Upon His Return

[The Imfamous AKA]

She didn't have a response to his comments on hell--trust the vile Guardians to turn punishment to pleasure. Of course, that made sense, with the sensuality he approached her impending rape with. How could she have countered his words? How could she even decipher them anymore? She didn't know which he would have preferred, at his whispered words in her ear. Did he want her to struggle now so that her mind would be easier to break later? Or did he want her to take his deigning punishment now for a better fight when he tried to take her mind?

It became especially hard to think through the fear that began to mount as he pulled her toward the pallet. With his arm twined around her and her hands pinned by his, there was no way to struggle against him, to pull away. She could, of course, lash out with her feet or knees, but his last warning still rung heavily in her ears.

It took a long, horrified moment for Rena to realize what had happened once the flames surrounded her. Panic had taken over in that moment, knowing that she was about to die the death that every Loup Garou feared was awaiting them before she realized that he was simply containing her. And by the time she had curled into herself, trying to stay as far from the flames as she could, they dispersed at his command, and she was pulled to him once more. Now, tenser than before, and curled against his chest before she could even react to fight him.

For the briefest moment, she was suspended, before she crashed against the cold stone, nothing but the thinnest sheet of satin to cushion the blow. It did little. The breath escaped her, and, before she could draw another, he was restricting her windpipe beneath his hand. One hand, her now free hand, went up to clutch at his wrist, trying in vain to pull his hand away. She was gasping, struggling as she knew he intended her to, to breathe, and yet he had to keep talking, provoking her. And she had to keep responding in kind. "I didn't--" Her voice was strangled, trying to gain enough air to speak as well as oxygenate her blood. "I didn't... Have that... Before..." she replied, scratching at his hand for air as her eyes began to flood once more with gold.

[Forsaken]

Somriad had planned on letting up on her windpipe if she had shown proper fear and subservience, but as she continued to fight him he drew out her suffering. "Then you have nothing, Rena, for I am certainly not kind." He spits the word out of his mouth the same way proud people would eject the word 'weak', finding the concept to be of immensely foul taste.

Placing a portion of his weight on the hand he still held trapped, he draws his legs up so that they are beneath him as he holds his torso suspended over hers. He is then able to free her other hand, and use his own to his best advantage. He would need them both in order to prepare her for his greatest pleasure. Yet even as his anger ignites sparks of bright cerulean in the flickering shades of his eyes, his touch is light and caressing as his fingers trail down her side. For he knew that the agony was greater the slower the destruction. He smiles at her through the blood, adjusting his expression into one of tender affection. The effect is flawless and immensely disturbing under the circumstances. He knows well how repulsive he must appear just now, and though this grated on his vanity the cold ruthlessness that was the foundation of who he was knew that his terrible appearance was a tool of destruction in it's own right. Beauty inspired feelings of serenity, while the gory sights of tacky blood and misshapen features ignited greater fear.

As his hand returns to caress her face, her clothing disintegrates and peels away, leaving her soft flesh as vulnerable to his merciless conduct as a ripened fruit is to frost. Once those painfully slow ministrations are complete, he meets her gaze again. "Speak again, lovely Rena. Your every word is my inspiration..." He stares into the gold of her eyes, and thinks the transition a poor choice. An animal gaze is by far weaker than that of his superior kin.

[The Imfamous AKA]

Rena came to the quick conclusion that the cruel expression on his face as he responded to her choked insult was vastly preferable to his loving, affectionate countenance as she continued to struggle for breathe. Her second hand had joined her first, hands instinctively curled to mimic claws as she tried to pull his hand from her neck. Breathing was difficult, but not impossible, letting her pull air into her slows bit by bit. The effect wasn't enough to damage her, at least not permanently, but crushing her windpipe or knocking her out, but the panic it was creating was more than bad enough. There was no strength in the hands that pulled at his wrist--the adrenaline that she had been riding on for so long was finally giving out. Panic and pain had combined to make her every move ineffectual. But the worst was still yet to come.

His touch made her tense, her already stiff muscles crying out against his stroking fingers, and his eyes made her wince, try desperately to curl away from him. His face stirred no fear in her. His eyes did, however, cruel Guardians' eyes, no matter how hard he tried to convey sweetness through his expression, his eyes were rock hard and bright blue. She had never seen a creature so happy to be causing pain. This was not the need for vengeance she had seen written on so many faces--including her own--the desire to cause pain in response to innumerable slights. This was pure, sadistic pleasure, she knew then. Even if her brain held nothing fruitful within, he wanted to drink up her pain and feed his own ego-maniacal need. And that scared her more than the threat of any pain, of any psychological damage.

The need to breath still overrode the need to cover herself as her clothes drifted away, destroyed by his touch. It didn't matter, not now, not anymore, anyway. But it was his soft, gentle touch against her face, his caress still trying to instill the affectionate quality his expression tried to create, that was so promptly followed by his sickening, twisted words, that was her undoing. Even against the restrictive hold on her throat, she managed to draw in enough air to sob, her entire body shaking with the quick motion, as her eyes shut tightly, screwed up to block out the horrible cold eyes that tried to enter her mind. She even managed to turn her head faintly--not far, just enough to strain against the hand around her neck and try to pull her flesh from his soft fingers. There was no thought of rebellion in her now, only escape. And escape was a futile hope.

[Forsaken]

Delighted with her response, Somriad laughs, and the angelic sound slices like shards of ice within this terrible setting. He seizes one of her wrists, then takes his weight off of her throat to seize the other one, and draws them both over her head. By adjusting his grip, he is able to hold both of her wrists in his larger hand. As he stretches over her in this fashion, he slides his right hand beneath her back and, forcing it it to arch, succeeds in pulling her naked flesh against his equally bare chest. His inner robe, still remaining, has fallen open and now encloses them both in it's cool, indifferent shelter.

He crushes her mouth with his, risking further injury. Yet a strange sort of pending decay in the quivering stone beneath them would warn her of his desire to reprimand her violently if she took what little advantage she had. His tongue forces it's way into her mouth as his lips meet hers, and he slides it's tip along her own, treating this orifice in a manner that reflected what would come next. His arousal stirs to life against the vulnerable opening he intended to violate next.

[The Imfamous AKA]

The air that flooded her lungs was a momentary and welcome relief, letting the swirling blackness and bright patches that had been infringing on her vision over the flames subside. But the relief was short-lived as he pinned her so effortlessly to the cold stone tablet. She twisted against his hold, fully aware that he wanted her to struggle and not being able to stop herself. It was utterly futile, but she couldn't just lay docile in his hands as he took her body from her as surely as he would try to take her mind. She couldn't just let him, not without at least this little bit of a fight.

He took advantage of her gasping breaths, claiming her mouth as surely as he would soon claim her body. She didn't dare close her sharp teeth again, already sickened by the taste of his blood, tacky and just beginning to dry on his lips as well as the fresh bite marks in his tongue, fully tangible as it stroked her own. There was no where for her to go, her head pinned between her own hands as they were pinned above her, but she still tried to wrench her hips to one side or the other, anything to escape his form between her knees. She wasn't sure how, or when he had slipped between her legs, but now she was terrified of the impending invasion, and nothing else mattered except his form over hers and trying to find some way to avoid the inevitable.

[Forsaken]

Her Guardian tormentor would let her sink back to the surface of the stone slab as he continues to raid her mouth. He does so only to free one hand, so that he may untie the sash that held the flowing fabric now drifting around each of his legs in place. It falls across her legs in a gleaming ivory puddle.

Somriad pulls his victim back into him, laughter trembling through his body as he begins the first true violation. His tactics required that this would only be the first of many. He would use her in every way he could fathom, would take from her mind all that she had to give. As he plunges inside her physical body, the offense of his mind storms hers with the overwhelming force of a wave. He would make sure she would drown.

For this, however, there was time. So much time. He could let her flounder for as long as she had the strength so fight, however many hours this may take. She would only slip under when she had grown too weak to fight him. His own pleasure lay in her strength. He could only enjoy himself for as long as she held on to her defiance, so he would discover the indignities that fueled that fire most effectively and use them to his best advantage...

[The Imfamous AKA]

She instinctively took advantage of the bit of extra room, trying to curl away from him while she had the chance. Of course, there wasn't much room for her to shrink away, but that little bit of distance was better than nothing. Even with her mouth indelibly claimed by his, his body and spirit crushing both of hers, the little bit of space between them was a tiny bit of respite. At least until he shattered that, as well. Regaining that little bit of space and having it taken away from her only made her chest ache with fear that little bit more. She did have to give him one thing: he was good at what he did.

And when he pushed against her, through her, both at her mind, and at her body, she nearly broke. The pain was sharp as he destroyed her innocence--years of nothing but training and stealing had left little room in her mind or life for explicit encounters or lasting relationships. Had she known the hardships her body would go through before she died so early, she would have made the time and put forth the effort rather than this being her first and only experience in anything even remotely sexual. It was a damn good thing that she would be dead soon. Surviving this might very well kill her.

She gasped against his mouth, unintentionally opening further for him. The pain would not have been so much, what with her panic, if she wasn't already in so much pain, if she hadn't already exhausted the adrenalin she was riding on. Her eyes snapped open, purple and gold blurring together as, for the first time since her arrival in the cell, her eyes began to water and a single tear rolled off her face.

Her entire mind was open under that barrage, no matter how she had tried to block him, and, in that instance, he was offered the memory that she had been frantically searching, trying to find a way to keep him out before he entered.

Seeing through her eyes, there was little he could see. Much as they were now, her eyes were blurred with tears, though she tried desperately to hold them in. She was seated on the ground, the cold hard ground, looking down at her knees. Her breathing was difficult to control, difficult to pull air into her lungs, as though thoroughly exhausted. The situation, from within her, seemed almost eerily similar, despair and loathing--this time aimed at herself--riding high through her mind and the air.

"I can't do it!" she said softly, hating herself for her inability to master the task set before her.

"You must!" came the insistent and booming reply. He never raised his voice, and it startled her into looking up. Her eyes focused through the unshed tears on the slightly blurred face of an older man, mousy hair, going grey, that was pulled back behind his neck. From below, he looked huge, his strength and height imposing over the much smaller girl collapsed beneath him. Even from beneath, something was wrong with his eyes, the thin film of cataracts clouding them. He was half-blind, but he didn't let his own shortcomings stop him from training his charge to the highest standards.

"You say you want to go back to Manticore! You say you want to make a difference!" The words were harsh, but necessary. She needed to hear what he said, no matter how much it hurt. "What if they catch you, pup? What then? Do you plan on leaving her here as you go off crusading?" She shook her head, almost unnoticeably, not that he would see the tiny motion anyway. Separation for that long was not an option. "What if they catch you? This is what they do: break minds! If you cannot keep my feeble mind from yours, what hope do you have against a Guardian? ANSWER ME, PUP!"

She cringed, hating his bellowing voice, so different that the soft one that had soothed her when she came running after the attack on her family, so different that the strong, kind tones that had guided through the Wastes to Wyvern, so different that then firm, gruff tones that still betrayed his affection for his makeshift ward, even as he tried to mold her into a usable form for the Rebellion one day. "None at all," she whispered, knowing he was right. If she only had to learn one thing before returning to the city of her birth to fight the war she was meant to, it was this. She hung her head once more.

"Damnit, pup, look at me!" he commanded, and her head snapped up once more, alarmed. "You cannot protect her if you cannot protect this."[/b] His finger gently pressed against her forehead. "They will break in, plunder everything they can. If they catch you and you cannot defend yourself, all will be lost. Not only you, but that sweet little girl who relies so heavily on you and everything that the Rebellion trusts you with." She nodded, still shaking faintly, her fear revealing her age to be quite a few years younger than the Rena in the cell.

"Now. We'll try this again. And again. Until either you get it right, or what this decaying world calls 'dawn' arrives. And then, you may rest." He steps back, and Rena straightens her spine once more.

"Yes, Master," she murmured, sitting back on her heels and letting her eyes drift shut. Through the swirling blackness behind her eyes, only his voice remains.

"Shut yourself in. Pull into yourself. Condense. The tighter then better; fewer cracks for them to exploit. There is nothing. Nothing except [/i]you, nothing except your own head. Nothing else exists..."[/b][/i]

The memory cut off sharply, and with it, many other things. It seemed that, under the words of her Master, so long ago, she managed to, at last, accomplish the lesson. Somriad was not forced from her mind, but rather, she withdrew so completely that he was left in the absolute emptiness that was left. Or, rather, not quite emptiness. There was a tiny bit of consciousness left, so tightly wound it seemed almost impenetrable. It was not a fortress. There were no walls to barrage. There were no cracks to pry apart.

Her mind had been an open room from him to enter and peruse the contents to his liking, and now those contents had been condensed into the tiniest of sparks. The room was now empty, but for a small marble, resting in the center.

[Forsaken]

So his lovely victim had been a virgin. How much sweeter this conquest seemed for that realization! Since he had been her first lover, he was the one to define for her what such intimacy was. Without having been taught another version, she had nothing to hold on to, nothing to remind her of what intimacy could be when shared with a softer, human partner. Her ignorance made her weaker. She would succumb to him, for she could know of no other way and he gave her no other option.

Yet as his mind spilled into hers, he was met with a very strong memory. He watches with vage interest and wonders who this master of hers had been, this man who knew of defying Guardians. He would have to make a note of finding him. The man must be destroyed. Even as he notes the necessity of having the man disposed of his concern is distant. For Rena's former master's approach appeared faulty and ineffective...until the girl demonstrated for him what her master had preached.

Somriad stands in the empty room that is her mind, hatred building behind the piercing spark of his eyes as blue fire ripples over his skin. He walks toward that smallest fragment of condensed memory with carefully measured steps, this time careful to maintain his control. If he could not terrorize, he would analyze. He kneels beside this small fragment that was everything Rena ever was, and laughs coldly. It was damned little. Impossible to read, but perhaps easier to capture. Here she was in her entirety, everything packed cleanly in a bundle small enough to settle easily on his palm. A bundle that, perhaps, he could take with him. Surely she would burn just as well without her mind and soul. A cruel smile creeps back onto Somriad's displeased lips as he reaches for the still fragment.

[The Imfamous AKA]

Within and without, there was no response to his cruel anger, nor his cruel smile. However, as he neared the tiny sphere of glass that sat in the center of the empty room of her mind, only when his touch was the tiniest, most imperceptible distance from the cool glass, did it react. It jerks, seeming to turn inside out, as the smooth edges became jagged, sharp, and twisted. Rather than a simple, unassuming marble, the glass was now razor sharp and cutting into his fingers, which were practically upon it when it shifted. Outside of Rena's mind, her only other reaction was the faintest of twitches as her mind defended itself, offering up a reflexive warning strike.

[Forsaken]

Somriad presses his lips together as he retrieves his hand, which had registered the pain but did not shed any blood. His body, after all, was not physical here. Intently, he sets his fiercely narrowed gaze upon the small sphere and analyzes the plans of action available to him. So, she was still aware of his presence to some extent. Marvelous. She was not at all safe from the cruel, razor's edge of his dark promises. She was still portable, as well, even if the small gem of her sentience had teeth.

Well, for creatures who did not know better to keep their fangs sheathed in the presence of a superior the world had designed cages.

He melds the blue fire of his aura into a gleaming, azure sphere, but does not have a chance to coax his creation into swallowing the mind of his victim. As he the sphere cools to a deeper blue, the collective consciousness of his kin reaches out to him, and he must answer. A pair of especially unbalanced, blood-related Forsaken had turned on their whimsical master and his assistance was needed in destroying them. Somriad inquires impatiently about Mireta, the one best suited for jobs such as these as she was most dependable and especially strong, but it turns out the serpentine Forsaken was on a mission elsewhere. The Guardian's needed their Amplus Magister to take care of the situation before it grew still more severe. A pair of renegade Forsaken had been known to turn others against their master's in the past, and no one cared to clean up after a revolt.

Somriad tensed his jaw with frustration in the physical world, told his colleagues that he would soon be there in moments to diffuse the situation, and prepares to retreat from Rena's mind. For now. Once again, it seemed, he had abruptly run out of time to continue his game. "I will be back shortly, Rena." He speaks clearly and with confidence, but does not offer her any further clue as to what it is he has begun to plan for her. If she remained in her condensed state, he would remove her and she would forever be a captive in a prison of her own making. If she chose to return to her normal state of mind, he would be able to take what he wanted from her when he came back. Once again, he tasted victory and this made him lenient.

He retrieves himself from Rena's mind without another word, disentangles himself from her now unresponsive body, and calls his clothing back into it's proper placement with a slight flex of power. His nose he casts under an illusion, for now. He could not present an injured facade to his followers. Once order had been restored and all forces of the day had been conquered he would send for a doctor, but there was no time for such things now.

So he leaves his captives cell, it's structure compromised by his drain upon it, her body violated, a lovely reptile crushed and lifeless on the floor. Only he appears flawless and whole when he leaves her behind.

[The Imfamous AKA]

The marble shook faintly before curling back into itself, a perfect sphere once more as he gathered the flames to capture her. Though her consciousness was contained in the tiny glass ball, they were still in her mind, and she had another defense to employ now that there was some distance between them. However, before the glass could split again, he withdrew even further. The faintest quiver of confusion shook the tiny orb, causing it to roll back as he pulled himself from her mind. However, it wasn't until the cell door was closed between them that her sentience exploded from the tiny marble.

The noise that escaped Rena as her eyes lost their dull glaze was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She curled into herself, her eyes slamming shut, as she clutched her chest, trying desperately to breathe. The motion jerked her into an upright position, trying desperately to pull air into her lungs, but it just as quickly fled in her hyperventilating sobs. She was consumed by panic, knowing that her reprieve was momentary. Her defense was incomplete, easily circumvented, though not easily breached. There were only so many ways for her to defend herself within her own mind, and her mind still registered the pain that her body was in, even as she shut herself off.

She had lost all rationality, and did not know if she could regain it before Somriad returned.

Her eyes flickered back open, slowly registering her unchanged surroundings. She was surrounded by the grey darkness once more--even her own skin had paled from panic and blood loss. With a slow turn of her head, her eyes focus on the only color in the room beside her own eyes--the splashes of her own dried blood and fresher ones, from her tormentor... and the poor, deceased little lizard that had been killed to prove a point. Suddenly, all she can see is blue--brilliant, vibrant blue. The blue of robes and flames and frozen eyes.

Rena kicked against the palette, trying to push herself away from the offending burst of color that assaulted her eyes. Grey. Grey was good. What had happened to the grey? Before she even realized she was moving, she hit the floor hard, squeezing her eyes shut as she absorbed the jarring shock of her soft body hitting the hard stone. But with her eyes closed, it was worse. With her eyes closed, there wasn't just a blue film over everything she saw. She was surrounded, consumed, by the color and the threat it had come to represent in her mind.

She snapped her eyes back open, and found herself facing the grey stone that had been the floor before he had morphed it into a sickening form of a bed for his purposes. Rena simply could not win. Even without him before her to torment her to insanity, she was doing it herself. She briefly considered retreating into her own mind--knowing instinctively that now that she had achieved the state, she could repeat it--but decided against it almost as quickly. If her fears were already manifesting in her conscious mind, then she had no desire to see how horrifying they would be when she was locked up within herself once more.

She didn't know which would be worse: turning into herself when Somriad returned, or facing him as he would try to rape her into submission once more. It was only from the shock and the cold robbing her fingers of their dexterity--as well as the missing digit--that she dismissed the notion of fashioning a noose from her discarded clothing. Surely he would return before she could kill herself.

[Forsaken]

Never before had seconds stretched so convincingly into seeming hours. Starsight glances into each cell as she passes with utmost care, approaching every door in a scavenger's crouch as she rises slowly to gaze into the barred windows. Her every sense was alert and tuned into those of Whitescar, whose senses were superior in every arena save for that of sight. Most cells were empty, gaping mouths that sucked hungrily at her as though they meant to draw her in. Or so it seemed to the young rebel, who detested imprisonment with phobic intensity just as most of her ilk did. Before she reached Rena she passed only one occupied cell. Her hands close around the cold iron bars and she pulls her face closer as she looks in.

This prisoner had collapsed just in front of the door, one grimy hand outstretched toward the thick sheet of metal that lay between him and her. He looked very young, somewhere around her own age, and nowhere near old enough for the lines despair had etched so deeply in his face that they remained even while he was unconscious. Starsight remains for a few long seconds, wanting to free him along with Rena and Kite. Yet she knew deep down that she was limited in her abilities, with the odds stacked precariously against her, and if it turned out that she could only save one person on this trip she wanted that person to be one of her friends. Even if she would never consciously acknowledge as much.

Instead, as she slowly backs away, she tells herself that she can't save someone who is unable to move under his own power. The three of them would have to move fast and with careful silence, and this young man could only hinder them and put the entire mission into jeopardy. And so she moves on, never mind the fact that if that young man were Kite instead she would break into the room and try to carry him out of there if she had to. And Rena. She would do the same for Rena, too.

Two more empty rooms brought them to the end of this stretch of cells and right to the joint of an L bend in the hallway. The rescue trio had another corner to turn and as they draw near Whitescar's growing tension gives her partner reason to pause. Starsight looks back to the Redeemer and holds up a hand in a gesture to stop, listening intently for any stray noise as she does so. A couple of tense seconds tick by. She hears the clink of chains, a familiar strained voice. Her stomach clenches. Whitescar does not relax, letting her know that something is especially wrong just ahead. Yet the young rebel must move forward. She would not turn back, could not do nothing, and so she does something she hardly ever does. She ignores the silent warning of her closest friend and proceeds, slowly sticking her head out around the corner and creeping forward when her eyes met with an empty hallway.

Through the barred window of the first cell her wide eyes find Lena, and she barely stifles a sharp gasp of horror and outrage. Kite is still ahead, but Lena is here, and she looks so hurt and damaged that Tawny reaches for the door's handle and pulls it open without considering the consequences...

Consequences that strike through her mind like a lightning bolt, disrupting her thoughts and displacing her spirit. Her vision shifts sharply, dropping lower as strange and unlikely slices of her field of vision sink into blackness.

Starsight collapses, crippled by the vicious curse that had lain latent in the door's handle in wait for any unauthorized individual who tried to walk out. Or in. As the rebel falls, Whitescar tumbles out of her hood, just as stunned as her partner. The rat rises to her hind feet, places her paws on her head with a wince, and abruptly panics, emitting a high-pitched squeak of surprise as she darts back toward Starsight. The rebel had lifted herself into a skittish crouch, and she looks toward Whitescar now with an abnormal look of intense wariness in her eyes. Whitescar leaps upon her arm and scrambles up to her shoulder, and as the rat settles upon her usual perch the girl regains her lively expression and struggles to her feet. Reeling still, she pulls the door the rest of the way open and manages to slip inside without stumbling.

The young rebel was going to pay for her recklessness later. Was already paying for it now. Something had changed forever when she first touched that door handle. She had merged with Whitescar in the most unlikely fashion and it was difficult to continue to function as she was used to. Still, she is alive, still conscious, and she is here for a reason that she means to see through to the end. "Rena," She calls softly. Her voice resonates strangely within her own ears. She moves forward and drops to her knees with a stuttering jerkiness in her descent, slipping out of her cloak. Her rat nearly tumbles from her shoulder and Tawny flings one hand back to catch her. The room spins so wildly that her offended stomach threatens to revolt, but Tawny grit her teeth and ignored that as she flung her cloak around Rena and pulled her into a fierce hug. "We have to get you out of here. Before anything else happens.

((Sorry if I rushed that, Rojo. I'm just anxious to get CM rolling again. But if you want me to break this post up somewhere in the middle so that Dr. Strange will have a better chance to react to all of this, just let me know! I won't mind splitting this post up or modifying it if necessary. And yes, I did dream up one messed up twist for Tawny. I'll discuss it more in her later posts.))

[Rojo]

The eerie aura that seemed to rise from the walls like mist did not affect the madman who scuttled unevenly behind Starsight and Whitescar. The Mad Redeemer poked his face into cells after his companion had, even when he could tell from her expression that they did not contain either of the people they were looking for. He would move in his crouched, side-stepping ape-like way and then he would stop in front of a window and hop like a frog once to look inside, then move to the next. When it came to the one with the man inside, The Mad Redeemer took several small jumps before he seemed satisfied and moved on. Somewhere, something inside him told him that perhaps it would have been the right thing to help the man too, but Starsight had not stopped. . .she would have stopped if it were wrong, wouldn't she? Starsight was his brave and true apprentice, his Bucky if you will. . .the Redeemer shook his head and carried on, bumping abruptly and nearly falling backwards as his sidekick suddenly held up a hand. He froze, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, arms resting on his knees.
Starsight moved around the corner and the Mad Redeemer hustled up to the corner and peered round, four marigold rubber fingers and one marigold rubber thumb held the corner where the two walls met and the Redeemer saw as Starsight gripped the door handle, the expression of astonishment on her face and it was as if. . .she had been struck by a bolt of lightning and she shuddered, collapsing to the ground. There was a cry from Whitescar and the Redeemer rushed forward, anxious to help his friend. He brandished the large fork with one hand towards the end of the empty corridor incase some invisible enemy had stricken his sidekick. The Mad Redeemer looked upon his companions, eyes flickering between them and full of worry as Starsight slowly got to her feet much like the drunkards did. He followed her slowly, still watching for her collapse as she moved into the room and fell upon the person inside. Over her shoulder, the Redeemer could see the face of someone he vaguely recognized and after a short jaunt through his rather touch and go memory retrieved her as a member of the Rebellion and slightly more importantly someone they were here to rescue. He nodded in his hurried, 'neck-with-no-bones' fervour and turned on the spot like a dog chasing its tail.
"Found found FOUND her!" He cried, but still in his ridiculous stage whisper "must maaaake haaaas-te! Gofastgofast!" He whirled the enormous fork over his head and gave a manic grin, reading to engage any challengers who might stand in his way, to impale them on the fork of justice!

((Well, if we're apologizing for things I should apologize for the length. I'm terrified of getting into a habit of not posting again but still, I suppose this will do *Sigh*))

[The Imfamous AKA]

As the door opened, Rena curled into herself more tightly, not knowing how he had returned so quickly, not knowing how she was beginning to lose stretches of time, just knowing that it was probably a bad thing. Her need for rebellion, for keeping up her resistance was gone, and she no longer cared how much satisfaction Somriad received from her shows of submission, and as such, had no pretenses left to give him.

In her utterly defensive state, the swing of cloth around her shoulders followed by a grasp that was comforting rather than punishing sent a wave of confusion through her. She struggled faintly, not understanding the change, until she took in the golden brown tone of Tawny's hair, and realized that there was no such warmth in Somriad. She ceased fighting the hold and froze in confusion, not comprehending. It wasn't until she felt the faintest brush against her shoulder of the tiny form of Skip, moving about beneath Tawny's clothes, that the pieces fell into place.

She relaxed immediately, her tense muscles seeming almost to turn to fluid, as though this one bit of comfort, this one bit of hope, had completely destroyed her defenses. The thought never crossed her mind--even though it should have, having her reality challenged once--that this was just another form of attack by Somriad. It would have been effective, because her surrender was complete. Her arms came up, and she clutched the younger girl desperately, clinging with every ounce of strength she had left. "Tawny..." she whispered, thanks and desperation clear in her voice.

[Forsaken]

"It'll be okay now, Rena. Just wait. We are rebels, and tomorrow is our day." Tawny glances back at Dr. Strange while she whispers her words to Rena. The mad man is just itching to be on the move again, being full of the kind of wild, crazy energy that she could plug into and use to keep going. She smiles at him and pushes to her feet, carefully pulling Rena with her. She really hopes Rena can walk. Tawny herself is so shaky and disoriented from the nasty curse that blasted her...there was no way she was going to be able to do this by herself.

"Hey, Mad Redeemer, can you keep watch for a second?" Starsight turns to Rena and continues in a low tone of voice that she was clearly hoping wouldn't be overheard. "Will you be able to walk with us? And is Kite here, too?" She was in danger of asking too many questions too soon. But she had to know. If they had a chance of saving him as well, she would find a way.