny ration from her waterskin--thankfully she at least has that.&nbsp; It does little to quench her thirst, but she knows she may not find fresh water again for awhile and she has to make it last.&nbsp; Recapping the waterskin, she steps forward again--and finds herself tripping over a gnarled tree root.&nbsp; She stumbles and falls again but this time there is no falseness in it.&nbsp; She crashes forward, landing painfully on hands and knees and a searing agony courses up her leg as she feels her ankle bending the wrong way.&nbsp; It takes all the strength of her will not to cry out and her face is a twisted mask of anguish.<br><br>"Gods be damned!" she mutters softly, and she tries to climb to her feet, using the nearby tree for support.&nbsp; She manages to get herself upright, but as soon as she tries to put weight on her damaged ankle, the pain shoots upward and this time she can't surpress a soft cry.&nbsp; Wincing, she looks around her, trying to find a place to hide. She knows she won't be travelling any further that night.&nbsp; In the moonlight, she spies a place where an ancient pine has fallen over a boulder making something like a shelter about 20 yards off.&nbsp; She limps toward it, then gives up, and crawls the last few yards to huddle beneath the fallen tree.&nbsp; <br><br>Katernin gingerly touches her injured ankle, and flinches.&nbsp; She is pretty certain it is not broken; she'd heard no bone snap when she'd fallen, but it was likely badly sprained.&nbsp; <em>Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!</em>&nbsp; She couldn't allow herself to scream the words even though she wants to.&nbsp; She is likely as good as caught now if some forest predator didn't find her first.&nbsp; She feels tears welling up in her eyes, and she lets them fall this time, since no one is around to see that weakness in her.&nbsp; And then, despite her attempt at vigilance, her exhaustion overcomes her and she drifts into a light and dream-addled sleep.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 21:36:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the night wears on, the pursuit becomes drudgery... brutal, exhausting conditions for the hunter and hunted alike, a ceaseless, long march into a night of emptiness ad cold.&nbsp; As his ability to follow her trail has weakened, so has her ability to travel unnoticed.&nbsp; They maintain a delicate balance; his fumbling in the dark to follow, lose, and re-discover trace of her passing by, and her struggles to find safe passage over crags, treebreaks, and undergrowth that chokes out passing life.<br><br>Out of that darkness comes a cry that chills Mathias' blood. Thinking, for a moment that it is her, he turns and charges toward the distant hill where the soud echoes, before realizing that what he hears is the babe's-wail cry of a puma.<br><br>Then, rubbing his eyes, he makes out a flattened patch, a branch from a sycamore littered about with other little twigs..?&nbsp; Something fell here... no blood, no scent of decay... no place for a nest..?&nbsp; A bare patch of earth, dead leaves pushed aside, not twenty feet away... leading toward a fallen pine...<br><br>Silently, he closes the distance betwee them and slides the steel blade of his sword from its scabbard, holding it aloft, ready for whatever he might find, but he seems to know, before he is able to make out enough of her silhouette and fitful-sleep breathing to confirm it... he's stumbled upon Katerin in the shelter.<br><br>He rises, blade still in hand... he could take her, now... he could teach her what futility is...&nbsp; but he is not a man for that kind of bitterness.<br><br>He returns to the base of the Sycamore, finding a goodly number of broken branches... dry leaves are abundant as well, and pine needles... soon, he's staked a small fire and, taking a handful of needles into his hand, he concentrates, closes his eyes, and lets the fire within trickle out through his hand... much like before, with the Duke's seal, the needles smoulder, smoke, and ignite.&nbsp; He drops them into a carefully arranged puff of nettles and shredded, dessicated leaves, starting up a kindling fire only a few feet from her, to which he adds hunks of bark, and gradually the snapped ends of branches.<br><br>Certainly, she will wake... his only hope is that she will accept the warmth as some dream, or some other time... she will dream of fire, now.&nbsp; Of campfires warm and hearths.&nbsp; <br><br>Mathias dared not sleep, however... he stared over the rising column of smoke and flame at the huddled, sleeping woman as she stirred in fitful dreams... his head bobbed, so he put one wrist over the fire... then again, so he did it again.<br><br>The same way he was shown.&nbsp; The only way he knows.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 21:54:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Perhaps if she had not been so weary, or if she had lived the existance of a fugitive longer, Katernin might have awakened sooner.&nbsp; Mathias' approach might have been enough to startle her awake.&nbsp; But even after the warmth of the fire begins to seep into her chilled body, she remains asleep for a short while.&nbsp; And then as she comes to consciousness, she keeps her eyes closed, believing it must be day and the warmth of the sun that is easing her from the cold.&nbsp; So when she does open her eyes, Katernin is briefly confused by the incongruity of the warmth and the fact that it is still dark. Until she sees the fire, and Mathias sitting beyond it.<br><br>She isn't sure whether to be frightened or relieved that the chase is up.&nbsp; There was no way she could have outrun him, not with her injured ankle, and as she shifts ever so slightly, she feels the pain of it like an agonizing fire.&nbsp; She wonders morbidly if the torture she will suffer at the hands of the church will be as bad.&nbsp; But she still has one way out and she takes comfort in that.&nbsp; She still has the dagger he'd given her to defend herself against the bandits earlier belted at her waist.&nbsp; "It's not suffering that I'm afraid of, you know," she says, her voice clear in the chill air.&nbsp; "It's that I'm afraid that if they hurt me badly enough, I may betray someone I care about."&nbsp; As she speaks, she slowly pulls the dagger from her waist.&nbsp; She has no intention of attacking Mathias with it though.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 22:17:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The coldness in the air compares not to the dagger in her hand, and the void of desperation behind it.<br><br>Mathias notes her wince of pain, almost impercepible, as she shifts.&nbsp; His shirt is drying, the greying-black material still clinging to his skin, and she can see, for the first time, the criss-cross of knife scars and faded, tatooed insignias of a military unit-- three stacked skulls-- followed by the blaze of the church's induction into the inner sanctum, then, just above his wrist, the Iron Hand of Purity.&nbsp; <br><br>He nods, the only answer he can muster for a moment as his slate-gray eyes dance with the firelight.&nbsp; He reaches for her dagger-hand hesitatntly, steadily... as on the previous afternoon, when humanity's corruption spread its taint of death to her innoccent hands, and baptised her with the blood of the corrupt.<br><br>His lips hang on the words before forming them, at last, in a statement of finality.&nbsp; "I will not allow anyone to hurt you, Katernin."&nbsp; Unless she prevents him, he steadily eases his fingers around hers, holding the dagger wielding hand in his own, and turning the blade toward himself... easing it to a few inches from his throat.<br><br>"If you do not believe me, then kill me now."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 22:29:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin is no match for his strength and she could not have wrenched the knife back to her own throat if she wanted to.&nbsp; She is close to him now and he can see the weariness in her eyes, the physical pain and the psychic pain of running, always running.<br><br><em>"I will not allow anyone to hurt you,"</em> he promised her, and she wants to believe him, but the only answer in her mind is to wonder how he could keep the church from harming her when the scars on his chest shows the harm they'd inflicted on him.&nbsp; <br><br>"I don't want to kill you," Katernin says softly, and there is a desparate edge in her voice when she speaks again. "Please, let me go.&nbsp; Let me go, or let me die by my own hand, a free woman." And then, suddenly, the tears come again, and she closes her eyes tightly, turning her face away, not wanting him to see her weakness. Then she abruptly brings her free hand up, and for a moment it seems she might strike him, but instead she clenches it into a fist and bites down hard on the back of it, forcing the pain to overwhelm her tears.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 22:40:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias wrenches her closer, the weary muscles in his upper body aflame as he sees her even, flat teeth bear deeply into her hand, a pain that is familair enough to him to wish to drive it away... to suffocate the pain within with anything, any wound, any duty... to find something sacred in a world of anguish.<br><br>He wrests her hand from her teeth, the act like trying to wrestle a cat, each twist of her body impossible to stifle, each wrenching twist a desperate battle for freedom... he wrests the blade free, letting it fall softly to the cold, hard ground, and meets her mouth with his own, pressing firmly against her, thinking only of suffocating the pain within them both, smothering it with a blazing, desperate kiss... his unshaven face is scratchy, but long enough to have passed the painful abrasing texture of two days' prior, and he firmly embraces her, still rigid, holding her tightly...<br><br>Shock flares in his eyes at his stupidity... he releases her suddenly, as if afraid he might burn her, and draws slowly back.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 22:58:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias' shock echoes her own, and Katernin stares at him, dumbfounded.&nbsp; She would have expected anything but this and it is enough to stop her thoughts of self-destruction at least for the time being.&nbsp; The kiss seems to linger even after he lets her go, and she realizes that it is not an unpleasant feeling at all.&nbsp; She tilts her head, studying Mathias' face as if by memorizing every feature, she could understand him.&nbsp; For a moment there is a tension within her, and he can see she is struggling, her eyes still rimmed with unfallen tears.<br><br>Then she reaches up with both hands, and places them on either side of his face, her touch gentle as a whispering breeze.&nbsp; Not even understanding why she is doing it, she leans into him, and returns his kiss tenderly, as if though she senses he has never known a kind touch in his life.&nbsp; Softly, almost chastely, her lips press against his, and for a moment, she forgets that he is her hunter and she his prey.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 23:10:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The soft crackling of the makeshift fire fills the silence before her lips meet his.&nbsp; Then his eyes fall shut like the slow collapse of a mountain under the weight of too much snow.&nbsp; <br><br>His arms encircle her, drawing her close, returning the tender kiss as one relinquishing grip to a rock in the midst of a raging river, but peace, warmth... no violence, no pain... just the satisfaction of her kiss.&nbsp; With a slow, steady breath, their lips seem to ease apart like the parting petals of a rose, but his eyes remain closed.&nbsp; Still, he hold her, hands cradling her back and shoulder as if, should he hold her up, she will never sink into that darkness again.<br><br><em>Madness</em>, he thinks... <em>I have gone mad...</em><br><br>Wordlessly, he eases her back to the nestled place she had made under the pine trunk, before reluctantly releasing her.&nbsp; That silence again, the soft cooing of an owl a half-mile away... the gentle crackle of their small fire.&nbsp; "You must rest, Katernin.&nbsp; You have been through... much."&nbsp; He hesitates, opening his eyes to look upon her face with a tenderness that may never have filled him before.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>17-02-2007, 23:44:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For as long as she can, Katernin remains in the safetly of Mathias' embrace, and she leans against him as he holds her.&nbsp; She feels a great reluctance as he settles her back under the fallen pine, not wanting to break the tenuous connection that has been miraculously been created between them.&nbsp; She lets him go though and as she eases back, she winces again at the pain in her ankle.&nbsp; She realizes she should probably tell him about it, should at least pull her boot off to see how bad the damage is.&nbsp; But that would bring cold reality crashing back down on them and she is not ready to do that just yet.<br><br>"I don't think I've been through more than you have," she says softly, and the new look in his eyes, something that seems like&nbsp; true kindness, catches her by surprise.&nbsp; She asks him a question then, one that she had asked before, out of curiosity, but now there is a concern in her voice that is not feigned.&nbsp; "What happened to you Mathias?&nbsp; Where did those scars come from?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>18-02-2007, 02:25:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sadly, and perhaps luckily, Mathias’ sword training has conditioned him to note every detail of movement in that it might betray an enemy’s weakness… he sees Katernin favoring the ankle, even though she hasn’t yet reached her feet.&nbsp; He says nothing of it, but grins very slightly at her mention of how he’s had things… seeming to think little of it, almost as a joke.&nbsp; But when she asks him the question, his eyes seem to focus on some point far away before he meets her gaze again, a faint, sad smile at his lips.<br><br>“You fit a lot of questions into one turn of phrase.”&nbsp; Comfortably, almost like an old lover, he lifts her tender leg and places it along his outstretched leg where he sits, one knee drawn to his chest, black boots ending at the bloused hem of his breeches.&nbsp; “I was in the wars,” he says flatly, the sentence incredibly simple and familiar for the painful weight it must carry.&nbsp; “I was captured once.”&nbsp; Shaking his head softly, he begins to tenderly unlace her boot, gentle with what must be significant pain.<br><br>“The church… raised me.”&nbsp; He shrugged gently, then slid the boot from her foot with tender hands.&nbsp; “I am more its son than my mother’s.”&nbsp; Feeling the resistance of tight-formed leather, firm from use, agaist profound swelling in the joint.&nbsp; “And some branches of the church are brutal.&nbsp; Brutal in discipline, brutal in training.”<br><br>As he eases the boot from her foot, he tests the swelling, noting that it is a significant sprain.&nbsp; “This looks painful, Katernin.”<br><br>He glanced up.&nbsp; “Do you think me some monster..?”&nbsp; He gently elevated her foot, testing it for sensitivity and breaks.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>18-02-2007, 03:00:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin lets out a hiss of pain as Mathias carefully places her leg across his lap.&nbsp; She is not surprised that he had noticed her injury.&nbsp; Mathias seems to notice everything.&nbsp; She doesn't flinch away from him this time though; it seems that the moment of intimacy they'd shared had ensured her trust in him.&nbsp; She does grit her teeth though as he unlaces her boot and pulls it off.&nbsp; It seems from the expression of pain on her face that she might not be hearing his words.&nbsp; But Katernin does hear every word he speaks, and his story saddens her.&nbsp; It strikes her that it was inevitable that their paths would cross, and she does not think that is a bad thing at all.<br><br>As he lifts her leg, lithe and muscular from so much time spent outdoors running and playing with her brothers and then from learning of swordplay, he can see in the firelight that the ankle is swollen, mottled and bruised purple-black.&nbsp; She again grits her teeth, and it becomes obvious that the injury does pain her but she is trying hard to hide it.&nbsp; As he inspects it she lets out a breath and then a gasping cry.&nbsp; "I suppose running was not the best idea," she says, trying to make light of it.<br><br>But then at his last question, she looks at him, studying him as she has before, as if trying to read him.&nbsp; And then she smiles, despite the pain.&nbsp; "I would not kiss a monster," she says lightly.&nbsp; And then her expression grows more serious.&nbsp; "And I do not think you are one."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>19-02-2007, 15:13:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Each indication of her suffering wrings at him.&nbsp; He finds this newfound sensitivity to suffering... awkward.&nbsp; He lifts the injured foot up a bit more, gesturing for her to recline against the tree.&nbsp; Finding a specific point in the arch of her foot, he rests one finger between the bones, testing the pulse in her foot.&nbsp; He watches her eyes for a moment... if she had lied, he would never have been able to discern.&nbsp; But he wants more than anything to believe her, despite the venom in his heart-- the burning core of him, the silent shame of his inhumanity-- something tells him to listen, to believe her, and that with her he can find the joy that eludes so many in this world.<br><br>His fingers linger at her calf, creeping down the back of her knee and across the smooth, feminine muscle... they tense, not moving, when awareness of his act settles on him.&nbsp; Resting her ankle in the crook of his arm, he snaps a small limb with his other hand, criss-crossing the pieces in the fire.&nbsp; He dared not speak it, but he hoped that she was correct.<br><br>"In the morning," he murmurs softly, we'll gather some equipment... procure a mount..."&nbsp; where he was looking away, his eyes slowly pivot back to her, sweeping up to her face very slowly.&nbsp; "We'll head North.&nbsp; There are border towns... I can report there, and you will no longer be hunted."&nbsp; As firelight twinkles his dusky eyes, his utter determination is clear.&nbsp; "But first, I will see you across the border."<br><br>As if to dismiss the gravity of the statement, he continues.&nbsp; "Have you family..?&nbsp; Someone that requires notification, or who can seek you out when you are safe?"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>19-02-2007, 17:20:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin's face shows her pain, but she leans back as Mathias indictes.&nbsp; She doesn't seem to notice the brief caress to the back of her calf, or if she does, she doesn't seem to mind it.&nbsp; Perhaps she is just trying to cope with the pain of her injury, or perhaps she has other things to think about.&nbsp; Either way, she seems to trust him now, at least well enough to let him care for her ankle.&nbsp; &nbsp;She closes her eyes for a moment, willing herself to relax, but snaps them open again at his declaration.<br><br>The stunned expression she gives him matches the one after he'd kissed her, and it becomes clear that although Katernin is&nbsp; crafty and adept when it comes to sheer survival, she'd never make a good liar.&nbsp; Her face is too much an indicator of her feelings.<br><br>Several moments of silence pass as the implication of what he is saying sinks in.&nbsp; With a protector like him, there is no doubt in Katernin's mind that she would make it safely out of Aravania.&nbsp; And for a moment, her own suspicions instinctively return.&nbsp; But what would be the point of saying such a thing if he was not sincere?&nbsp; She knows that with her injury she is completely at his mercy; if he wanted to haul her off to Erostine right then and there, he could do it.&nbsp; And despite the fact that he is as unreadable to her as she is easy to read to him, Katernin believes in Mathias' inherent honesty.<br><br>"You would...do that for me?"&nbsp; She is unable to completely keep the shock out of her tone.&nbsp; "I do have family," she says, responding to his second question.&nbsp; "They know of my intentions though.&nbsp; Perhaps you could send my father a message..." Katernin is staring into the fire, as if trying to work out Mathias' change of heart.&nbsp; But then she looks at him.&nbsp; "Why?&nbsp; I know the risk you'd be putting yourself to by doing this.&nbsp; So why? Is it because you know I am innocent?"<br><br>That is the question Katernin asks, but she realizes she hopes that his answer will be something else, something to do with the embrace they'd shared earlier.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>19-02-2007, 19:30:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His gaze remains fixed to hers, blazing with an intensity that dwarfs the meager fire that warms them.&nbsp; "Is it because you are innocent?&nbsp; Yes."&nbsp; He gently eases his way closer, careful not to shift her leg, and rests one shoulder against the tree trunk beside her, emitting a soft, weary sigh.&nbsp; "Is that the only reason?" With her leg stretched across his body, the mane of black hair hanging over one shoulder as he reaches, very gently, to her hand.&nbsp; He subtly shakes his head in a 'no'.<br><br>"Tomorrow... you should write your father a message."&nbsp; He tips his face forward, seeming to study the ground for quite some time.&nbsp; Face still downcast, he murmurs, "Please... tell me about your home."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>19-02-2007, 21:57:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin wants to ask what the other reason is, but she settles for the gentle touch of his hand on hers. She turns her own hand over to clasp his, and she glances sidelong at him, smiling.&nbsp; It actually doesn't matter much what the reason is; the fact that he has one fills her with a strange elation, a feeling she's never&nbsp; experienced before.&nbsp; For now, that is enough.<br><br>In response to his request, she thinks for a moment, and then answers, "I was born in Maresk, if you've even heard of it.&nbsp; It's a tiny town fifty miles south of the capital. I have four older brothers.&nbsp; My father is a merchant.&nbsp; I'm not sure what else you'd like to know..."&nbsp; She turns toward Mathias and watches him for a moment.&nbsp; Then, impulsively, she reaches out and with a delicate touch, she brushes the locks of hair back, so she can see his face clearly.&nbsp; "What is it you want to know, Mathias?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>19-02-2007, 22:47:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias seems to consider her words carefully, visualizing the place, imagining she and her brothers chasing each other through the dirt and stone streets of that village in the last indian summer of their childhood.&nbsp; A faint smile lingers at his lips.&nbsp; <br><br>As her hand brushes his hair, he turns his face to kiss her wrist, full lips pressing where her pulse hums under the skin.&nbsp; His eyes close gently, as if by not seeing her she will not see him.&nbsp; The blazing in his heart seems to consume his trepidation... something in her wants this, he feels, the hope confirmed by her respose to him.&nbsp; <br><br>When his eyes open, they are searing with life.&nbsp; "You."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>19-02-2007, 23:11:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Even when he moves his mouth away to speak his answer, Katernin can feel the warm imprint of Mathias' lips on her skin.&nbsp; And he can feel her quiver beneath him as she lets out a breath.&nbsp; She looks at him, lips slightly parted, and in her eyes there is a shyness. Mathias might be surprised if he could somehow discern that no one had ever before brought such an expression from Katernin.<br><br>"Mathias...I have never..." Her voice trails off, as she is not sure how to finish the words that had come too spontaneously for her to stop them.&nbsp; The firelight glinted off her azure eyes as she looks at him with a deep kindness, a deep humanity.&nbsp; "I don't understand you," she finally says, feeling a little frustrated with not being able to find the right words.&nbsp; And then, she softly adds, "But I want to."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>20-02-2007, 03:31:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His hands gently kneads the flesh of her calf down to her shins with slow, even strokes of his flattened palm... probably to encourage circulation in the swollen extremity.&nbsp; He still seems deep in thought, though his eyes still smolder as he looks into her.&nbsp; "You have what I have never had the courage to seek."&nbsp; He lets her leg rest then, seeming content merely to hold it upon himself.&nbsp; His features become clouded again, and she can almost hear thunder in him.&nbsp; "I fought for my freedom my whole life.&nbsp; For my independence... to free myself from master, jailer... inquisitor..."&nbsp; he seeks away from her eyes.&nbsp; "The church raised me as an altar boy and orphan after my parents died of plague.&nbsp; Then... the Border Wars rounded up us whelps and outcasts to fill the ranks."&nbsp; <br><br>He continues.&nbsp; "When it began, I went into battle with a pike, on the front lines, where few live long enough to desert."&nbsp; His hands stop moving, seeming to tense involuntarily.&nbsp; "I knew I would die.&nbsp; The odds told me that I would.&nbsp; But I was pressed on, like so many boys who would never return to their home country."&nbsp; Faces rolled across his mind... cries, throes, laughs of dozens of boyish faces.&nbsp; "I thought that in death or victory, I would have freedom.&nbsp; But instead, I was... chosen.&nbsp; Taken up by a..." the word sours his tongue... "Lord."<br><br>His eyes close then.&nbsp; "Pressed into his service, I learned to best all the noble lads at every contest.&nbsp; Every one."&nbsp; His head pivots in a slow denial.&nbsp; "Even the ones that were not martial at all... but were no less brutal."&nbsp; He opens his eyes again and tilts his face back, staring up at the moon overhead.&nbsp; "I grew accustomed to much under his control.&nbsp; I was acquainted with things unimaginable.&nbsp; And for my obedience I expected... " the same word, the same way, "...freedom."&nbsp; He closes his eyes again, the breath rolls from his nose in a slow coil of fog in the night chill. <br><br>"Then, the church came back for me," he mutters, resting his face in his hands.&nbsp; "Of this I was sworn not to speak."&nbsp; He shakes his head.&nbsp; "But, Katernin... this isn't what I am.&nbsp; I simply do not know what else of me there is to understand."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>21-02-2007, 00:46:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin has been denied true freedom since birth based simply on being born a female, but as she listens to Mathias' story, she realizes that she has suffered very little in her life.&nbsp; If anyone else had been telling the tale, she might have been suspicious of embellishment, but not with him.&nbsp; Despite the even tone of his speaking, Katernin can hear the struggle against the pain that talking of such nightmarish memories drudges up, and she knows there is no lie or exaggeration in his story.&nbsp; She notices the tension in his hands, and gently touches the back of one as she listens to him.<br><br>Involuntary tears start up in Katernin's eyes as talks of his time on the front lines.&nbsp; Despite her lesser station as a female, she'd still had a happy childhood, and because of it, conscription had never been a worry for her. Because of her father's wealth, it had not been for her brothers either.&nbsp; It was impossible for her to fully comprehend the suffering of his. Moving closer to him, carefully to avoid jarring her ankle, she shifts her position until she is fully next to him with the injured leg crossed over the other so it still rests on his lap.&nbsp; She takes one of his large hands between both of hers, holding it gently.<br><br>"Mathias, what will happen to you after you help me get to Demesnay?"&nbsp; There is an ache in her heart for what he has suffered, and an echo of it comes through in her question.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>21-02-2007, 08:52:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A tension line along his jaw appears with the clenching of muscle within.&nbsp; He makes no move to resist, or to respond at first, to her closeness, or her holding his hand.&nbsp; After a few moments, however, his fingers gently flex to grip one of her hands in his palm.<br><br>The shadow passes, as a schoolmarm drawn away to other concerns might turn its presence elsewhere... but somehow still loom.&nbsp; He slips a finger free, stroking her wrist with it... whether by instinct or desire, he finds her radial pulse, and he closes his eyes slowly and savors the soft, rhythmic flicker of her heartbeat there.&nbsp; "There is no certainty in that future, Katernin," he flashes a smile wry smile, eyes still closed gently.&nbsp; "This is both wonderful and frightening, isn't it?&nbsp; Having a future that it in one's own hands."&nbsp; <br><br>He opens his eyes slowly, drinking in the sight of her.&nbsp; "I wish I could be a better man, Katernin.&nbsp; For you, I feel I could have become a good man."&nbsp; Still growing used to the feel of warm flesh against his fingertips after so much time in leather and steel, Mathias opens his hand against hers, splaying her fingers for his to slide between.&nbsp; "You will be free, and not from some gift of mine.&nbsp; You will have earned it through your will and your courage."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>22-02-2007, 00:36:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin closes her eyes against the emotion that suddenly threatens to overwhelm her, and she clasps his hand tightly.&nbsp; "Mathias, you are a good man.&nbsp; You are already."&nbsp; Her voice seems almost anguished with trying to convince him.&nbsp; "I know it," she adds, looking over at him, her eyes sparkling with her tears.&nbsp; She wipes them away with the back of her unoccupied hand and takes a deep breath.<br><br>"Mathias, no one earns freedom.&nbsp; Freedom is a thing everyone should enjoy...freedom to think and feel and do as we wish, as long as we harm no one else.&nbsp; The church and the crown..."&nbsp; Her expression darkens, and she pauses, seeming ready to continue her manifesto.&nbsp; But then she stops, and the bitterness passes.&nbsp; "They've certainly harmed you," she continues, softly.&nbsp; She looks him in the eyes, and the expression in hers is solemn.&nbsp; "Come with me," she says, her tone conspiratorial.&nbsp; "Come with me to Demesnay.&nbsp; What reason do you have not to?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-02-2007, 02:07:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=8505.msg318956#msg318956">Quote from: alahendra on 22-02-2007, 00:36:40</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Katernin closes her eyes against the emotion that suddenly threatens to overwhelm her, and she clasps his hand tightly.&nbsp; "Mathias, you are a good man.&nbsp; You are already."&nbsp; Her voice seems almost anguished with trying to convince him.&nbsp; "I know it," she adds, looking over at him, her eyes sparkling with her tears.&nbsp; She wipes them away with the back of her unoccupied hand and takes a deep breath.<br><br>"Mathias, no one earns freedom.&nbsp; Freedom is a thing everyone should enjoy...freedom to think and feel and do as we wish, as long as we harm no one else.&nbsp; The church and the crown..."&nbsp; Her expression darkens, and she pauses, seeming ready to continue her manifesto.&nbsp; But then she stops, and the bitterness passes.&nbsp; "They've certainly harmed you," she continues, softly.&nbsp; She looks him in the eyes, and the expression in hers is solemn.&nbsp; "Come with me," she says, her tone conspiratorial.&nbsp; "Come with me to Demesnay.&nbsp; What reason do you have not to?"<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Mathias closes his eyes, taking a deep, slow breath.&nbsp; Without opening his eyes... the sight of her tears moving him more than he can prepare himself for... he speaks in a slow whisper.&nbsp; "Freedom is always earned."&nbsp; He opens his eyes very slowly.&nbsp; "You must take what you know and spread it.&nbsp; You, and many others, must plant the seeds of truth.&nbsp; Those vines crumble walls."&nbsp; <br><br>He reluctantly shakes his head.&nbsp; "I don't know how to run away," he says in a near-voiceless whisper.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>22-02-2007, 03:24:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You know a deeper truth than I do," Katernin replies gently.&nbsp; "As for running, I'll teach you. I'm an expert at it."&nbsp; She gives a short laugh, trying to ease the tension that seems to encompass them.&nbsp; Several moments of silence pass, with nothing but night animals and the spark and crackle of the fire to break it.&nbsp; Katernin seems to be considering something.&nbsp; Then she speaks again.<br><br>"Come with me Mathias, or I won't go."&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>22-02-2007, 03:54:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias languidly rolls his neck, staring now into the campfire as he feeds it more of an already burning branch, scooting the unburned part to the center of the flame with a nudge.&nbsp; A few sparks rise like red fireflies into the night.&nbsp; "You know not what you ask."<br><br>He rubs his thumb over his palm... perhaps it was the light, or perhaps some other trick, but she did not heretofore notice the gray, puffy scar on his palm in the shape of the iron cross of purity.&nbsp; "There is much of the church you do not know."&nbsp; He sighs softly.&nbsp; "If I go back and speak for you, they will no longer pursue you... the iron hand," he lifts his palm toward her, speaking as much in the gesture as his words, "is for taking... plucking up.&nbsp; Its fingers are open."<br><br>"If I do not return, or cross the border with you... or if I otherwise betray my orders..." he lifts his other hand from hers for a moment, placing it just behind his open hand, and closes the fingers into a tight fist, "...there is another hand."&nbsp; He watches her eyes then, shaking his head slowly before averting his gaze to the empty treeline.&nbsp; <br><br>He lowers his hands again, somehow not feeling as though he can hold hers anymore.&nbsp; "Someone has to answer for this, to make it end.&nbsp; The bishop's assassination is part of the endgame for a match between one sect of the church, the old sect... and a new structure, aligned with the crown."&nbsp; He shakes his head.&nbsp; "Someone must stop this madness... but I will not allow you to be their scapegoat."&nbsp; <br><br>As his eyes turn to the sky in surrender, he sees that rosy fingers of dawn will soon breach the eastern horizon... for now, there is merely a lightening... something about this rising light before dawn always bears a sense of urgency... the harbinger of day break.&nbsp; <br><br>"Why do I feel that so much of me depends upon so much of you..?"&nbsp; He hangs his head, fingers threading into his shaggy black hair.&nbsp; "Can it be that you, Katernin, are the keystone in what must come to pass?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-02-2007, 17:24:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands; the gesture is very child-like, and in the growing light, her exhaustion is apparent. She opens her mouth to speak several times, struggling with the right words, the right argument to convince him.&nbsp; She seems almost defeated, but then she takes his hand, the one imprinted with the sign of his supposed destiny.<br><br>"Who will stop the madness, Mathias?&nbsp; Will you bring down the new structure from within?&nbsp; You don't owe any allegiance to them! Look what they've done to you."&nbsp; The 'they' is vague, but Katernin speaks of both church and crown.&nbsp; In her mind, there is no good to be found in either, except perhaps in the man who sits next to her.<br><br>She takes a deep breath and lets it out, tendrils of mist forming from her mouth in the frosty air.&nbsp; Mathias can feel her trying to relax, trying to let go of some of the tension.&nbsp; She seems ready to continue the argument, but instead, makes a simpler request.&nbsp; "Please call me Kat."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>24-02-2007, 17:54:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His jaw set for a moment against words he can't seem to adequately control or predict, Mathias sighs out some of the tension that seems to be the only thing keeping him upright.&nbsp; "Someone has to stop them, Kat."&nbsp; Hesitantly, with his gray eyes fixed to her, he urges her closer.&nbsp; Though gentle, he is insistent as he presses her against him, abandoning himself to the burning desire for contact with her, closeness... the need to feel her breathe.&nbsp; Their bodies coalesce, still fully clothed... the contrast between them from leg to shoulder exhilarating and comforting.&nbsp; He whispers a soft hush against her as he wraps his arms gently around her in a comforting embrace beneath the now-tattered cloak he spreads over them both.&nbsp; "What they have done with chains, you have outmatched with a kiss."&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-02-2007, 18:18:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katernin's response slips away at hearing his words, and for a moment she is almost overcome by emotions she can't name. She leans into him, her head resting against his chest, and the warmth and safety he provides are a salve to her psychic wounds.&nbsp; Katernin lets time pass, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.&nbsp; Her tiredness lets her--forces her--to remain in the moment and she closes her eyes, almost dozing. But her mind is still coursing with thoughts--trying to find some way to convince him to free himself as he'd done for her.<br><br>Finally she speaks again, her tone soft.&nbsp; "You said that if you speak for me, the church will leave me alone. If that is the case, then I have nothing to fear by going before them with you. They would stop pursuing me, wouldn't they?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>24-02-2007, 18:32:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mathias stares over the top of her head at the dying glow of the fire.&nbsp; "... you need not bear that burden, Kat."&nbsp; He shakes his head slowly, resting his fingers upon hers, interlacing them.&nbsp; He wants to assure her that this would be the case, but their conversation has dredged up truth from the mire of his past, and the truth, like a hard white chain, leads through the murky water back to the crown.&nbsp; "I promise I will speak for you, and that I will not allow any harm to come to you."&nbsp; He sighs.&nbsp; "But will they stop... I don't know."<br><br>He shakes his head gently.&nbsp; "There is a taint, Kat.&nbsp; It is difficult to say how deep it goes, or how vile the taint.&nbsp; But it exists."&nbsp; The thought occurs to him, then, that he's been assuming this whole time that the taint is limited to Aravi and the church within its borders... but the church-- the church has no borders.&nbsp; No country.<br><br>What's to stop them, ever?<br><br>Going rigid, he suppresses the chill of that realization.&nbsp; "There are churches over the border as well."&nbsp; He shakes his head gently, unsure where, if anywhere, their safety may lie.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>24-02-2007, 18:51:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Mathias," Katernin whispers, her voice edged with fear. "I saw the person who killed the Bishop.&nbsp; I know who it was. He was the son of one of my father's friends. The dagger in his hand, he had it to defend himself.&nbsp; You know how it is in the capital.&nbsp; Riots start out of nowhere...The guard...the king's guard...they used him to assassinate the bishop."&nbsp; There is a catch in Katernin's throat, and a sob breaks through as she continues.&nbsp; "They grabbed him and forced his hand, physically forced him, to stab the bishop.&nbsp; He was just a fifteen year old child so I..."&nbsp; She stops to breathe, and Mathias can feel her shaking.&nbsp; "I pushed him out of the way, and grabbed the knife.&nbsp; I shouted out that the king's guard had done it. But my words were turned around, and rumors started to spread...fuelled by the crown no doubt..."<br><br>katernin's hand grasps Mathias' beneath the cloak.&nbsp; She doesn't realize how tightly she holds on to him.&nbsp; "It's not just the church that's after me, it's the crown.&nbsp; They hope the church will silence me, but if not..."&nbsp; She is crying now, no longer trying to hide her tears from him.&nbsp; "If I can escape one of them at least..." Again she lets the words die away, fast losing the ability to think coherently.&nbsp; <br><br>"Please come with me," she whispers.&nbsp; "Please..." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caustic</strong> on <strong>01-03-2007, 06:21:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His jaw tensing with a steady, slow pulse of concentration, Kat's word sink in for Mathias as surely as her tears permeate the broad, cold earth.&nbsp; He cradles her against his chest and caresses her face with warm, urgent kisses, his full lips and oak frame pressing her, melting into her and spiraling her over his body as he tumbles atop her.&nbsp; Furiously, desperately, he covers her mouth with one hungry, desperate attempt to comfort, and be comforted, after another... wordlessly he nods, his eyes resolute and pure in their ashen honesty; he will stay with her, she knows.&nbsp; He knows no way to part from her, and in her is the crux of his future and his past, his hope and love.<br><br>Even if only now, even if only for a moment, his heart like a tree split by lightning opens to consume her pain.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Purity's Hand</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>alahendra</strong> on <strong>10-03-2007, 17:20:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For the briefest of moment, there is a tension that is instinctual as Mathias tumbles her backward but it is gone almost before Katernin can register it.&nbsp; Her trust of him has become too pure, something she might never understand all of her days.&nbsp; He can feel her relax as his mouth covers hers, and she seeks him out too, with more passion than experience.&nbsp; <br><br>Bright tears shine in her eyes still as she looks up at him, but there is joy on her face when she sees him nod.&nbsp; That tiny gesture increased her hope a thousand-fold.&nbsp; For the moment she is able to erase the thoughts of pursuit and danger from her mind.&nbsp; "Mathias," she whispers.&nbsp; "Kiss me again."
			</dd>
		</dl>
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