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DarkHorse

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DarkHorse last won the day on April 8 2018

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  1. She was grateful he allowed her to walk all on her own, and while he was her tormentor - it was usually followed by some act of kindness. "You really believe yourself don't you? You believe that you truly love him." He was mocking her, getting one last poke in at her. "I do love him. Very, very much. That won't ever change." She said with conviction. She had to bite down on the sarcastic remark that she wanted to fire back at him. No use baiting the Vamp now, not when he let her walk all on her own and she was a gonner anyways. His last comment made her take a deep, deep breath. One that pained her and made her cough a little, she got it under control before it became obvious. She knew that he was right, she knew that Ira did not love her back in the same way she loved him. That still wouldn't change how she felt about him. A small soft smile played on her lips for a moment as she thought about it. She paused before fully entering into the dungeon. "I know he doesn't." She said, "His heart is in Lydon and getting her back to her citizens. That is just how he is. But he has never treated me with anything less than respect, and compassion and kindness." Her hand hovered over the door for just a moment, usually she wasn't going in there to stay. Looking over her shoulder, her silvery eyes regarded him. For once they were calm, centered, not the chaotic tempest they normally were. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, the dust leaving her system completely and her body shutting down from the lack of it. "I'd die for that a thousand times over." She said as she opened the door and it closed behind her with a cold and spine chilling thud. Ira's joking words washed over her in a familiar wave and she was enveloped in his all too familiar embrace. She too closed her eyes, pushing her cheek into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. She would never find more comfort than in this very place - not the dungeon - but his embrace. His smell, the sound of that steady heart beat. They'd clung to each other for long nights, using this very embrace just to keep them going until the next morning. Through Sam's death, through the raids and skirmishes, the end of their country. His question took her out of her reverie, she knew she would have to explain. There was just so much, so much to explain..... A sigh escaped her lips, she'd finally be able to unburden herself of it all. She didn't let go of him as she began to talk, in fact, she held him all the closer. "There is a lot you don't know Ira." She said, "I suppose now's the best time to tell you, I've only been acquiring tragedy since we parted." She laughed a little at this and her teeth chattered a bit from the withdrawals. "After I smuggled you and Aiden out of the country, I went into hiding. I was a collared slave of the general your brother killed after all." She smirked to herself, "Regardless, I found out I was pregnant with our daughter. Had her, gave her up. She's somewhere with my half brother, hopefully doing better than being a whore. I got caught after that, taken in by the bastards for their "research programs" - you know the ones that General talked about? Well, got committed to one of those. They forced us to be addicted to dust to keep us compliant and docile -" She had to pause, fighting down a wave of nausea at the mere memory, but she forced herself to keep going. "A lot of shit went down there. A lot of shit that fucked me up bad Ira - worse than that fucking war - all the surgeries and lost men - way worse." She shuddered, "I cut myself off from the dust, got myself sober. Arrogant bastards thought we would just dose ourselves because we were so addicted. Fucking Namurians. I got out - you don't need to know how. Set out to find you and realized I wasn't the woman you knew and there was no way I could face you. Anyway, that brings me to here. Started the dust again not too long ago." This was likely the hardest part of her confession, something she'd known for a long, long time. "I'm dying Ira." she finally ground out, "All Genovan Doctors end up with Black Lung at some point from the shit we smoke in that pipe I always had. I'm just luckier than most because - quite ironically - the chemical steroid in Dust prolongs the disease. I came here, agreed to be here, because I could do research on how to cure any disease. ANY disease! But my work ended up in failure after failure - people kept turning into vampires for some stupid reason. So I started using dust again to keep it at bay - or at lease keep out the pain from it. There was a whole thing with a plant too - had to use to keep the memories of you out of my head. They drive me near insane." She stopped talking and merely hung onto him, body shaking violently at this point. The silence stretched forever and she let it, because this was just how they did things. Damn did it feel good to not be holding onto the truth anymore. "Th-there you have it." She said through chattering teeth, "And yet here we are. S-somehow you found me again - you fucking idiot- you weren't born a piece of shit like me - I t-tried to give you all the chances I could to stay out of trouble - Just ddddo me a favor and dd-on't let me die choking on my own vomit from th-these damn withdrawals." 24 hours, she only had to survive 24 hours of detox and she would be free and clear of the dust.
  2. "From the ashes rises new life." She said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. Indeed she could feel the healing, closing her eyes and breathing in the hot ashy air, it was there - but mixed within it was so much sorrow and loss of the land that was. Her eyes opened to regard to bugbears as they foraged, gathered and searched for lost ones. She held her tongue as Illyana spoke to one of them, the tiny - and quite adorable - babe suckling away. She was always swept away by the innocence of babies. They didn't ask for any of this to happen, they didn't complain, they just wanted warmth and love and food. The thought of them being harmed physically pained her, perhaps due to her own severe neglect when she fell ill. It was just this that she was trying to help with, trying to prevent before Oscar had taken her in. Her original intent to help clean some tainted waters, but it seemed her fate would weave her back into her original mission: Heal the land and its peoples. Riha rolled up her sleeves and drew her horse level with Illyana's, pausing to watch the bugbear continue on in her quest to find her father. She drank down a little water before putting it back in the saddle bag and buttoning the top closed on it. "This might take more than one outing." She said at long last, "There's a lot to do here." Indeed there was, just by the looks of the destruction they'd already passed. She was sure there was lots that could be done, lots of help that could be given - if it was accepted by the locals. No stranger to staying in desolate, inhospitable or foreign lands, Riha was perfectly comfortable being stuck out there as long as need be to get done what needed to get done. "My sister would have been able to do wonders out here." She said under her breath, "I'm sure she'd know just which plant grows in this kind of soil."
  3. (Grn told me to drop in, hope you don't mind a third) She'd been waiting for the pesky sun to sink low enough for her to leave her hiding in the safety of the shade. Sure she'd brought a parasol to solve the sun problem, but all it took was an open field and a light breeze and she would be cooked like their meal - which smelled disgusting. She'd gorged herself on a bandit camp she came across along the way so she wouldn't loose control around them. The newly blooded vampire still hadn't figured out how to control that yet, one good bloody nose and it would likely be the end of them all. Tracking Ira and Aiden was easy enough once she figured it out, it took a few tries but she got their scent and combined with a little midnight magic - finding them was all too easy. She begged and begged and begged her Master to let her go, just to say "hi," make sure he'd made it out alright. This was her first trip away from the Chateau with the Master's permission, she knew he let her go because he was hoping she'd kill Ira in a flash of blood lust and solve what he considered her "human problem." Super sensitive ears picked up on their conversation and she laughed to herself, a rather sinister sound, even after it all they were still the same old humans. With them was another, a curious sort that had a different smell than a human, even a different pulse and breathing rhythm. She wondered for a moment if it would taste any good before shaking off the notion rather forcefully. Swaying out of the bushes and being sure to stay in the shadows her feet didn't make a sound as she walked. "Still bitching about the same things I see." Her voice was like silk drifting in the wind. If Ira and Aiden looked closely they would know she wasn't the Quinn they used to know. Perhaps they wouldn't even recognize her as she was. No longer haggard and drug addicted, she didn't look emaciated anymore, she was soft and curvy. The fact exacerbated by the clothing she was wearing, simple black pants and shirt. The slave collar that once adorned her neck for the better part of two decades was gone, in its place some very nasty looking scars. Perhaps the most noticeable about the woman was the alabaster white skin with a blue tinge of the undead to it. And if one were to dare get close enough, or even look closely, they would see her silvery eyes had a blood red ring around the edge of them, pupils such a deep red they were nearly black. A trademark of who turned her. Sauntering the rest of the way out of the shadows she curled a lip and bared a pearly white sharp fang, the smells from the fire were just - overwhelming. Those stunningly terrifying eyes looking around and studying their camp, even the trap they were setting. "Hunting something I see." Her voice was a soft purr, "A bear perhaps?"
  4. Riha mused to herself all the way to her room, she hadn’t seen their arrangement as something that made him happy, but she supposed it was a testament to how well they acted together. She chuckled a bit under her breath - hell the two of them could have been circus performers! If she ever saw him again it was likely she would tease him for it in private. Upon entering her room she paused, awash in the smell that was now all too familiar to her. Oscar and the sage she’d burned to chase off the ghosts that haunted him at night. They drove her nuts with their tortured screaming, so she took it upon herself to banish them from the room - no easy task given their number. Rifling through the different trunks that she knew her things were scattered about in, she found her black soft leather pants, black and white shirt and finally - hidden in a not so clever space - her rapier. Dressing in them again was like putting on her favorite gloves - they fit just right - her rather fluffy lifestyle hadn’t made her too soft. Even more comforting still was the weight of the rapier at her side, its blade angled so it wouldn’t trip her up but she could feel it knock against her thigh when she walked. Walk she did - taking longer than usual strides down the halls, not caring about the servants that paused to watch her go. Such a stark contrast and change from the clothes Oscar insisted she wear, a rousing fight that was to get her into them. The usual “either wear it or I’ll put you in it myself” threat echoing off the walls, she was half tempted to see if the old man would actually make good on his threat once or twice. Finally out into the sunshine, abundant black hair tied back in a braid, she strode over to Illyana, who greeted with increasing warmth. “I’ll just be a moment.” She said, setting down the small bag of extras she always made sure to have on hand. Walking away she entered into the stables and determined to ride the one horse she was never allowed to ride she demanded he be saddled or there would be hell to pay. Seeing she meant business her demands were met quite quickly. The staff likely thinking she’d gone mad or something. In truth it was her wild nature so neatly bottle up and contained by a domineering hand - now that that hand was gone - well she didn’t have to behave for him. She was a grey courser, one she’d been dying to ride since Riha met that spirited pip’s eyes. Having spent most of her life on a horse farm learning to train horses just like this one - she’d really missed being on something that wasn’t any more docile than a fat house cat. Using all the training she had, she expertly led her steed back outside where she knew Illyana was waiting. “Alright my fair traveling friend.” She said stooping to get her bag and hook it on the saddle, “Let’s not burn too much sunlight, the world awaits!”
  5. Illyana's reference to her father caused Riha's face to sober a bit, odd as it sounded, she did miss the old man. What she thought would be relief at his departure turned into a sad emptiness at the loss. Perhaps it was the months of acting, or the simple fact that he didn't beat her and threaten her with violence, endeared him in much the way her father never could have. One could only share a space with a grouchy old bed warmer for so long before becoming attached. While she was very much his prisoner, the game they played, the façade they put up - it was a mutual partnership of sorts. They each gained something out of it, shared a common thread of between them. Riha knew he was a bad man, knew he did bad things - but he hadn't to her, never towards her. So yes - in retrospect she did have some feelings for him - but not in the way they let people believe. Yes - she did miss his ever domineering demands that he insisted were "for her own good." She worried what would become of him and was sad she wouldn't get to thank him for his odd way of taking her under his wing. Her thoughts even drifted so far as to what she might say or do if he ever did get free - probably something decidedly stupid and risky - like try and hide him. Ever puzzled by Illyana's ability to accept her, even going so far as to call her friend - to prattle on about packing and picking horses as if they were going to braid each others hair and tell fairy tales. It brought a smile to her face, one she knew wasn't measured or fake. If Riha was surprised by Illyana grabbing her hands, the hug surprised her further. Her first instinct being to clam up and awkwardly pat the woman's back until she released her. While her smile was warm and bright and her affection genuine - Riha was simply not used to another humans touch, it had been far too long. "You thought very much right." she said breaking free from her grip in as gentile a way as possible, "I very much would enjoy the trip. More so since you asked me to come along." She debated for the briefest moment telling Illyana that before she was brought to their abode, she'd traveled quite extensively. But it died on her tongue, best the façade stay up for a while longer. "I have some things I have to get for traveling from my room - " She said, knowing exactly where Oscar hid her rapier and traveling clothing, "I'll just fetch them and be back in a moment...." She turned to leave and walk out, just as she got to the door she paused and turned around. She didn't know why but she just had to ask - "Why do you want to be friends with your fathers lover?" She blurted it out so bluntly, then tried to correct herself, "I mean, isn't that difficult for you?" Her own father cheated on her mother incessantly, it built a bitter resentment up in her towards him from a young age. She swore she'd never let her husband do that to her - yet here she was "the other woman." How did Illyana do it?
  6. Riha had been pacing in her room biting at a nail for a long while when someone tapped on her door. Oddly enough it was a squire stating that the Lady Illyana requested her and ashes she attend immediately. A little surprised she complied with the request, her usual air of mystery dropped as she walked down the halls. She’d just been pondering what was to become of her and her existence in the household. She wondered exactly what it was the Lady wanted of her- since the incident with the cursed object she’d not seen to much of the woman. Always busy she was, doing something or another - Very much unlike Riha, whose sole purpose was, well a complete lie. Not even needing to knock on the door she was allowed entrance into the lady’s room, so she stepped in warily - expecting anything but what she said. Recovering herself quickly she smiled and nodded her head. ‘You hoped right.” She said entering the room more fully, “I would very much like that.” After being cooped up for so long behind these walls she longed for fresh air. Little did Illyana know that her father found Riha in the midst of a personal mission on her own, that she’d been traveling alone for quite some time before landing here. One thing didn’t make sense in all of this however for her. “May I ask thought -“ a curious look crossing her face, “Why me?”
  7. No turns in this thread, you can post whenever you want
  8. Realizing only too late that her plan was doomed to fail, Quinn nearly kicked herself in anger. Hindsight was always 20/20 and she usually never thought ahead beyond her own rash need for survival. In her attempts to protect Ira, she’d angered the master, and now she was going to suffer for it. The way she saw it, she could either die alone in her room - suffocated on her own vomit from the seizures she knew were coming from the withdrawals. Or she could die with Ira where at least she knew she wouldn’t die in such an undignified way - just a painful one. If the detox didn’t kill her, the damp and illness from the dungeons would aggravate her “black lung” - a condition that she’d kept well hidden and used dust to mask the pain of it. She’d been driving herself to this point in some form or another for a long time, whether it was through the dust, the insane and dangerous experimentation, the complete disregard for her own body - or the pipe smoking that eventually killed all doctors from her country. It was a miracle she’d lasted this long - had she only known she needed to anger a vampire. She just hadn’t pissed the Vamp off enough to kill her right there, would have been much less painful than the detox or black lung disease she knew she had. She laughed at the statement despite her dire circumstances, face to face with an infuriated vampire, his claws digging into their shirt and the combined sharpness of them and her own weight slowly ripping said shirt. The dust had dulled her emotions to such a lull that even the threat of mutilation by Vamp didn’t make her flinch, she’d seen worse. She’d been in worse. If only she and Ira were married! Ira would never do such a thing, he loved her not and she knew it. He loved his country, war and money - but he was kind to her, always kind to her. When her feet finally thumped down to the ground, shirt now ripped from his nails that snagged her, she looked up. “If only marriage is what bound us together.” She said almost sadly, “no - no - he loves war more. Death wont part Ira from me, but me from my torture. That is what I am married to.” Not wanting Cariella to get hurt either, despite the betrayal from her friend, she merely patted Alastair’s arm when he threatened her. A sigh escaping her in a big heave, she was already staring to shake, a quiver to her hands that was unmissable but slight. She let him tuck the shaking arm into his elbow, surprised that he was even being gentile in the first place. She turned and looked back at her Master before being escorted out. Big and beautiful silver eyes studied him for what he was, their clarity dulled by the dust and chronic pain she was in. Their intent not to beg, or generate pity - no in them sat something far more disturbing - relief. She turned her head away and allowed Alastair to escort her to the dungeons where she would use her medical skill to keep Ira alive until the idiot could find a way to smash his way out like he usually did. And if he got himself killed long after the Dungeon took her as she believed her Master’s intent was? Well that was his own damn fault. “Well?” She looked up at Alastair, “lets go then- though I suppose I should leave this here first.” She took a moment to reach and set the little vial of pink dust on a nearby counter, her pipe and pouch of herbs, much preferring to leave them there than let those goons down in the dungeons get their hands on them and cause unintentional havoc.
  9. Khepri lit up at the very mention that Scarlett would help them, she felt something building in her that she’d not felt in a long, long time. Hope. Such a simple thing, hope, but to Khepri it was everything. She’d lost it the day she thought Tobias had died, but there it was again, that ugly emotion she hated so very much. She couldn’t squash it dead this time, it’d taken root and was eroding at the very angry shell she’d built around herself. She knelt down next to Tobias, something she’d never done as she was the High Priestess. “I don’t need anything back - “ She said so softly, “Nothing. I just want to make you better. Make you whole again. Just tell me what I have to do.” Her eyes turned back to Scarlett, the golden orbs so filled with emotions it was nearly overwhelming. A true glimpse into the woman she used to be before she was stolen away, before she lived her life out in exile, loved - lost - and then loved again two fold. ‘Will you really help me?” She asked, humbled by such an offer from the horsewoman of war herself.
  10. Amidst broken glass vials, a tipped over table and a carnivorous plant that was now screeching at the scalpel that barely missed severing its head from its stem caused a gruesome scene to be sure. Likely far more disturbing, the usually so cheerful and intelligent Doctor Nash was a curled up mess, crying and screaming weakly. So little attention did she spend to her surroundings as she was lost in tormented memories. A voice like a lifeline drifted through the haze, familiar but so out of place. "Lady Quin!? …. Quin!!? … Doctor Nash!?!" Martis? What was Martis doing in the lab?! How did he get in there?! She grabbed his shirt desperately and clung to it with white and violently shaking hands, clearly close to an overdose from the tainted poison she put in her body. "Did the mushroom trick you too?!" She asked, eyes wide and terrified, "We have to get out of here!" Looking over his shoulder she checked for her tormenter, not seeing him, one of her hands went to her eye - it was still there! He'd tricked her, taken her eye and replaced it.....or perhaps never taken it at all - just her magic. "He's going to come back!" She sobbed, "He's going to come back! You cant let him touch me! I cant do it again, I cant! He cant make me have his bastards!" if any knew the truth, any one in that god forsaken coven had seen what she'd been through - they would have known she was reliving her last days in the lab. Years of experimentation, forced addiction and torture reduced her to this - something less than human and completely out of control. Deprived of the only person that ever showed her kindness and forced to give up the result of the love that grew in her, she was a broken woman. Those footsteps were coming closer again, this time with more urgency and purpose. Quinn curled up on herself, as small as she could get, muttering under her breath until they passed - it wasn't her this time. But she could hear the screams of experiment number 006 next door - a genetic mutation specimen - or so they said. Staggering to her feet Quin forgot about Martis again for the moment, her feet walking over bits of broken glass and unnamed liquids that had spilled out of them. The result was cuts and glass puncturing the skin that touched them. She peered out the lab window - not seeing the beautiful gardens and Otto's whining and pacing. No she saw the sterile hallway, the flickering lights and the red stain on the wall from 003. Fingers pressed to the glass desperately she turned and slid down the door, looking up once again to see Martis there. Almost as if she'd forgotten she looked incredibly surprised. She made a noise to shush him as if he'd made a loud and unexpected noise before crawling across the floor towards him like she didn't want to get caught. Again, unmindful of the glass and yuck she dragged herself through. "You have to get me out of here!" Big tears rolled from her wide and silver eyes, so full of desperation and unaware she was in a false reality, "Please - don't let them do it again to me - not again....I cant - there was so much blood last time -" Body finally exhausted from the ravages of her drug use binge, brain close to shutting down. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped on the floor, chemicals staining her shirt a strange blue as they seeped in to the fabric.
  11. Quinn nearly died when she watched Ira be escorted away, her insides screaming - no clawing to the surface in a near blind rage and panic. No no no no no no no! Not when he just returned to me, not when he just made it back, when I finally got him here! She had been the experiment not him, not their daughter, not anyone else. She didn’t send him and their daughter away to let him become a lab rat now - especially not by her own hand. She didn’t sacrifice and suffer for it all to end now. She suffered so he could live, their daughter could live - and now the idiot stumbled right back into trouble she couldn’t get him out of. She was next, to be secured in her own rooms where she would not be able to reach him, save him, get to him. If there was a time to act it would be now - before she was locked away in her rooms - fuck - the withdrawals alone would kill her for being cloistered away from her stash for so long. In a failed attempt to cleanse herself of the addiction she rid her room of the dust - now it would be to her detriment. A hasty and ill formed plan blossomed in her mind. If she darted forward the master would catch her, if she thought it through completely Alastair would read her thoughts. So instead she went limp, almost blank, resigned to her fate of being locked away - and as she passed her Master - in a rare move of defiance, she grabbed all three syringes - popped the caps off with her teeth and drove them into her thigh, thumb poised expertly over all of them so that if she was grabbed or anyone lurched at her and tried to take them away, the lethal dose would be immediately injected into her leg. These were the only three left of her current batch, if she died - so would the formula. “Release him and agree you wont use him as a test subject!” She said, voice oddly strong and demanding, a change from her prior demeanor. They’d tapped into a very deep dark pit that she herself didn’t even understand. One that made her go homicidal, suicidal - insane at Ira’s very name. The cracked insanity that caused her to carve out the eye of the researcher that tortured her. The very same eye that now floated in a jar just over her shoulder on a shelf that she could be found arguing with from time to time. She meant every word she said too, eyes deadpan and set on administering the lethal injection into her flesh if her demands weren’t met. Gone was the slightly odd Quinn, replaced with someone completely different. The Quinn that existed before she escaped the experimental facility. “I will pay the damages, he will work for me until its paid off.” She said evenly, “You will take him out of that death pit and you wont touch him. In exchange -“ She took a deep breath, and let it released slowly, “I’ll stay indefinitely. Let you turn me. Whatever you want. You break that deal and the experiments die with me. I guarantee you wont find another Doctor as well versed and fucked up enough to make this shit for you.” And so she played the waiting game, thumb putting a little more pressure on the syringes for each second that ticked by, each minute shift bringing the toxins closer and closer to her own flesh.
  12. Eager to spend the afternoon with him, and most certainly happy to be exploring a whole city that was beyond the confines of her prison, Odelia allowed him to tuck her hand into his arm. The sunshine, the sound of people and the stones beneath their feet held no luster in comparison to his gentle exploration of her fingers. The feeling was hypnotizing, such gentleness - something she hadn't felt since her mother died. Shaking her head out of the dangerous path it was treading she noticed his slightly narrowed eyes as if in thought. His touch suddenly seemed scary, frightening. Was he contemplating how he could break her fingers? Using touch to beguile her then later use it to harm her? Then he spoke, revealing that his thoughts were not on so nearly a frightening path as she thought. He was distracted by pressures from home - something she knew all too well. As he continued to speak, he spun a tale of infighting - his voice holding a desperation behind it, an anger - hurt. The volume rose as his grip on her hand went from gentile to firm, then tight. She tried to listen, she did - but it was hard to hear past the terrified beating of her heart. She didn't dare pull her hand away for fear that he was going to break it in anger if she did. She couldn't look away from his anger, her mind burning its image somewhere deep inside so she could never forget and flee at the first sight of it again in the future. Then just as quickly as his anger built - it vanished in a realization that he was being loud, that he hurt her. The distance between them was welcome as she gulped down the cool air in an attempt to calm her heart - which was determined to break through her chest in an attempt to flee. "I'm sorry, imp. I didn't mean to get so loud," His voice washed over her. With a much gentler tug he pulled her closer and put his forehead to hers. Her poor and confused heart beating to a different rhythm from the closeness and his use of his pet name for her. He wanted her to distract him, take his thoughts away from his source of anger - but he wasn't going to do it through drinking or yelling. No - he'd just shown her a man could get angry and he could get loud, but that wouldn't always be followed by aggression. Taking in a deep breath, senses flooded with the smell of him from his closeness, she nodded her head. "I - I think I can do that." She said shakily, trying to hold back confused tears. Taking another deep breath she bravely took his hand in hers. It still pained her and it shook quite violently as she gave it a gentile tug in the direction of a shop that caught her eye. Entering in the familiar smell of dirt and earth greeted her, calming her senses even more than they already were. Riha greeted the keeper and let out a small gasp as she caught sight of what most would see as an insignificant little thing. "Do you see this?" She asked Austere excitedly, "This is a rare bog flower." The small plant was tiny in comparison to all the larger, more brightly colored buds. Its leaves were greasy looking and atop a very thin stem sat a purple flower. "These are an aggressively spreading flower." She said in a hush, "Well known to restore the acidity of the soil, cleanse the water and help all sorts of creatures grow. Just a handful of these can be used to restore acres upon acres of wetlands....." Careful not to touch its leaves she quickly asked after the plant and its like. Satisfied with the answers she got, she quickly purchased it before moving on to several other plants - even going so far as to harvest seeds from them rather than take the plant itself. It was clear she was in her element, fear slipped away, timid nature gone, she was simply being - herself. Finally, her eyes lit on a pink bloom that was creeping its way up a trellis on a vine. "That's a creeping widow." She said, "Oil from that plant can kill a man with a drop. Pretty, but deadly. If you see that growing in a mans garden - I don't recommend accepting his dinner invitation." She paused, looking up at Austere in a rare moment of genuine joy, "I haven't bored you have I?"
  13. Hey all! I’m back  and will be slowly posting and answering all the threads I was in! Be patient, may take me a hot minute to get to all of them. 

  14. hey those that are still here. I’ll be posting soon! Back online for a while!
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