people are strange

ind. sel. priv. multimuse. written by gia.

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked‌:

                 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒,      estrella didn’t exactly feel safe.   still,   if her options were to stay with this woman or continue to wander the continent,   unattended and starving ?   she’ll pick the former.   despite being  suspicious,   this woman was the best chance she had at staying alive.   at the question of her father,   there’s a shrug of her shoulders.   gaze dropping for a moment before it lifts to meet with zilana,   clear and   PIERCING.    ❛    he taught me a lot of things.   he also taught me not to trust  strangers.    ❜    there’s a pause,   thinking about the men in the forest.   she remembered them,   remembered their grabbing hands.   but,   nothing  more.   brows knit as frame leans forward.    ❛    those  men   —   the ones in the forest.   what happened to them ?   did you hurt them ?    ❜

                A SMIRK FORMS BRIEFLY     before fading.   her expression hardening to a more serious one.   her suspicions had just been confirmed   ——  this child was truly oblivious.   completely unaware of what carnage was caused by her own hand.   what good would telling the truth do ?   zilana had no obligation to this child.  this child who appeared to have nobody else.   nowhere left to go.   no child would be running terrified through the forest had she a comfortable place to lay her head and a mother and father to hold her tight.   surely an incident like that would happen again,   had she been left to fend for herself.   a bundle of volatile power disguised as a little girl.   tempestuous and merciless.   a moment of complete unbridled emotion resulting in a forest incarnadined.   the truth could help no more than zilana’s guidance.

                    Opening her mouth to speak,   she stutters.   unsure of what lie to disguise as the truth.   what would please a child most to hear ?   that one could cause harm to another living creature is not comforting.   there will always remain the fear that the same thing could happen to you,   given the right circumstances.   to let the enemy live is not comforting either,   one will always worry they may come back.   perhaps no lie or truth will ever be perfect enough.   storytelling no doubt a skill zilana will have to hone over time.     ❛    I made a deal with them.     ❜    lips puffing up to blow steam away from her tea.     ❛    if they let you go   ——  I would not tell their mothers on them.     ❜    smiling briefly before sipping her tea.     ❛    I don’t like to hurt people.     ❜

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked·:

                𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖      at the appearance of the fruit.   she’s not sure if this woman was making a point to show off that she was a  mage,   or if this was all some plan to get estrella to trust her.   either way,   one must  never  bite the hand that feeds them   —   and she was   DESPERATE.   fingertips extend outwards,   tentatively taking the apple from the table.    ❛    thank you,    ❜    she mutters so as not to forget her  manners.   whether its an expression of gratitude for the food or for the compliment on her name,   it works to encompass both.

               a sizable bite is taken,   hitting her stomach with a   SHOCK.   it’d been over a week since she’d had fresh food that wasn’t stolen and  riddled  with guilt.    ❛    i don’t know exactly.   i think eight or nine days.   but it’s hard to tell after a while.   i was  trying  to follow the rise of the sun.   then i ended up in the forest and got   REALLY   lost.    —   do you live here ?   in the forest ?   is that where we are ?    ❜

                 MIND SHUFFLING THROUGH     the barrage of questions the child had just hurled at her,   a slight smirk tugging at her lips.   there was always a certain quality every child possessed.   they tended to speak too freely.   clearly even powerful children were no different.   was this child even aware of her own power ?   from the way she spoke,   it seemed that she was not.   oblivion can be extorted  ——  if met by the wrong sort of people.   something zilana was well aware of.

                ❛    yes,   i live here in the forest.    ❜    voice lowers to a hush,   as if to tell a secret.     ❛    you’re safe here with me.    ❜    smiling briefly before reaching back to grab the teapot set on a table beside her chair,   filling a separate cup for herself.   she desperately wanted to appear likable to this child.   a feeling she was unfamiliar with throughout her years of solitude.    ❛    it was a very smart thing you did  ——  following the sun.   did your papa teach you that ?    ❜

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked·:

              𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑      throw her for a whirlwind,   mind still feeling fuzzy and her body feeling heavy.   everything seemed   WRONG   now,   like this wasn’t how things were  supposed  to be.   cormond was in ruins,   laid to waste by some unknown horde.   still,   despite that feeling,   estrella can’t afford to turn down a potential friend.   she’s tired,   famished,   and the luxury of a roof over her head and a cot under her was something she’d  dearly  missed,   despite how simple.   ashen hues lock with the woman’s for a moment before dropping to the cup pushed towards her.   her own hands reach for it,   taking a few large drinks before setting it back down.

           another brief silence is let into the air between them.    ❛    ella   —   i mean,   estrella dred of cormond.   but my parents call me ella.   my sister,   too.    ❜    she says it as if there’s   ANY   belief that her family’s still alive.   she’d stopped to look back only once before fleeing.   by the time she did,   cormond was in  flames  and she could still hear the screams.   though still a child,   she knows it to be foolish to believe her family could have survived.   and something deep inside her told her they weren’t.   almost as if she just   KNEW   what became of them.

                 A SMALL SMILE PULLS AT HER LIPS      children have always been a bit of a mystery to her.   something she has always wanted,   but has never entertained the thought too much.   she liked being alone.   rather she preferred being alone.   other people were never of much use to her.   and a solitary life was something she was very good at.   certainly not a life suited to a child.   still a thought lingered somewhere in her mind that maybe this life could suit a child.   maybe.

              ❛    ella.    ❜    she echoes,   voice high in pitch.    ❛    a pretty name for a pretty girl.    ❜    leaning in,   holding out a slender hand,   palm facing up.   a red apple materializes in her hand,   leaving a trace of smoke in the air around it.   another helpful ability,   though limited to organic material only.   placing the apple on the table in front of ella,   she speaks quietly.   ❛    you must be so hungry.    ❜    she glances towards ella,   watching her movements and expressions.    ❛    how long were you out there by yourself ?    ❜

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked·:

            𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄,      only the men that had tried to take her and the  fear  that overwhelmed her body.   she’d been wandering for what felt like weeks and those men were the first people she’d seen in at  least  three days.   but,   their ill met fate is not in her memory,   exhaustion having taken over her,   sparing her from seeing the   MONSTROSITY   of a scene she’d created with their bodies.

           when eyes do flutter open,   there’s a moment of  panic  as she’s surrounded by unfamiliar territory.   frame flings itself upwards,   taking note of the warm glow of candlelight,   the cot underneath her,   and the stone walls.   she was in someone’s home and estrella can only  pray  it’s not the home of the men she’d encountered.   head whips,   catching sight of the woman who sits in a chair,   no doubt  watching  her.   a dark haired woman,   pronounced features and scowling expression.   this was not a woman among those men.   this was someone new.

           estrella is silent for a moment,   feeling as if she’s lost her voice suddenly.   throat  tightens  and her lips part to speak,   but   NOTHING   comes out.   eyebrows knit on her expression,   shifting frame to face the woman a bit more.   when she finally  does  speak,   her voice comes out hoarse and meek.    ❛    who are you ?    ❜

                   STEAM RISING FROM HER TEACUP     stirring a small silver spoon around,   clinking melodically against the sides of the black porcelain cup.   eyes look over the child,   now that she can see her clearly.   one can only learn so much from someone who is sleeping.   voice sounded timid and scared,   though her eyes did not show the same emotion.   eyes were wide with fire.   not fear.   her power may be unknown to her,   but she certainly knew enough to feel secure.

                  tapping the spoon gently on the rim of the cup,   taking a small sip before setting the cup down on a small table between them.    ❛    my name is zilana of trogue.    ❜    voice hushed intently,   trying not to scare the child.    ❛    you can call me zilana  ——   if you like.    ❜    a hand reaches out towards the teacup,   gently scooting it towards the child.    ❛    want to tell me your name ?    ❜ 

[cliniicals]

@heavenwalked​

                    LEAVES SWIRL AROUND     dancing,   fluttering in the cool evening breeze.   zilana waits    ——   listening intently.   for what,   she doesn’t know.   it’s a feeling.   a strange pull beckoning her from the forest she calls her home.   these feelings don’t come often,   nor do they pull her with such intensity as this one.   something powerful,   perhaps too powerful,   looming closer and closer as she waits.   dark eyes shift as she turns slowly,   taking in her surroundings.   analyzing every movement,   every shift in energy.   a mouse burrowing quietly in the underbrush.   an owl flapping its wings somewhere not too far overhead,   most likely scoping out its prey under the setting sun.   all of the usual forest happenings.   yet something is still out of sorts.   the gentle humming in the air giving it away.   and ability zilana was born with and honed over many years of practice.   a useful ability when you’re the only living soul for miles.

                   whipping around,   she pauses.   footsteps  —  light and small in stride.   definitely not animal,   but a child.   eyebrows furrow in confusion.   the sounds don’t match the pull of the energy.   not for a child.   not even for a well educated mage.   though she was never wrong.   it had to be a lost child.   or an abandoned child.   she steps forward with caution,   each step silent and carefully calculated,   drawing closer to the pull and the sound.   stopping suddenly,   hiding herself behind a tree as the source comes into view.   a child no older than ten wandering aimlessly through the forest,   fumbling over fallen branches and stones.   though disheveled,   she did not look like an abandoned child.   her clothes were torn and dirty,   but were well stitched.   work only afforded by nobles or royals.   she had to be lost,   as it was clear she had been loved.   she watches quietly,   considering her options.   this child would certainly succumb to the elements without her help.

                   a sharp voice calls out,   pulling herself from her thoughts.   head snaps towards the sound,   taken completely off guard as she spots a man calling out to the child.   not just one man,   but five.   bandits most likely.   how she didn’t hear them,   zilana did not know.   she was aware of every living creature in this forest,   yet these men went undetected.   perhaps the pull of this child was so strong,   it muffled the pull of these men.   she had only taken notice of the child.   a power no living man had ever possessed.   commotion erupts as the men take notice of the child,   swarming her,   grabbing at her dress.   most likely looking for her sign.    a strong wind blowing suddenly,   throwing black tendrils into zilana’s view.   silence falls as suddenly as the commotion had started.   tendrils fall from view,   revealing a scene of carnage.   body parts thrown,   blood spattered in an ornate pattern.   the child laying unharmed in the center of it all. 

                 stepping out from behind the tree,   making her way towards the child carefully.    stepping over limbs and various belongings,   now reduced to splinters and ash.   small mounds of dirt had been dug up,   following behind torn limbs.   as if everything had been thrown to the ground with immense force.    blood painting the trees red.   chaos and carnage she like had never seen before.   hand raises to her mouth,   stifling a gag.   stopping,   looming over the child.   laying still as if she were asleep.   not a drop of blood on her.   her pull buzzing in the air all around her now,   strong and melodic.   she glances over her shoulder,   watching and waiting for any signs of life.   the forest lay silent.   no breeze blowing.   no mice burrowing.   no owls flapping their wings overhead.   dead silence.    looking back towards the child,   she pauses briefly before bending down to scoop her up.   stepping back from the carnage and walking off into the darkness. 

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked‌:

                       𝑨𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑺      to make lucrèce’s drink,   she takes a moment to study the room.   photos decorate the tables and a hand reaches to lift one up for further inspection.   it’s an old looking photo of a little girl who is almost undoubtedly grown now,   but still it piques her interest.   the inquiry pulls her attention back to greta,   now sitting in a worn chair.   the photo is returned and she takes a seat on the sofa near the older woman.    ❛    claudia.      ——   is that your daughter ?    ❜    head swivels back to the photo,   lifting chin to motion towards it.

                     ❛    yes,   nicola.     ❜    green eyes focusing on her own cup of coffee.    ❛    she’s in paris now.     ❜    eyes now lifting,   intentionally making eye contact.     ❛    and i’m left here.   they grow up too fast.     ❜    flashing a small smile to lighten the mood.   no action is without reason,   and now she is hoping to create a sense of empathy.   to gain trust.     ❛    do you have children ?   a husband ?     ❜

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked‌:

                  𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑺 𝑽𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 ??      it was not often that she was well informed of the nature of her mark,   but they were part of the job for a reason.   still,   this woman seems friendly enough,   though she wouldn’t let her guard down.   there’s another smile,   a bit more sincere this time around, as head nods.   she takes the opportunity to step past the woman and into her home.   it feels old and brings in a strange sense of nostalgia.   coat is stripped off and draped over her arm as eyes track to greta.    ❛    your accent   ——   paris   ?   ❜

                      ❛    yes.     ❜    keeping her answer simple,   shuffling away to make the coffee.     ❛    you’re french too,   yes  ?     ❜     her voice calling from the other room.   though,   she didn’t leave any room for an answer.      ❛    somehow,   we both ended up here.     ❜    a smile on her face as she reenters the room,   pouring a cup of coffee for the woman.     ❛    darling,   you didn’t tell me your name.     ❜ 

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked‌:

                   𝑳𝑰𝑷𝑺 𝑷𝑼𝑳𝑳 𝑻𝑶 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑨 𝑶𝑭 𝑨 𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑬.      the hand reaches out,   handing over the satchel to its rightful owner.    ❛    the metro   ——    ❜    speech cuts off,   taking a mere second to glance the woman up and down.   she’s a lot   —   smaller than lucrèce had expected  . still,   gaze returns to the other woman,   another warm smile curving rosy lips.    ❛    you are lucky it was me who found it and not someone who would have run off with it.   there are a lot of   DESPERATE   people around here.    ❜

                      ❛    you’re right.    ❜     a warm laugh filling the air,   almost trying too hard to seem personable.   she notices the woman’s accent,   her mind swarming with questions,   already taking a liking to her.   it was always the same feeling.   the same idealization.   wondering what could become of such a simple interaction.   a feeling greta craved,   like an addiction.      ❛    would you like to come in ?     ❜    hoping she says yes,   wanting a chance to learn more.     ❛    for coffee.   please,   it’s the least i can do.     ❜

[cliniicals]

heavenwalked‌:

                   𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑻𝑪𝑯 𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑷𝑺,     foreign purse in hand before the other lifts to rap knuckles against the wood.   shoulder roll,   back straightening as she awaits an answer from the other side.   a voice calls out,   muffled,   but lucrèce can assume she’s asking who it is.   slate hues pry to see past the curtain blocking the door’s window,   hoping to see any semblance of movement.    ❛    greta hideg ?   i believe i found something of yours.    ❜

                      it’s always the same feeling deep down.   giddy,   like a child on christmas day.   shuffling to the mirror,   hands brushing quickly through auburn hair.   composing herself the same as she had composed herself many times before.   the routine becoming more like a stage show,   an act she was playing well.   peeking through the curtains,   examining the slender blonde on the other side before opening the door.     ❛    yes ?     ❜    a small smile following her question.   eyes catch on her familiar green purse.     ❛    oh,   bless your heart !     ❜    her rehearsed words slightly hint at an accent.     ❛    where did you find it ?     ❜