welcome
otm
otm
site video
social media
shoutbox
Latest Shouts In The Shoutbox -- View The Shoutbox · Rules Collapse  


shoutbox

 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 Do Not Call Up Any That You Can Not Put Down, .:| Captain Hook & Red Riding Hood |:.
Morgan le Faye
 Posted: Jun 4, 2017 | 10:10 pm
Quote

Queen of Air & Darkness
player: Jess
86 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 26



user posted image


Nightmares were such troublesome things. One could tell a lot about the deepest horrors that dwelled in the hearts of men; some feared a loss of power, others a loss of self. Some still clung to the primordial fear of that which lurked in darkness deep. But others still, harbored the fear of what they could not bear to name. Bear to name… or Lose.

The Blood Moon craved all the offerings of fear offered up to it by the Shadow Queen. Be it soaked in blood or madness the only common thread that wound this Disenchanted Forest was the entropy of Terror. And while it had tasted many a victim since the Forever Boy Once King of Neverland had fallen no heart clenching dread was quite as sweet as those of halcyon and adamant.

It was one such Inamorato that stalked through her Domain; he was coming from a Dark Castle that was coated in a spiderweb of magic that even her claws couldn’t rend open for just the tiniest peek inside. Not a soul had ventured in or out that she had seen, though truth be told the stone monolith barely held her attention. That is until a man bore down upon it on horseback as if the hounds of hell truly were nipping at his heels. The Shadow Queen leaned forward, it’s black eyes narrowing as it waited for the figure to abandon the castle walls for the forest outside once more. She, it, they were bored; the party it had gathered all and sundry to had played it’s course and few dared the weald anymore. Why had he?

The Queen had lost it’s interest by the time the man had stalked out of the citadel; but the living bedlam of it’s Curse had no such whims to be followed. The ichor lined mist lapped at his ankles, testing his perception. The air became heady with sickly sweet jasmine and the flowers of Skull Rock as it weighed the best course of phantasm to torment the valiant Sailor Bold as his feet wandered just off the garden path. Where bone thin trees gave way to the broken pikes and discarded standards of long since sun bleached flags marked the outer skirmishes of the war torn wasteland. It was a face that was at the forefront of his mind, and a fear that beat four times within his chest.

A name.

A benediction.

…A victim.



.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíokay so funny story; this was originally going to be a post with the quidam account but halfway through it felt more like the villain doing something deliberately and this is the first time i have been inspired to write for her in forever so briiiiiiiiiiiief villain cameo and now onto red and hook… sorry if it’s confusing but i was going for one of those really dramatic scenes in tv where we see one scene for a quick little bit and then jump into the main action. hopefully this isn’t dumb?

scáthánoutfit url unimportant so just ignore

céilíthe dark and haunted forest and the howling of wolves

ina dhiaidh sintechnically myself as red and then hook, as for morgan she is fin

--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Jun 4, 2017 | 11:44 pm
Quote

Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
157 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 41



user posted image

Deep into that darkness peering,
long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming
dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.



They were coming…

She had lost track of how long they had been running her down like some rabbit desperate for it’s warren. Or how many of the bastards dogged her steps. Truth be told she knew the minute she had made her fatal mistake; how she lingered too long outside the party, when the shadows grew just a touch too long and what amounted to wilderness about the Castle’s walls fell deathly still and quiet. She knew better of course; Never run from anything Immortal, it draws their attention. But they weren’t immortal and she knew only the guilty ran.

The ball had been such a catastrophic failure so finding quiet outside the fountain seemed logical. He had asked her to stay so she stayed. But Red doubted the pirate meant for her to take it laying down when the rather rowdy soldiers began to side eye her. Spoilt on drink and a night of merriment cut early, they were looking for trouble. At first it was nothing more than leering looking and grabbing hands, tugging at her cloak and circling her like a pack of chittering hyena. It was a turn of Fate itself, the spiteful bitch, that had her recognize them the same time they did her. These were not simply soldiers on revelry from the outlying provinces. No; these were men from Märchen Wölfe and they knew exactly who the girl in the cloak was.


…fuck…

They were gaining on her again. She had thought she lost them in the bramble when she had slid down the step rock face of the ravine that lined the bank of the river. At first her instinct was to turn towards her pack and her den. Get the others and either end the fight with intimidation or fight their way out. But her wolves were nowhere to be found in mind nor fur and Red would be damned if she gave these arrogant pricks a escort to her front door. So she took to the riverbed, only giving a thought towards the spot where she met Quinn all those years ago. Up and over a downed and water rotted log, skidding along the gravel as the sounds of hounds braying behind her pricked oversensitive ears.

It was the pounding of the hoofbeats in time with her heart that pushed her into the river. One ankle twisted as her foot slipped between two rocks and she struggled to pull the boot free before abandoning it to the rip tide and trudging to the opposite shore. Shedding it’s twin to ease her escape, Red sprinted into the underbrush once more, her cloak a pennant behind her whipping about viciously in the too still air. She was running out of options, and against her better judgment, Red turned towards her other Home.

In the time since fleeing her childhood home, the townspeople had encased the village in a tall wooden slat wall. The pikes that surrounded the edges were caked in decay and dried blood and she tried not to gag at the sight of a wolf’s head proudly mounted in warning beside the gate. Chest heaving with exertion, she slammed herself against the door pocked with ruddy blood soaked claw marks deep into the wood. It was a stupid place to turn as it was her hunter’s home. It’s why she hoped and prayed they wouldn’t think to look there. ”Please! Please someone, Help!!!” Red cried out, slamming her palms against the slats in abject desperation. When the latch slid open, Red swooned in relief short lived before a crossbow leveled itself through the porthole with stern eyes behind it. No matter what she begged or pleaded or said they refused to open the door to creatures like her. And when she denied their accusation she was answered with a bolt buried deep into the meat of her shoulder just grazing the collarbone for her lies. After all, they knew exactly who bore that cape… The hounds grew near, the horses on their tails and Red took off deeper down the forest path. Lost in the wood from grandmother’s house and liable to meet certain death around any corner. Danger continued to draw ever near; big and bad and still the wolf ran on.

Exhaustion finally ravaged her lungs enough to make her too dizzy to press on. The air was altogether too cold and too fragrant. Night blooming flowers and the carrion of the nearby battlefield had her gagging as she sagged against the remains of an ammunition cart. It was the sounds of their approach that made her desperate enough to abandon her last bit of protection in the hopes of a distraction. Slipping out of her cloak, she lashed it to one of the nearby broken flag standards. Visible from the road as she ducked behind old barrels full of putrid water to shift. Looking up at the blood-soaked moon from the blood-soaked battlefield, Red waited for the shift of flesh to give way to fur.

A shift that never came.

Of course she was too dizzy to run. Of course her stomach pitched and rolled. Of course her vision began to blacken along the edges as she wobbled and fell into the mud. Of course her limbs were leaden for the bullet was not.

The silver burned hot in her shoulder as she hissed and struggled on the ground. Half-crawling towards any kind of cover. She was so close to getting beneath the remains of the burnt officer’s tent. Just a few more feet… Her good right hand struggling to find a purchase on the ground to pull her closer. So close… two feet. A half foot. Fingertips just brushing the canvas.


The blade that bit into her calf was a lightning strike of scorching sterling, her scream a peal of thunder that rattled the winged legion from the trees and echoed across the valley. As the man above her twisted the silver blade in a half-circle, all Red could do was wail. As they bound her wrists in heavy chains that every link pulled her further from her lady luna, all Red could do was weakly lash out. And as they bound her to the makeshift pyre and began to stack the wood at her feet, all Red could do was pray that someone, somewhere would find her before it was too late.


user posted image



.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíokay i think that’s an okay set scene? as promised part one! more posts are coming but archiving took all day so it’s a little later than i wanted to post

scáthánoutfit url

céilíbeing hunted down

ina dhiaidh sinmy hook

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess


--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Captain Hook
 Posted: Jun 8, 2017 | 10:45 am
Quote

Killian Jones
player: Dani
108 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 26



CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WERE ONCE JUST LIKE ANYONE ELSE
THEN YOU GREW AND BECAME LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF
The sailor knew the sea like the back of his hand, or hook, even the uncharted waters had a sense of familiarity to him; as if the currents themselves spoke to the pirate. Land, however, was a different story. He had ridden to Rumpelstiltskin’s castle with a such fervor, driven by desperation with the castle's looming peaks on the horizon. Heading back was a different story. Desperation still clung to his heart, but there were two to be accounted for now. Anger no longer drove him, but the shattering pain of one heart drilled the desperation deeper into the other. This was not something he had to do, it was something he needed to. But despite knowing the general direction in which to head, (the location of the ball) was not as simple to find, nor did he know if Red would still be there if he did find it.

Still, it did not still Hook's stride. What did however, was the thick mist that began to slowly seep in. As much as he pushed his steed, the horse became unsure and wary, slowing his pace when his vision became hindered. Hook let out a grunt of annoyance as the sweet, familiar scent filled his nostrils. It smelled much like his home in Neverland..... A time that felt both decades ago and also as if he had never left.

The thick fog made it nearly impossible to navigate, a problem he was familiar with on the seas as well. He was forced into a slow canter until finally the air around them thinned enough to see the near distance. They had definitely gotten turned around somehow..... there was some sort of.... battlefield? Now he definitely did not know where he was. The Captain was just about to turn around when a flicker of red caught his eye.

At first, he was convinced it was just his imagination, forcing him to see the very thing he wished to find. But after both staring and blinking, the blur of red not only remained in his vision but it took form; a cloak. With a renewed vigor, Hook snapped the reigns of the horse, galloping off towards the cloak. Whatever he had expected to fine, it was not at all the scene that was displayed before him. There was Red; as he had hoped, but she was screaming in torment as these men chained her up, stacking wood at her feet. It did not take a scholar to know what their plans for her were.

Suddenly everyone's attention was on the pirate at the sound of the rapidly approaching hoof beats. Some drew their weapons, others ran for their horses, many of the hounds scattering away from his own beast. Those that attempted to fight were met by his blade; deep, lethal cuts that sliced past their coats as the pirate yielded no mercy. The rest had fled, their hounds hot on their tails. Despite his lack of dexterity on a horse, Hook slid from his mount in a blink, rushing over to the woman tied to the post. Immediately his hand went to her cheek, gently cupping it to force her gaze to meet his, desperately searching for any sign that she was alright. "Red, speak to me, what did they do to you?" He asked in a desperate plea.

She was covered in blood.... so much blood.... Panic rose within him like bile but there was no time for that; Hook quickly moved to her chains, pulling the iron lock away from her hands, in one swift motion he brought his hook down to its weak point, breaking the lock open and allowing the heavy chains to fall. Immediately he was in front of her again, letting her fall into his arms as he supported most of her weight, cradling the brunette as they both sunk to the ground. "Red... hold on.... I'm going to get you help...." How or where, he did not know... There was so much blood.... But she couldn't die. Not now. Not like this.

TAG; Red Riding Hood | WORDS; 681 | NOTES; Hope this is ok?
PM
^
Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Oct 26, 2017 | 3:18 am
Quote

Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
157 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 41



user posted image


Red knew one thing above all others; one certainty that sang through her bones and rattled her damned soul. She was going to die.

There was a strange sort of numb that pulled her down as that inevitable conclusion veered from gruesome possibility to truth. The one companion she would have in the end was the harsh feeling of her pulse in the strangest of places; too strong along the lobes of her ears, too warm along her hollowing eyelids. It pulled at her, called to her. In it’s own way the werewolf danced with Death as sweetly as she had the pirate captain earlier at the ball. The scrape of rough callous woodworking hands were impossible to distinguish from any kind ones in her memory. In fact in this weird half-aware state between the living and the pyre Red Lucas couldn’t really remember anything of the past be it good or bad. All she knew was pain and fire and smoke.

Burning to death was not a quick end. It was not designed to be. And while she was hyperventilating from the chase, the smoke was not thick enough to clog her lungs enough to slip into unconsciousness. No, that mercy would be denied her like so many others. The first sparks to the dry wood stacked at her feet were lightning sharp and thunderous loud. It was her own little storm of mortality, and the hungry flames licked along the corded logs greedily. Immediately the heat caused her feet and ankles to turn towards her namesake. Again she helplessly cried out, and again her pleas were met with the faux piety of her delusional executioners. Their faces were a harlequin chorus of cruelty as the hems of her skirt and petticoat began to catch.

At least she was going to die alone. Red nor Ruby could bear the idea of anyone she loved seeing her brought so low to be killed by these zealous mortals. It was better this way. Maybe the conflagration would be so complete that she would be too far gone to be identified. Let them believe that Ruby had finally run away like all those times she threatened to back in Storybrooke. Let them think she had split like some spoiled child the curse made her out to be. Or at least the spoiled child the curse made them think she was. Let them believe she still wanted to run like her and Billy used to dream about. To find a new world, a new place starting at that bus station that seemed like lifetimes ago. It would spare them pain. Let them think she had given in to the foolish daydreaming of a wild heart that beat beneath her breast. At least as far as they knew.

The blisters at her ankles rose angrily as she swooned from the smoke plume that finally wrapped around her. The men that watched emotionlessly had disappeared and in their place was a streak of pure black on horseback along the strange crimson of the sky from the Blood Moon above. It carved them apart, as one by one her tormentors fell to blade or their own cowardice. Again she swooned, the burning ache of the silver pulling her down with the sweet promise of unconsciousness. She was cold… far too cold considering the flames that wound around her like some living beast. It was a soft touch on her cheek that had her blinking her eyes open weakly and for a moment all she saw was bright sea blue eyes. If her Angel of Death was to claim her, at least he had kind eyes.

Red whimpered, the pain pulling a sound from her almost more beast than woman. It grated on her to be so gravely wounded that she amounted to little more than prey. But what else was she in that moment but a nightmarish twist on everything she wasn’t? As the lock broke, everything holding her up fell away and so too did she crumple. The fall was short-lived, and the voice that echoed dully in her head was familiar and too much to hope for. ”…Killian..?” It had been… too long since she remembered saying that word. Was it truly right after Neverland the captain’s name slipped past her lips? She had tried to purge that word from her mind after everything that happened, and yet.

”You found me?” Her voice was so small, so pathetic in her own ears. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t hoped that he would find her, save her, care for her. Why now? Why was it now as her breath began to rattle in her chest that he looked at her like that? It was almost a cruel joke and the wolf trembled as a wet cough shook her entire frame. A bit of blood stained Ruby’s lips red as a far too cold hand weakly reached up to cradle against his jaw. ”… you found me…” She wasn’t sure who she was talking to anymore, or if her lips were even forming words. But he had found her. He cared. Even as the darkness began to flirt along the edges of her vision with a whisper of peace if she would only just close her eyes. Just for a moment. Reminding her that she didn’t have to fight anymore. She could rest. Just a moment…



user posted image



.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaídani you're always so beyond okay!! and this is belated unforgivably, but I have a bunch of posts to put up from my backlog now that I don’t have mountains of staffly things to do

scáthánoutfit url

céilíbeing hunted down

ina dhiaidh sinmy Captain Hook

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess


--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
Captain Hook
 Posted: Nov 8, 2017 | 9:11 pm
Quote

Killian Jones
player: Dani
108 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 26



CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WERE ONCE JUST LIKE ANYONE ELSE
THEN YOU GREW AND BECAME LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF
Panic swelled within him, strengthening the beat of both hearts in the pirate’s chest. Blue eyes darted with fear at every wound that pulsed blood from her body; overwhelmed and lost as to what to do. She felt so cold in his arms despite the fire growing nearby... Her porcelain skin was paler than usual and those normally bright green eyes seemed to lack focus... Hook bit back the fear of what that all meant, holding on tightly to hope as he had constantly criticized the Storybrooke residents for doing. The sound of his name, his true name, on her lips pulled the corners of his own upwards as he nodded down at her. "Yea luv, it's me," he said, his own voice shaking unexpectedly.

She was fading; that much was apparent. But Hook wouldn't let her go that easily; he would not endure this pain again. "That's right..." he said, half distracted in trying to formulate some sort of plan. "I found you..." Reaching forward, Killian grabbed the edges of her cape, pulling it around her to shield Red from the night's chill. "So you must stay with me, Red. Do you hear me?" Despite the command, his voice was still soft and gentle as Hook attempted to conceal the worry beneath it. He pulled her closer to his chest with the words; as if somehow his arms could shield Red from the pain she was experiencing.

Hook's good hand came to her face, gently stroking Red's soft skin; an almost calming gesture amongst the panic. "Stay with me..." he insisted gently, sparing only a moment to look down at her before lifting his gaze up to his surroundings. There was nothing around them but the desolate ruins of the battlefield, but he still had his horse. "Can you stand?" he asked, bright and worried eyes taking over her body to survey the damage, except most of it was hidden beneath her cloak. If he could just get her upon his steed, Killian could race them off to the nearest village in search of help.

TAG; Red Riding Hood | WORDS; 346 | NOTES; Sorry it's short
PM
^
Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Dec 21, 2017 | 3:06 am
Quote

Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
157 posts

Group Icon


Awards: 41



user posted image


It was strange being so cold covered in burns. The dichotomy of temperature pitched her stomach and confused her mind. There was a string of madness that promised to snare her if she tried to focus on what parts of her were cold and why versus which parts were far too hot and the reason behind it. And as if called to attention while she tried to rationalize her misery, the open wounds and thick drying blood cooling on her skin both began to itch. While they had managed to keep her from suffering too much at the stake, her calves were welted and singed, ankles angry red and blistered were they disappeared into the charred black that made up the ruination that was once her feet. She could heal from this normally, were it not for how much silver had poisoned her. As it was Red’s breathing was wet and rattled as she tried to focus on the watercolor images that swam before her eyes. Shivers trailed over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms as she tried in vain to find a sensation to focus on. Even just barely shaking her head to try and clear it was a mistake and the tiny whimper that caught in the back of her throat once more sounded far too animalistic in her ears.

His voice was her anchor that the sea of pain tried to rip her away from. Killian had her, albeit arguably too late. But to be fair, she supposed, not every story in Henry’s book had a happy ending. Those were reserved for heroes; looking at the pair of them no one would ever use that word to describe a pirate and a murderer. ”…cold…” Red’s voice was small, throat raw from the smoke that seared past it and deep into her lungs. Each word he said was something she desperately tried to grasp onto; but much like what she so recently escaped her conscious latching onto those words slipped through her fingers like smoke. Hearing him echo her brought a soft smile to her lips; the first one she had done in so long but it didn’t seem right. There was something off about that almost smile; it was as if a painter who didn’t truly know his model captured it just off enough to be unsettling. It was there but for a flash and gone again as she nodded in agreement. Her pale hand with it’s bruises and caked blood and soot weakly laid across his arm to grip at the fabric beneath her palm.

Where she had always craned and leaned into his touch before, this time the wolf lay still as her breathing however tenuous continued as evenly as she could manage. Again something was not quite right; in his cabin on The Jolly Roger, in Neverland, hell even her own bedroom back in Storybrooke she had always turned her face towards his palm when he touched her gently. The fact that she didn’t was another sour note in a melancholy symphony. In fact, back in Storybrooke the way she had faced a horrible wound was so different than the now. Back in her room she still tried to lightly banter, insist she was fine, offer up a bright if tight jawed grin. This quiet fading away wasn’t like her. Something that needled along the edges as if pulling the threads from a tapestry to see where it fell apart. Could it all be because of her lack of heart that thundered in his chest? And wouldn’t it be slow and faintly beating if she was dying?

But as if a wave returning to shore to wipe away the footprints along the water’s edge, so too came Red’s breath in a sharp hitch. The wound at her shoulder wept deep scarlet blood from the violent cough and she swooned a little weakly. When he asked her to stand, she tried to find her feet beneath her. And for a moment it looked like she would make it. Newborn fowls were more steady than the Lucas girl, but the first step she took had her crying out and falling against him pathetically. as all of the strength she had managed to dig from her mental reserves fled from her like a whisper. Nigh deadweight she sagged into his arms, the cloak of her childhood mocking namesake nearly black from how much of her blood and ashes clung to it. A soft gasp passed her lips as she coughed once more, turning her head to the side weakly. And when she turned back to look at him this time a bit of blood just barely stained her lips as she struggled to get a deep lungful of air.

Bright eyes sought out his and in this light it was nigh impossible to tell if they were green or blue. Her left hand reached up towards his face in an almost perfect echo of another time, another place, another brunette with those seafoam eyes. ”I love you.” The voice was two fold, one the werewolf’s to be sure but it was buried under another that was discordant and wrong. There was fog rolling in again; thick and merciless at an unnatural speed. Jasmine overpowered the scent of fire and burnt flesh, and the weight of the woman in his arms significantly shifted and then slipped away into the darkness that covered the ground. It was wrong, somehow everything had become to still, too quiet. Not even the sound of her breathing broke the heavy silence of the battlefield. As the shape of the girl on the ground collapsed, all that remained was a common brown blanket normally draped over the haunches of a war horse. The broken twisted landscape that already loomed ominously around him turned impossibly more insidious. His horse had obediently stayed put, but the beast whinnied uncomfortable and skittish. From far away the sound of wicked bell like laughter danced on the wind. That remained echoing as the pirate’s only companion. That and the steady strong second heartbeat safely beneath his ribs that most certainly hadn’t stopped or turned to ash.



user posted image



.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíyou never have to apologize you are always perfect and worth waiting for! if anything i’m sorry this is so short. writing for fake nightmare land red is wicked fun heartbreaking; i can’t wait for him to find the real thing. i am as always at your complete service and i figured now might be an okay place for the illusion to start falling to pieces

scáthánoutfit url

céilíbeing hunted down

ina dhiaidh sinmy Captain Hook

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess


--------------------
user posted image

user posted image
PMEmail
^
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:
Share this topic:
« Next Oldest | Skirmishes | Next Newest »

Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll